Wild Fire (Chaos #6.5)(55)

“On it,” Dutch said.

“See you soon. Later.”

They disconnected and he looked to his girl.

“We gotta go. Carlyle wants his mom and sister.”

She shoved him off before he could roll off and he got a view of her ass as she scrambled out of bed while he pushed up on an elbow.

She did this bossing.

“This time, I’m on coffee and cat food. You in the bathroom first. I’ll sort travel mugs. You just pour the coffee in while I get ready. Then we’re outta here!”

The last two sentences were shouted from the hallway.

He only had a second to stare at the door.

But he took that second to let it settle in his woman was safe and happy.

And the man who took Khalon Stephens from this world was going to pay for it.

Then Dutch got out of bed.





“They’re right, Shizlayaya is the shizla.”

Dutch looked from Georgiana—who, along with Carlyle’s little sister, Christian, was trying on about seventeen pairs of Tyra’s shoes—to Carlyle.

“Yup.”

Carlyle turned into him, and the way he did, his back was to the room and Dutch was hidden.

“Man—” he started.

“You don’t have to say it,” Dutch told him quick and low.

Carlyle looked to his shoes.

Then back to Dutch. “You didn’t mess around.”

Dutch looked around him to Georgie, muttering, “I had help. A lot of it.”

“Did they find yours? The guy that—”

Dutch again caught his gaze. “Yes.”

Carlyle aimed his eyes over Dutch’s head.

Dutch made a decision.

“Listen, Carlyle,” the kid looked back to him, “I wish I could say this is closure and one step closer in a process to bein’ able to lock up the feelings that grip you so fuckin’ tight, you think they’re gonna choke the life right outta you. But there is no process. This is just another day in a life without him.”

Carlyle looked back to his shoes.

“You steer clear of your mother and sister because he saw you?” Dutch asked.

“Yeah,” Carlyle grunted.

“Okay then, that seals it.”

Carlyle lifted his head. “Seals what?”

“He’s not lost because you’re here. You’re gonna look after your mother and sister. You’re gonna become the man he made you. Him. In his image. He carries on because he made a good kid who’s gonna become a good man like he was.”

“That’s not enough.” His face froze. He cleared his throat. And then he said, “I want him back.”

Dutch clapped him on the shoulder and held on, tight.

“You don’t get that, brother. But what you earned in this mess is me. I know how this feels. And when those feelings creep out of that box you put them in and grip you tight, you call me, and we’ll figure out some way to get you past them.”

Dutch dropped his hand.

And Carlyle asked, “Why you doin’ this?”

“Because I’m the man my father made me.”

It hit him then and Dutch didn’t look away when the wet shone bright in his eyes. He kept hold on Carlyle’s gaze when the first one silently fell. And the next. And the ones after.

They stood that way, Carlyle’s back to the room, Dutch giving him his attention, until Carlyle sniffed. He lifted his hands and rubbed his face with the heels of his palms.

Then he took them away.

“I’da’ve liked to’ve known your dad,” he said quietly.

“And I’d have liked to have known yours,” Dutch replied.

“Carlyle, Georgie’s gonna take me shopping!” Christian shouted.

Carlyle sniffed again, muttered, “Definitely the shizla,” lifted his chin to Dutch and turned. “Girl, you don’t need more shoes.”

“A girl always needs more shoes,” Christian retorted.

“This is the God’s honest truth,” Tyra decreed.

“Jesus,” Tack grunted.

Georgie was smiling at Dutch, so as Carlyle headed his sister’s way, he started hers.

He felt something and looked right, to see Tamira Stephens studying him.

Seeing that look on her face, a look that he’d seen carved into his mother’s face way too many fucking times his entire life, he gave Carlyle’s mom a tight smile.

She closed her eyes slowly.

Opened them.

And returned it.





“I told you, a couple of days. I’m on vacation. Tomorrow’s my man’s day. It’s brownie baking and snickerdoodle-rama Monday,” Georgie said on the phone to Kraken as they made their way down the mountain.

It was early evening and they were headed home.

Georgie had been sharing they got the bad guy.

She was now listening.

Dutch kept driving.

She again started talking.

“I don’t know what getting tased by Luke Stark buys you. I make a really good cheesecake with this kinda sour cream-like layer on the top. It doesn’t sound good, but it cuts the sweet of the cheesecake amazingly.” Pause then, “Listen, just come over for dinner.”

Dutch choked on his own breath.