Wild Like the Wind (Chaos #5)(95)

I stared at him.

He kept eating.

“You, well … you said her, the boys, you and me only and now we’re bringing in Tad,” I mentioned quietly.

He grinned at his plate, shaking his head, muttering, “Tad.”

“It’s the man’s name, Shep,” I told him.

He sat back in his chair, nabbing his coffee mug, aimed his grin at me and stated, “An insurance guy named Tad.”

I felt my eyes narrow. “You’ll be nice to him.”

“Sure,” he agreed, taking a sip of coffee.

“And you won’t talk about insurance people fucking folks up the ass,” I demanded.

“I’ll do my best not to work that into conversation,” he joked.

“Seriously, Hound,” I snapped.

“Chill, Keekee. It’ll be cool,” he returned.

That was what I didn’t understand. That he was “cool” with this when he’d been so adamant it was only the boys, Bev, him and me.

Therefore I got into that. “So now explain why you’re all good with Tad showing, because that kinda freaks me.”

“Babe, he’s an insurance agent,” he said in explanation, which was not a full explanation.

“Yes,” I said back and did it slowly.

“First of all, he doesn’t know any of the guys. Second, he’s probably never gonna know any of the guys, except me but only ’cause a’ you. So like you said, he’s never gonna run into Chaos and if he does, I’ll tell him to keep his mouth shut and that’ll probably not only make Tad’s mouth stay shut, it’ll probably tighten his sphincter so he might not be able to take a shit for a week.”

“Don’t threaten him either, Hound,” I warned irately.

He gave me a big smile. “Jesus, Keekee, you think I’m gonna back this guy into the wall of your foyer with a hand at his throat the minute he strolls in and tell him I’ll serve him his balls for dinner if by some extreme off-chance he runs into any biker in the Denver Metro area and says, ‘Hey, by the way, did you know that Hound guy is bangin’ that biker babe named Keely?’ Christ. Give me some credit, woman.”

As this was something he wouldn’t do, nor would Tad (I hoped), I nodded.

“Just … try not to be too naturally badass,” I said. “And warn the boys not to be too badass either. I think Beverly likes his sphincter working properly.”

Hound’s brows went up. “She give it to him up the ass?”

“No!” I snapped. “Well, I don’t know. She shares, but she hasn’t shared that.”

“Maybe you should get her a strap-on for her bachelorette party. One a’ them’s gotta have a dick, and when it’s his turn to give it he might find it handy.”

I reached out and punched his arm.

He started chuckling.

Since he was in a good mood, right or wrong, I didn’t know him well enough as we were now—Hound, my old man, Keely, his old lady—but I decided to go for it.

“You don’t have to make me breakfast,” I announced.

I found out it was wrong.

His humor vanished, he set his coffee down and he bent back over his plate.

“Shep,” I whispered.

He stayed bent over his plate and turned just his eyes to me.

“I need to make you breakfast,” he stated low.

Okay, that was where he was at and right now, that was where I had to leave it.

I nodded.

“Okay, baby,” I said gently. When he looked back to his food, I finished, “Love you.”

He grunted at his food.

I took that as “love you back.”

Taking us out of those dark waters, I declared, “You don’t have to share what the Club’s into, but, you know, now that you’re rubbing up against Chew again, next time you see him, tell him I told him to go fuck himself.”

I went immediately still because Hound went so still, the air not only in the kitchen but also I figured in the entire house (and maybe down the block) went still.

I watched as, slowly, he turned his eyes to me.

“Chew?” he growled.

“I … uh …” I started then stopped.

It was not done to renounce the Club. If you became a member of a motorcycle club like Chaos, it was a lifetime commitment.

Chew had renounced the Club.

This was not a popular decision, generally.

In the end, however, I sensed the men were happy he made that choice.

This was because the man Chew proved himself to be when he didn’t vote for Crank’s execution, thus solidifying Tack’s takeover, and renouncing the Club rather than being in it when Tack was leading them to clean was even less popular. The reason Crank’s reign was finally brought to an end was all the reason every brother felt Chew should get his shit in line.

It wasn’t that every man lost respect for him, how deep he fell into the shit Crank stirred up, how dirty he got and how much he enjoyed it.

It was that they all hated his guts and were happy to see the back of him, would have burned the Chaos emblem off his back if he’d done that first thing to earn it, and since then, even if I wasn’t deep into the Club, I’d had an informant named Beverly, and I hadn’t heard his name mentioned once.