Walk Through Fire (Chaos, #4)(63)

Dog was right.

Boz looked bummed.

Someone had to do something about that and I decided that someone would be me.

I turned back to Dog and grinned. “This is a party, so that can’t happen.”

He looked to me and winked. “Go get ’im, girl.”

I slid off my barstool, grabbed my beer, and said, “Tequila. Stat.”

Dog turned, nabbed a bottle of tequila from the back of the bar, and handed it to me.

I lifted it. “Perfect medicine.”

At that, he smiled and muttered, “No doubt.”

I tipped my head and smiled back, then moved through the room, past the pool tables, toward Boz, my feet in biker boots, my ass covered in cutoffs, my top barely covered in a halter.

As I approached Boz, he didn’t even look at me.

The guys looked. They hugged. They even touched, a hand or a waist, sometimes a tug of the hair. I was a girl. I was showing skin. They were men in the sense they were men. This happened.

But I was an old lady, so it happened in a certain way that would not communicate anything that Logan wouldn’t like.

It was respect to him.

It was also respect to me.

It was Chaos.

I finally got Boz’s attention when I threw myself onto the couch beside him and declared, “Know a boy who looks like he needs a buzz.”

He smiled a smile that didn’t reach his eyes, then tipped his head to the bottle. “You gonna take care of that for me?”

I extended the tequila. “Absolutely.”

He grabbed it, murmuring, “Gratitude, sister.”

Sister.

I sighed happily and slouched next to him, our bodies touching from shoulders to knees.

He uncapped the bottle, flicked the top, and it flew then skidded across the floor, unheeded, several feet away.

I watched as he took a healthy tug.

When he dropped the bottle, I asked, “You okay?”

“I’m good, Millie,” he told the room.

And he lied.

I looked from him to the room and I saw the party.

I also saw something else.

I was an old lady, so I wasn’t let in on a number of things. If the boys were at our place and conversation turned to something that wasn’t mine to know, Logan gave me a look I knew and acted on without question. I then would get out of earshot, going upstairs to listen to music in our bedroom or going to the second bedroom to study.

That didn’t mean I didn’t hear things or see things.

And right then I saw things.

What I saw was Tack, Brick, Hop, and Black standing in one corner, huddled and talking, beers in their hands, none of this happening in a way that seemed they were at a party.

I also saw Naomi, Tack’s old lady, sitting at a table with Keely, Big Petey, and Bev, a new girl who was hanging around that Boz normally, if he wasn’t in a crappy mood, would be paying attention to. Keely, Bev, and Big Petey were shooting the shit. Naomi had all her attention focused on her old man and she didn’t look happy.

The woman rarely looked happy but in this instance, she looked less happy.

And last, in another corner, I saw Chew and Arlo talking with my man.

They stood with Crank.

Crank was Chaos’s president. Crank was a decent guy but he was also the only one who kind of freaked me out.

I couldn’t put my finger on it but every brother I knew was genuine. They were who they were and showed it, no bullshit.

I got a weird feeling that what made Crank went deeper, possibly darker. That feeling told me he didn’t share it all. And it was so stark compared to how all the other brothers were it freaked me.

I watched and saw that Crank right then was not paying attention to Chew, Arlo, or Logan, who were also huddled and talking.

He was staring at Tack in a way I found chilling.

I didn’t know what this meant. All I knew was that Brick and Dog were fresh brothers. Hop too.

And they’d all been recruited by Tack.

All the brothers could put forward a man to become a recruit but Tack had been busy the last few years.

I also knew Chew, Arlo, Boz, and Logan had all been recruited by Crank.

So had Black.

But Black was standing with Tack.

There was a split. I felt it. It wasn’t tension, nothing with the brothers was that perceptible.

But there was a vibe.

Things were changing in the Club in a lot of ways. The store and garage were getting busier, the Club pushing for that, which meant Logan was working more. It also meant, since the brothers split any profits equally, he (which translated to we) was making more money.

Like, a lot more money.

Though there was more and that more meant Logan was busy far more than he’d ever been before on Club business that had nothing to do with the store or the garage.

I got the sense he liked it at the same time I got the contradictory sense that it troubled him. I also got a sense that whatever this was was a moneymaking venture that had nothing to do with selling auto supplies and building custom bikes and cars or even growing and selling pot.

Logan didn’t talk about it and I knew he wouldn’t so I didn’t ask so I couldn’t know.

This troubled me.

That concern didn’t run deep. I wasn’t out and out worried. I wasn’t questioning things. I knew these men. I knew this family.

I also knew they were bikers, lived in their own world, had their own rules and did things their own way and those things were whatever the hell they wanted to do.