Wild Like the Wind (Chaos #5)(127)

High sat back in his chair, unperturbed, muttering, “And there’s that.”

Big Petey swallowed a chuckle. Hop hid his smile by swiping his thumb and forefinger across his mustache.

But High wasn’t done.

“It was me who saw them together and yeah, I was pissed. But what Hound just said, Keely also told me. She loves him. He makes her happy. This won’t make her happy in a way any man hurts her man, she won’t ever forget it and she said that to me straight.” High looked to Hound. “Can’t say I still don’t wish that, when you found it, it wasn’t her. Can say, you found what you need in each other, you’re my brother and she’s one of the best women I’ve ever met, so I guess I found my way to wanting it for the both of you. But there’s something else she said that’s straight-up true. We owe you both this. You already earned it, not up to me to make you put more work into having it.”

Hound did another chin dip to High.

High jerked up his chin in return.

Arlo opened his mouth but Tack was done.

“Each man has said their piece. We’re doin’ this so it can get done,” Tack declared. “Shy, go tell Chill to push the furniture back in the common room.”

“You didn’t say if you’re in or out, Tack,” Shy noted.

Tack again looked at Hound.

Tack then waited one beat that led into five.

Finally, he said, “He was the best of us.”

Hound felt the sudden need to swallow but fought it back.

“And you did the worst … for him and for us,” Tack continued.

Hound stood against the wall and held his brother’s stare.

“I’m torn, brother,” Tack said quietly.

“Struggled with this for years because of Black. Struggling with it now, I’m makin’ you feel just that,” Hound replied.

Tack nodded his head.

“He’d want her happy,” Tack whispered.

“That wasn’t what got me there,” Hound told him. “Makin’ her happy did that.”

“Out,” Tack said abruptly.

Dog blew out a breath.

Arlo made a noise in his throat.

Shy got up from his chair, his mouth twitching. He clapped a hand on Tack’s shoulder and strolled from the room.

“You can change your mind, Dog,” Pete noted.

“Arlo stands for the brothers,” Dog stated immediately and turned his gaze to Hound. “I’ll stand for Black.”

Hound yet again dipped his chin, this time to Dog.

Chairs were pushed back.

Boz approached at his side.

Hound looked to him.

“It won’t happen, but they get a few good ones in, rattle me, I take a knee, you keep Brick and Rush back,” Hound ordered.

Boz nodded.

Hound started to move but stopped when Boz called his name.

He returned his gaze to his brother.

“Tack was wrong,” Boz said.

“About what?” Hound asked.

“Black wasn’t the best of us.”

Hound stood silent, now feeling his throat itch.

“You are,” Boz finished.

His brother gave him that.

And then he left the room.



Arlo, raring to go, was the first one up.

Hound had rough rope tied around his waist and also wound around his wrist, securing it to the small of his back.

Even so, for that shit Arlo spewed about Hound taking out Black’s killer to earn himself Keely’s pussy, Hound ducked the first punch then put all his power in his left fist and dealt Arlo a crushing blow to the cheekbone, quickly spun and caught him with the toe of his boot in Arlo’s kidneys.

Arlo spluttered, coughed, staggered to the side, but unfortunately this just served to piss him off even more, so he came back at Hound with everything he had.

Hound knew how to box, trained in a boxing gym, but he wasn’t a boxer. He wasn’t even a fighter.

He was a brawler and his hand tied behind his back fucked with his momentum and coordination. It wasn’t about him not being able to use that fist to throw a punch. It was that he couldn’t use it to grab hold, shove, toss, wrestle or use that entire side to stay balanced.

Arlo had opened up his left eyebrow and the right side of his bottom lip before some commotion happened among the men that circled them, catching Hound’s attention, but not Arlo’s, and when Hound heard Dutch shout, “Take your hands off me, man!” he made the mistake of looking toward his boy’s voice.

Arlo clocked him, sending him lurching, white invading his vision from the blow mingling with the red that was blood seeping into his eye, and to focus on regaining concentration, he automatically took a knee.

“Piss off, man! Stand back!” Hound heard Dutch yelling. “Fuckin’ stand back!”

“You are not in this, son,” Tack said low as Hound felt a hand land on his shoulder.

He looked up, blinked against the white that was retreating, and the blood that was not, and saw Jag there staring down at him, the muscle running up his cheek flexing.

“I’m not in this? I’m not fuckin’ in this?” Dutch asked, sounding enraged.

“This is between the brothers and you are not yet a brother,” Arlo stated.

“This is about my father and my mother and my dad. And I am my father and my mother but most of all, I’m my dad.”