Wild Like the Wind (Chaos #5)(128)

Christ, that felt better than what Boz had said earlier.

By a lot.

“So I’m as Chaos as you can get, Arlo,” Dutch finished.

“Take your brother and go,” Hound whispered to Jag.

Jag leaned deep and put his face in Hound’s.

“No,” he replied.

Then he crouched and Hound felt him at the rope at the side of his waist. He knew Jag had slid in a blade and cut through because it immediately came loose, and Jag stood.

“We got problems with you bein’ a prospect, you don’t get your ass out and now,” Arlo declared.

Jagger pulled Hound to his feet and the rope fell to the floor.

When Jag got him there, he immediately moved to stand beside his brother, blocking Arlo from Hound.

“This was decided by the brothers,” Tack explained. “This is how it’s done. You need to learn this. It’s important. And you don’t interfere with it, as a recruit, or as a brother.”

“We speak for our father,” Jagger stated.

“That’s not the way it goes, son,” Tack said quietly.

“We speak for our mother,” Jagger went on.

“That’s definitely not the way it fuckin’ goes,” Arlo bit off.

“Hound understands this and he wants it,” Tack said. “He even needs it, men. So you need to stand down and let him have it.”

The boys did not stand down.

“Fair fight,” Dutch ground out.

“Dutch—” Hop entered the conversation but he didn’t get far.

“Fair fight. He’s fightin’ for our mother. He’s fighting for his place in our family. He’s fightin’ to stay solid with his brothers. If he’s fighting for shit that means that much, shit that means everything, it should be fair fight,” Dutch clipped. “You gotta make him raise fists, he feels he needs to take his beating, let him stand free and fight fair.”

“I don’t give a shit how he fights,” Arlo snapped. “What I give a shit about right now is two recruits gettin’ up in my face, in brother business, when they’re not welcome. You do as you’re told, assholes, or I’ll see to it you don’t earn your goddamned patch.”

At that, Hound pushed through Dutch and Jag, taking Arlo by surprise, so he was able to get his fingers wrapped around Arlo’s throat.

Arlo pushed back, tried to pull from Hound’s grip, but Hound just yanked him so they were nose to nose and he growled, “You’re witnessing loyalty, motherfucker, something I’m thinkin’ is foreign to you. We’ll talk about that later. Now …” he shoved him off and lifted his fists, “fight.”

“Back up,” Hound heard Tack order Dutch and Jag.

He felt them all retreat to the circle.

On a roar, Arlo came at him.

And with a roar, Hound met him.

It was brutal and there was a lot behind it on both sides, and none of it had to do with Black.

But all of it had to do with what Hound feared burned deep in Arlo.

Guilt.

And shame.

So when Shy called out, “Time!” they didn’t stop.

It took Dutch, Jag, Joke and Hop pulling Hound back, and High, Tack and Boz pulling Arlo back.

“We’re not done,” Arlo hissed, his focus still locked on Hound, even if now he also had blood in his eyes, covering his teeth and running down his chin.

“No we are not,” Hound agreed, spit blood from his own mouth at the floor at Arlo’s feet and turned his attention to Dog, shrugging off the men who held him. “You’re up, brother.”

“Shit,” Dutch bit off.

“Just Dog, that’s it, then it’s done,” Boz said under his breath to his boys.

Dog came at him but the fury was not there.

Hound still let Dog have him.

Because Dog was fighting for Black.

Reflex and knowing Dutch and Jag were watching made him duck, lift his arms to protect his face, twist to glance off blows to the body, but he took from Dog what Dog was willing to give, for Black, each fist that landed leading Hound to clean and clear.

And Keely.

“Goddamn it, Hound! Fight!” Jagger thundered.

Right after that came, it was Dog that had his attention turned when another commotion started outside the circle, and Hound heard Speck mutter, “Jesus, shit, you gotta be kidding me. This keeps up, for a ten-minute fight, we’ll be here all night.”

“You do not get in this,” Tack growled.

“Fuck me,” Hop muttered irately.

Shy chuckled.

Dog turned. Hound turned.

Then both shifted back when suddenly a line of women stood between them.

Tyra, Tabby, Lanie, Carissa, Millie, Rosalie and Bev.

Hound looked toward the doors, but all he saw was Elvira scooting her round ass onto a barstool.

Thank fuck, no Keely.

“Reckon tomorrow we should just all come in and paint the Compound pink then go have our balls whacked off,” Arlo groused.

Tack came to stand by Dog, his eyes locked on his woman.

“This, especially this, Red, you do not get to be in this,” he declared, looking so seriously fucking pissed, Hound moved closer to Tyra’s back.

Dog moved that way too, at her front.

“We’re here for Keely,” Tyra returned.