Wild Like the Wind (Chaos #5)(74)

“Yeah, Ma,” Dutch answered quickly.

“But—” Jag started.

Dutch kicked the side of Jag’s boot with the side of his.

Jag shut up.

“Ziplocs. Take as many cookies as you want,” I told them. “And lock up when you leave.”

“Right, Ma,” Dutch said.

“Right,” Jag muttered.

I looked over my two handsome sons.

“Love you boys,” I said, and that came out gentle.

“Love you too,” Dutch said.

“Yeah, Ma, love you too,” Jag muttered.

I let my gaze rest on them for another second.

Then I dashed up the steps to run my bubble bath.

It wasn’t until I was in it that it hit me that Jagger was getting Black’s bike, Dutch getting his father’s cut.

Just like Graham would want.

Hound had wrangled that.

On that thought, the first tear fell.

Damn it.

So after that thought, I slapped my face in the water in front of me and kept it there until I had to pull it out to breathe.





I Lost Count

Keely

That night, I stared at the dark outside the window in my kitchen, eating a cookie, my phone to my ear.

The boys had left me six cookies.

I should probably have been grateful they’d left me that.

It was coming on to late. I’d had my bath and gone gung ho. I gave my legs a clean, close shave since I hadn’t shaved once since the day of Jean’s funeral seeing as I was no longer fucking Hound, so I felt I didn’t need to see to that little chore.

I also gave myself a facial because I would never, ever attempt to catch another man’s attention, but that didn’t mean I wasn’t going to have the best skin I could until the day I died.

And I’d done the hot oil pack on my hair that made it gleam even more than it naturally gleamed (God loved me and I knew this because he gave me Black for the time I had him, he gave me my beautiful boys, and he gave me long legs, a great ass, a metabolism most women would kill for and fabulously shining hair).

I was now in undies and my red robe that hit me several inches above my knees, had three-quarter sleeves that were wide and feminine, almost bell but not quite, and was made of this soft cotton-knit material that was supposed to keep you warm or cool, whatever way you needed it.

And it did.

I was also on the phone with Bev.

“So it’s probably official,” I told her through my cookie munching. “I expect a phone call any minute telling me Jagger is a Chaos recruit. Or one from Dutch since the boys will get Jag smashed out of his brain to the point he’ll puke his guts out for the next week.”

“Happy for you, Keely,” Beverly replied softly.

Her tone brought me up straight.

She and Boz never had kids.

This was because Boz had repeatedly cheated on her while they were dating. Though, as far as I knew, he never did that shit while they were married.

Except once.

The reason she left him.

And after she did and tried to reconcile, he never took her back.

I did know Boz was one of those bikers who was of the mind that priorities in life came in a certain order: Club, brotherhood, freedom, bike, country, and if he wasn’t an atheist, God. If he had enough of him left over on a certain day to give a shit, last came his woman.

In other words, he thought he could do exactly what he wanted and anyone in his life had to put up with that.

Bev had been all in for that, mostly. She loved him. She was not a nag. She got the life. In fact, she loved the life. She loved the Club. She was about freedom, country, God, having a good time, being among people where she could be herself, and she dug Boz on his bike.

What she wasn’t a big fan of was Boz sleeping with women who were not her.

She put up with it before she had his ring (this might have started her problem, though I wondered if he’d have ended things with her if she’d tried to put a stop to it before she’d accepted his ring).

She put her foot down when she got it.

This caused their first marital fight. One of many. That seemingly (to a woman) natural but important request when she gave him the freedom to be everything else he needed, she didn’t get why he couldn’t give her. But he railed against it, mostly with fighting with her, sometimes with getting caught necking or groping women, not her.

Though, until the end, as far as I knew, he’d never taken it all the way, that made no never mind to me. I was not of that mentality. Necking was a form of cheating, groping, definitely.

Fortunately, Black had agreed with me.

It was me for him and him for me, totally.

That didn’t help, Bev having to watch Black and me (while Black was alive). And how totally devoted High was to Millie. And the fact that it seemed Tack could barely stand the sight of his first wife, Naomi, but he’d never strayed.

The other brothers, back then, felt the same way Boz did, which solidified Boz’s position (to Boz).

Through Bev, I’d heard that had turned somewhat around with everything Tack had turned around in the Club.

Now Tack, Hop, Dog, and the new brothers, Joker and Shy, not to mention now Millie was back, so High as well, were all devoted to their old ladies like High had been with Millie way back in the day.

Like Black was with me.