Walk Through Fire (Chaos, #4)(67)

When I thought I’d scream, he said one word.

“Nudge.”

Then, just with that, he gave me a weird, frightening smile, looked to the men in the room, jerked his head, and they all walked to my hall and disappeared.

I heard my front door open and close.

I stood frozen to the spot, breaths coming in rasps, torn between running the other way and running their way to make sure they were gone.

I heard a car start up outside and I also heard it drive away.

When I heard it no more, I moved.

I did it fast and I did it without thinking.

My movements took me to the drawer in my kitchen that held a variety of things, all of it meticulously organized in trays.

I grabbed my car keys and dashed out the back door.

I didn’t lock it.

I ran to my car, got in, tossed my purse to the passenger seat, started up, turned the SUV around in my courtyard, and headed down my drive.

I then took a trek I had not taken in twenty years.

I drove to Broadway, down Broadway, direct to Ride Auto Supply.

Direct to Chaos.

I pulled in, drove down the side of the store, and saw the big garage in the back where they built their bikes and cars. I headed into the massive forecourt of the garage, turned left, and parked outside the long building that ran the length of the space from the back of the store to the end of their property.

The Chaos Compound.

I parked, got out, and ran into the Compound.

I skidded to a halt in a place I knew like the back of my hand, hadn’t seen in decades, and with the little I took in, noticed it hadn’t changed a bit.

I’d skidded to a stop at the curve of the bar that ran along the front of the room.

There I saw Big Petey on a stool and seeing a man I once cared about deeply, I couldn’t hack it.

So I looked behind the bar to a good-looking, young, blond guy I didn’t know and snapped, “Who’s your president?”

I was holding on by a thread. I was drained from travel, my body in a different time zone, and I’d had my home invaded by a man I knew was the worst news there could be.

“Say what?” the blond asked.

“Millie—” Pete started, and I sensed him getting off his stool.

I whipped up a hand, palm out his way, not looking from the blond but declaring to Pete, “You don’t exist.” Then I used my hand to jab a finger at the blond and demanded, “You. Tell me immediately. Who’s your president?”

The blond didn’t look happy some strange woman was barking at him but I didn’t give that first f*ck. I’d stand there and scream my question until I was hoarse in order to get an answer.

The blond opened his mouth to speak when I heard from behind me, “I am.”

I turned at the rough voice I knew all too well and watched Tack sauntering into the Compound.

He’d taken over.

His side had won.

And Logan was still Chaos.

This didn’t surprise me in the least.

Bottom line no matter who held the gavel, Logan would be Chaos.

It was what he was.

It was all he was.

That filtered through me but as it did I didn’t lose hold on my mission.

I turned to Tack.

“You have this one shot,” I declared. “It happens again and I survive it, I’m going straight to the cops. I know Chaos doesn’t like cops and this is the...?final...?respect I pay the Club. It happens again, I don’t care if it brings down the brotherhood. I’m going to the police.”

Tack didn’t look from me when he ordered, “Snap, get High. Now.”

“No!” I yelled, panic leaking in, me beating it back, and I looked toward the bar to see the blond moving the length of it. “Don’t you move!” I cried. “This is not about High. I do not wanna see High.”

“Go,” Tack commanded. “Fast.”

The blond jogged out.

Fuck.

Focus. I had to focus.

“Millie, sweetheart, you’re riled up,” Big Petey said from behind me. “Come sit down, girl.”

I didn’t look away from Tack.

“You get him to back off,” I demanded. “You tell him I am not Chaos. You tell him to keep the f*ck away from me.”

“You need to talk straight to High, Millie,” Tack returned, weirdly gentle, like he was handling me with care. “You know how it is, darlin’,” he finished.

“Why?” I asked. “He’s not president.”

“It’s his business, not mine,” Tack replied.

“It is yours. It’s,” I whirled a finger in the air, “all of yours.”

Tack started to say something but I felt a hand light on the small of my back so I whirled, then I scampered four steps deeper into the room, running into a chair and stopping.

“Do not touch me,” I hissed at Big Petey.

He flinched, his face turning haggard with worry, then he looked at Tack.

I also looked at Tack and saw him watching me closely.

“High’s at the store, Millie. He’ll be here soon,” Tack said.

“I don’t give a f*ck where he is,” I retorted. “You’re the president. You deal with shit like this. I know. I know this is your shit because he told me. Benito Valenzuela sat in my,” I jerked a thumb toward myself, “cuddle chair while one of his minions pointed a gun at me and he told me!”