Wild Like the Wind (Chaos #5)(44)

Dutch was the oldest and except for his brush with fuckery when he was fourteen, from the minute he could, he’d stepped up for his mom and his brother.

Jagger, the baby, wasn’t exactly spoiled but he also hadn’t quite cottoned on to the fact his mother didn’t exist to make his life golden.

Case in point, the last time Jag figured out his momma was getting laid and not liking it.

Another case in point, showing at her place for her to make him breakfast before school every morning when he was nineteen and essentially living somewhere else.

“We need to be more careful, Keekee,” he said, reaching for his tee and straightening to tug it on.

“You need to be less awesome with your dick, Shep,” she shot back.

He pulled his shirt down his stomach and grinned at her.

She cut a fake pissed-off look at him and clasped her bra at her front before she twisted it around the back.

She put the rest of her clothes on.

He put his socks and boots on.

She grabbed her jacket and purse from the living room and he walked her down to her car.

They didn’t have time to make out so he gave her a quick kiss, closed the door after she folded in and then went to the sidewalk.

But he was late for Jean and Jean would worry, so instead of watching her drive away like he always did, he started right up the walk to the building, and through that, he played that cool.

However, when he was about to hit the building he started jogging.

Inside the building, he took the steps three at a time.

He let himself in Jean’s apartment, and right when he was about to make it to her bedroom door, she called, “Everything okay, Shepherd?”

He pushed in. “Everything’s cool.”

They did their thing. She’d had a shower the day before and she didn’t like to make him do it every day so it was about toilet, teeth brushing, making her bed and getting her dressed before breakfast.

They were finishing that when there came a pounding at the door.

Not a knock.

Pounding.

He twisted his neck and narrowed his eyes that way, feeling his mouth turn down as Jean murmured, “What on earth?”

“Stay here. I’ll find out,” he growled.

He left her leaning on her walker by her bed and stalked into the other room.

The entire time he did that, the pounding didn’t stop.

When he looked through the peephole and saw what he saw, his vision exploded in sparks of fury.

He unlocked the door, yanked it open and moved immediately to press back a visibly enraged Keely.

But hearing the locks go, she was ready for him, hands at his chest shoving hard.

She pushed in, pushing him in with her, shouting, “Who you got in here, Hound? Who’s your side piece means I come to you after you do her and you get me gone so you can go back? Who, Hound? Who is this bitch?”

“That would be me.”

Hound was pulling in oxygen so he didn’t black out with rage, and this effort was not helped when both he and Keely turned to see Jean in her slippers and housecoat shuffling with her walker down the hall from her bedroom.

“Holy shit,” Keely whispered.

“As Shepherd knows, I don’t allow foul language in my home so if you’d refrain, I’d appreciate it,” Jean declared.

Keely said nothing.

Hound continued to expend effort so he wouldn’t do or say anything he’d regret, and this took so much, he couldn’t take any to speak.

Jean stopped at the mouth of the hall. “You’re Keely, I presume?”

“Yeah,” Keely answered.

“I’m Jean Gruenberg. As you can see, I’m Shepherd’s neighbor. We’re friends. Close friends.”

“Uh, Shep and I are, um … close friends too,” Keely shared.

“I know.”

“He didn’t tell me about you,” Keely told Jean.

“I’m realizing that.”

It was then Keely looked at Hound, and he might still be pissed as fuck at her but the look on her face said she was no longer that with him.

The look on her face was something else entirely.

And that look sliced clean through his gut.

“You didn’t tell me about Jean,” she whispered.

Shit.

“Keel—”

He said no more as her head jerked Jean’s way and she stammered, “I’m s-sorry. So so so so sorry. That was rude. Incredibly rude. I’m so very sorry.”

“Your apology is accepted, dear,” Jean said carefully, watching Keely closely.

Hound put his hand on her arm but she pulled that arm away, slouching to the side and looking up at him. “I, well, obviously, I should go. I’m sorry.”

“Babe—” he tried again.

“I have to get to work and you have to—”

He moved toward her but she backed quickly to the door, still talking.

“I have to get to work,” she repeated. Hand on the handle, she looked again to Jean. “Terrible way to do it but it’s, well … nice to meet you. Have a lovely day.”

With that, she opened the door and flew out.

Hound was pissed again.

Because he was stuck, half his head with one woman, half his head wanting to run after another.

“Motek,” Jean called and his gaze swung to her. “If you don’t chase after her, I fear that would be a very bad mistake.”