Wild Like the Wind (Chaos #5)(26)

Him and Keely had been at each other now for a week. She had more than a rare occasion to walk on his carpet in her bare feet, especially now that his test came back clean so he went at her ungloved, she liked to clean up in between and he didn’t eat his own cum.

She hadn’t said dick.

He didn’t think about it.

Until then.

Hound walked out of the apartment, out to his truck, swung in and went to Target.

He nabbed a vacuum cleaner, and while he was there, grabbed some Windex, cleaning cloths, paper towels, a mop and some stuff to clean bathrooms.

On his way back to his apartment he called Chill, the recruit they’d taken on with Dutch. A good kid, couple of years older than Dutch. Not tall. Lean and wiry, smart and seemingly dedicated (so far). He didn’t know dick about cars and bikes except he liked them, and rode the last, so he didn’t work in the garage. Like all recruits, he worked in the auto supply store that was also a part of Ride, but unlike all recruits, he’d stay there after he was patched in.

And Chill was always moving. If he was sitting, his leg was bobbing. If he was talking, his hands talked with him. If he was hanging, his eyes were always darting around the room.

Being totally fucking hyper, of course, they called him Chill.

“Yo, Hound,” Chill answered.

“Just downed a junkie at my apartment building because I wasn’t a big fan of the element he was attracting to my space.”

“Righteous,” Chill replied.

Another requirement to be a recruit for Chaos, that being not down with that kind of shit at the same time willing to do something about it.

Chill’s mom was a recovering junkie, his dad, out of the picture for years, a non-recovered one.

So Chill was down with that.

“You probably won’t think that when I tell you I realized in not cleaning my crib for nine years, it’s not a man cave, it’s a dump like where a junkie would hang, so you’re comin’ over and givin’ it a scrub down.”

“Fuck,” Chill muttered.

It wasn’t easy being a Chaos recruit, and it wasn’t just because you got the shit jobs like stocking shelves, keeping track of inventory and waiting on pain-in-the-ass customers at the store.

It was because you were a grunt, you did what any brother told you to do, you went where they told you they wanted you to be, you didn’t question it, you didn’t bitch about it and you were on call 24/7 for all that shit.

“Find Dutch, bring his ass with you,” Hound ordered.

“Like … now?” Chill asked.

“You doin’ something for another brother?” Hound asked back.

“No, just workin’ the store.”

“Someone there that’s not Dutch to cover that?”

“Yes.”

“Then yes, like now.”

“Right, be there in thirty.”

“Good,” Hound grunted, hung up, drove back to his pad and hauled the shit up to his apartment.

Then he went next door to hang with Jean awhile before he made her lunch.



“So, tell me how flattered I should be that you walked me in tonight and the place is spic and span,” Keely ordered.

She was naked, astride Hound’s lap. He was naked too with his back up against his headboard.

She wasn’t holding distant. Her chest was to his, resting on it, but she had her head back so she could look at him.

From their second time until then, Hound got the message loud and clear that they might be fuck buddies, but Keely was not going to let that stop her from being lovey and affectionate.

This meant any time they weren’t fucking, she stayed close and touched.

Hound wanted to find some way to warn her off that shit, set that boundary, keep them focused.

But it wasn’t just that he wanted it, and where it came to Keely he was weak.

It was that he knew she’d been starved of shit like that for years, and where it came to Keely he wanted her to have everything she needed.

It was the night after Dutch and Chill spent three hours scrubbing down his pad, and not just because she was a woman, but because she had eyes and a nose, she didn’t miss it.

“Had to deliver a message to a junkie downstairs this morning, babe,” he told her. “Saw his carpet was half a level up from the foul of mine. Men don’t mind livin’ in a sty, but when it comes clear that junkies don’t mind that shit either, he calls the recruits, arms them with Windex and scrubbing bubbles and then goes to have some lunch.”

She laughed and it was soft, the sound and the movement of her body against his.

She slid a hand up his chest to his neck, her thumb rubbing down his throat to come rest in the dent in his collarbone.

“What was the message you delivered?” she asked.

“He doesn’t do dope in a place where I share a roof with him and he doesn’t invite dealers to that place either.”

Her head tipped to the side. “He hear your message?”

“He gave indication that he did.”

“I bet he did,” she murmured, then, louder, “Why do you live here, baby? This place sucks. And you get the same Chaos cut I do so I know you can afford way better.”

“Not here enough to bother with movin’, Keely,” he lied.

“A man like you shouldn’t live in a place like this,” she returned.