Wild Wind: A Chaos Novella (Chaos #6.6)(10)

“You know it doesn’t end, Jagger,” she replied curtly. “It never ends.”

Oh yeah, he knew that.

He knew when you lost a parent too early, that hurt never went away.

Even if you didn’t remember that parent.

It just never went away.

But she knew her mom.

So that had to be worse.

“Talk to me,” he urged.

She shook her head and took a step away. “I gotta get back to my shop.”

“I’ll walk you there.”

“Don’t bother.”

She made a move.

He caught her arm.

She stopped moving, glanced at her arm, then aimed her eyes to his.

“We’re done talking,” she informed him.

“We haven’t even started and we shoulda started ten years ago.”

“Yes, we should have, but we didn’t and now it’s too late.”

“What’s too late?”

“Jagger, let me go.”

“Archie—”

“Is your brother good?”

At that question coming out of the blue, the contraction in his neck got a whole lot worse.

“Yeah,” he said carefully.

“Well, my brother went off the deep end, man. He and my dad barely talk. He’s constantly an asshole. He hurts people with seemingly no remorse. My family fell apart. And it would have been nice to have you around so you could tell me how you all kept yours together.”

With that, she yanked her arm free and jogged away.

Jagger let her, not because he was done talking to her.

Not even close.

But because, clearly, she needed space.

So he’d give it to her.

And he would because now, he knew how to find her.





Chapter Two



In or Out



Jagger



Tomorrow, cool?

Jag stared at his brother’s text, thinking it was not cool.

But it was what it was.

And what it was, was that Dutch and his woman Georgie wanted Jagger over for dinner.

That would never be a problem, both his brother and Georgie were good cooks, and if they got busy, they had a fantastic relationship with DoorDash.

Not to mention, Dutch loved his big brother and Georgie was the shit.

The problem was, Carolyn was going to be there.

Carolyn was Georgie’s sister.

She was also Jagger’s ex and things had not ended copacetic with them, mostly because, for years, Carolyn had been snorting coke when she said she wasn’t.

And, oh yeah…

Begging money off him so she could do her blow and get herself into a hole with all the designer-gear shopping she was doing.

Jag didn’t give a shit about the Chanel.

But drugs were a no-go and the thought his money went to that pissed him off.

Huge.

But now she was family, in a way, and he had to suck it up and put up with her.

Like at dinner tomorrow night.

Sure, what time? he replied.

7:00 Dutch sent.

Jagger returned the “ok” hand gesture emoji which pretty much said it all with how enthusiastic he was about this dinner.

Then he stared at his phone, moved down two in his text list, and sent another one.

You open to have a drink at the Compound tonight?

That one, he sent to Hound.

What he was trying to figure out right then was why he sent it to Hound, and not to Dutch.

Dutch was his brother of the blood and of the patch. They were both Chaos.

As their father, Graham Black, had been Chaos.

And as Hound, their other father, was Chaos.

Jag and Dutch were close.

But he’d never wanted Dutch to know about Archie.

And Hound had never brought it up, but Jag knew he knew about her because of the note he’d passed.

He didn’t know.

But he knew.

And Jagger was totally okay with that.

But not Dutch.

And with that…

Why?

His phone binged and he got, Yep. Time?

Jag smiled.

Hound wasn’t a man of a lot of words.

Though he knew how to use them when he needed them.

What he was, was always there for Jag and Dutch.

Always.

Nine good with you? he asked.

See you then, Hound answered.

That made Jag feel better.

Then again, Hound always did.





Shepherd “Hound” Ironside was already sitting at bar in the Compound of the Chaos MC when Jagger strolled in.

Hound was in his usual position when he sat a stool in the common room—hunched over a bottle of beer cradled in both hands.

But his eyes were on Jag.

“Yo,” Jag greeted.

“Yo,” Hound replied.

Jag passed Hound at the back to get to the end of the bar, and then he went behind it, because Hound was the only one in the common room, there wasn’t a Club prospect to serve them, so Jag had to get his own beer.

He did that, popped the cap, and then turned to stand opposite where Hound was sitting.

He took a drag from his beer and then leaned into his forearms on the bar, cradling his bottle the same way Hound was.

“You good?” Hound asked.