Wild Fire (Chaos #6.5)(33)

“Right, Sundance, Butch is gonna go open the door,” Dutch said, picking up the cat, getting an angry noise, putting the cat down on the couch after he angled off it, and hearing the thud of him jumping to the floor and following Dutch to the front door.

He opened it.

And he had no choice but to step aside when his entire family stormed in.

“Mwryow, mrr mrr, myow, myow, mrr,” Murtagh demanded to know why they’d interrupted his quiet night.

“What the fuck?” Jagger asked, staring down at the cat.

“Oh my God, that cat is the cutest thing I ever saw,” his mom declared.

“MWYOW!” Murtagh shrieked.

“What’s the matter with it?” Hound asked.

Dutch bent down, picked up the cat, and because big brother shit never died, he fell in love with it even more when he stretched out a paw, claws extended, scratching toward Jagger like he wanted to eviscerate him.

Dutch started laughing at the same time encouraging, “Atta boy.”

“What’d I do?” Jagger asked.

“Give him to me,” his ma said, and didn’t let Dutch move. She came to him, entirely unafraid of Murtagh’s murderous intent toward her middle son, and she took the cat. “Look at you,” she cooed, cuddling Murtagh close. “My first grandbaby.”

Murtagh immediately started purring and butting his mother’s jaw with his head.

“Jesus Christ,” Hound grunted then scowled at Dutch. “You know now I’m gonna have to get her a fuckin’ cat.”

“What are you all doing here?” Dutch asked.

“When did you get a cat?” Jagger asked in return.

“What are you doing here?” Dutch repeated. Then he looked to his mother. “And where’s Wilder?”

“We do know how to get a babysitter for your little brother, Dutch,” she replied. “Bev and Tad are with him. It’s getting late. Close to his bedtime. And anyway, his presence during this visit is unnecessary.”

His five-year-old brother’s presence wasn’t necessary during this visit?

“Okay, then someone answer my first question,” Dutch demanded.

They all looked at each other.

“Do I need to read minds? Go out and get some tarot cards? What the fuck?” Dutch prompted.

“Cool it, son,” Hound said.

“Not feelin’ cool with you all here, acting weird,” Dutch returned.

“We’re not acting weird,” his mom said.

“No one’s answering my question, that’s weird,” Dutch replied.

“Gotta admit, it is weird,” his mother said under her breath to Hound.

“Oh, for fuck’s sake,” Dutch said to the ceiling.

“You haven’t been to the shop in five days,” Hound declared.

Dutch looked to him.

“And you came to the Compound, got toasted, when you never get toasted, and crashed there, when you rarely crash there,” Jag put in.

“On top of not being in the shop for five days,” Hound said. “In fact, you haven’t been back on Chaos at all since you tied one on.”

“A brother does what he does. The shop not been covered?” Dutch asked.

“You know it has, but that’s not the issue,” Hound answered.

“What’s the issue that means you all show up unannounced at my house and act weird?” Dutch pushed. “I haven’t disappeared. It’s not like I’m not answering texts. I’ve just been busy.”

“With what?” Jag asked.

“That’s my business,” Dutch answered.

“Dude, we’re just worried about you,” Jag replied.

“There’s nothing to worry about,” Dutch stated.

“Now, Dutch,” his mother said.

And that was all she said.

Shit, shit, shit.

“I’m good, Ma,” he lied.

She gave him a look that said she knew he was lying.

Fuck.

“Listen, I just got something I’m workin’ out. I’m on it. It’s cool. And when I feel like sharing, I’ll—”

Dutch didn’t finish that.

His back straightened.

Jag and Hound both looked toward the side door.

Murtagh called, “Mwrr.”

And Georgie could be heard shouting, “Oh my God! Remind me never to agree to do anything like that again. I do not care how righteous the cause. You were so right. That Jackson guy is pond scum. He—”

She stopped speaking and stopped moving when she was one step into the living room, her face going pale as she stared at his family.

But Dutch’s vision was blurry, his head was fuzzed, and his palms were itching when he turned her way and barked, “What?”

She jolted and looked to him, whispering, “What, what, baby?”

He prowled to her, asking, “What’d that Jackson guy do?”

“Uh,” she mumbled, eyes huge in her face and aimed up at him as he stopped in front of her. “Your family is here.”

“What’d he do that you’re here barely an hour after I left you?” he demanded.

“Can we just say he wasn’t a gentleman?” she tried.

“No,” he bit.