Wild Like the Wind (Chaos #5)(8)

“Stop fuckin’ up and drivin’ your mother insane,” Hound ordered. “She needs you. You’re all she’s got.”

Dutch had something to say to that.

“I know and that’s too fuckin’ much. I’m fourteen, man, and Jag’s only twelve. We can’t be everything to her.”

“Your dad would not fall down on that job and he was all she needed. Sayin’ that, he would love every goddamn minute of it and woulda killed to have more.”

Dutch looked away, a muscle ticking in a cheek that didn’t even have fuzz on it yet.

“You got him in you,” Hound said quietly. “Be the man he didn’t get the chance to fully be.”

“How do I do that when he’s not here to teach me?” Dutch asked the space at their sides.

“You need a lesson, you find me.”

Dutch looked back to him, misery and hope both fighting in his dark eyes.

“If I haven’t proved it already, it’s you that’s not payin’ attention. I’m there for you, kid, any way you need me.”

“Jag too?” he asked.

“Absolutely,” Hound answered.

“Chaos is—”

“Yours,” Hound finished for him. “And it’s you. You grow up, wanna make that official, every man will welcome you. You just want us at your back, you’ll have that until the day each and every one of us stop breathing.”

Something washed through his face before his lips quirked. “She was wet and hot down there, man.”

Hound let him go but again didn’t get out of his space. “You’re growin’ up too fast. Your looks, you’ll get your share of hot, wet pussy. Before he tagged your mother, your old man made an art of gettin’ his share. When it comes your time, and by that I mean you hold your shit for another coupla years, first, you see to them. They won’t be pantin’ for it if you don’t give it good. You need pointers on that, talk to me, Hop, Dog, Tack. And second, condoms. No excuses, no exceptions. You can’t get your hands on ’em, you call me. I’ll make sure you’re supplied.”

Something else came into Dutch’s face.

“People think things about bikers, Hound. I don’t even have a learner’s permit, no way a bike, and still, my dad, Chaos, kids know things and they say shit. Am I supposed to just take that crap?”

“Fuck no,” Hound replied. “But Jesus, son, you don’t blow your top on school grounds. Assholes need a lesson, you always do it smart and in a way your momma doesn’t feel the pain after you bring it.”

Dutch stared at him a beat before he smiled.

“Workout room on Chaos, your ass is there,” Hound told him. “I go to a gym, I’ll pick you up, take you there too. We’ll spar. Make sure you know what you’re doin’, don’t get surprised and can make your point and know when to stop. We got a deal?”

Dutch nodded. He tried not to do it enthusiastically, but he failed.

“I gotta make another visit to you like this one, it won’t make me happy,” Hound warned.

“But you won’t give up on me,” Dutch stated.

Hound stared at him.

Dutch’s chin moved in a funny way before he made his face hard and he went on, “You won’t give up on me. You won’t disappear on me. Yeah?”

“You got me, kid,” Hound whispered. “Always.”

“You won’t disappear on me.”

“I won’t disappear, Dutch.”

“Never. You won’t go.”

Christ.

He’d pull that blade across that motherfucker’s throat again right then, no question about it.

“Never, son,” he promised.

That thing happened to his chin again before Dutch looked away and drew in a sharp breath through his nose.

“Tomorrow, pick you up at your house, take you to Chaos,” Hound said. “Show you around the weights. After school. Wear shorts, tennis shoes, a loose tank. With me?”

Dutch looked back at him and nodded.

Finally, Hound stepped back.

“Need a ride home?” he asked.

Dutch shook his head. “Gotta go get Jag. He gets outta school after me. I walk him home.”

Hound nodded.

“Then git, kid. Jag wants to come with you tomorrow, call me and let me know. I’ll pick you up in my truck.”

Dutch nodded.

Hound moved toward his bike.

“Hound?” Dutch called.

He stopped and turned back.

“I was five,” Dutch said.

Hound locked his body.

“But I still miss him,” he finished.

“So do I, Dutch,” Hound made himself reply.

Dutch took him in.

Then he turned and ran the other way.



Five years later …

She opened the door, and like usual, since he was always the one to do it unless he was on assignment, Hound stuck out his hand toward Keely, that hand holding the envelope containing the check Cherry had cut for her.

“Your take this month,” he told her.

She took it, her eyes on him. “Thanks, Hound.”

He jerked up his chin, and like always said no more and started to move to turn away.