Own the Wind (Chaos, #1)(84)

It was then Lee said to Shy, “Don’t make a mess.”

Oh God, God, God!

Worse!

Shy jerked up his chin.

“Usual Chaos drop-off, bring him there. I’ll be waiting,” Shy ordered.

Usual Chaos drop-off?

Yikes!

I didn’t have a chance to process the scariness of that. Shy shifted, his eyes moved through me, through the brothers, all of this like we weren’t even there and he prowled out of the Compound.

I will repeat: his eyes moved through me.

Never, not once, not even back in the day when I had a crush on him and he was too old for me, did Shy make me feel invisible.

Never.

My feet moved to launch me toward Shy, but I didn’t even get a step in before Dad’s hand locked on my arm.

I tipped my eyes up to look at him.

“Go home, darlin’, wait it out. It’ll be okay,” he said softly.

“I think he’s going to—”

Dad’s face dipped close, his eyes were dark, intense, he was feeling a lot of things but still his gaze was somehow gentle on me, and he reiterated, “Go home, Tabby. I got this. The brothers have this. It’ll all be okay.” He held my eyes and when I licked my lip he whispered, “Tab, trust me.”

“I don’t want to be visiting him in the penitentiary,” I whispered back.

“You won’t,” Dad told me.

“You either,” I went on.

“You won’t be doin’ that either,” Dad assured me.

“Or anyone,” I carried on.

Dad’s look, still gentle, flashed with impatience. “Tabby, honey, your message is clear. I get you but we got this. Do you think we don’t got this?”

I held his eyes.

Then I nodded.

He had this.

I hoped.

“Okay, Dad.”

“Got shit to do, darlin’. Go home.” His fingers tightened on my arm, they didn’t hurt but they sent a message. “Your man will be home tonight.”

I stared up at Dad and read it in his eyes.

My man would be home that night. What would happen when he got there was up to me, but my dad and his brothers were going to get him back to me.

I nodded.

He held my eyes before he said, “I see your play and it was filled with beauty. But, darlin’, I’ll say this once, we won’t go over this ground again. Shit like this is kept in the family.”

I got him. Boy, did I get him.

Luckily, there was only one man who murdered Shy’s parents and thus messed up his life, so this wouldn’t happen again.

“You won’t have to say it again, Dad,” I assured him.

“That’s my girl,” he muttered then used my arm to start propelling me to the door. “Now, get home.”

I looked through the guys. They were moving, shifting, huddling.

Planning.

They had this.

I looked up at Dad. “Love you,” I whispered.

“Same,” he rumbled.

I smiled and it was shaky.

Dad didn’t smile, he jerked up his chin.

I took in a deep breath and got the heck out of there.

*





Tack


The Harleys roared around them as Lee Nightingale and Kane “Tack” Allen stood close next to Lee’s Explorer.

“Not stupid, man,” Tack said, his eyes locked to Nightingale’s.

“Know that, Tack,” Lee replied.

“You still got my girl’s money?” Tack asked, and Nightingale jerked up his chin.

“Every penny.”

“You gonna pay that back or hold it?” Tack queried.

“Your call,” Nightingale answered.

Tack studied him then remarked, “You told my girl you stopped lookin’ but you never stopped lookin’.”

Nightingale’s face went hard. “Man loses his family, he should know who took them from him.”

It was Tack’s turn to jerk up his chin. “Do as he said. Take him to the drop-off. You won’t see any brothers but we’ll be close.”

Nightingale nodded.

Then he asked, “My team delivers him, we’re clear of this. Our part in this didn’t happen. Can you assure me of that?”

“Absolutely,” Tack confirmed.

Nightingale nodded again.

“Chaos marker,” Tack offered.

“That’ll do,” Nightingale accepted. “I’ll return the money to you.”

This time, Tack nodded.

Negotiations over.

Deal struck.

Lee Nightingale swung up into his truck.

Tack prowled to his bike, threw a leg over, made it roar, then he headed out to take his brother’s back.





Chapter Eighteen


Breaking the Circle


“Did she beg for her life?”

“Man, I got clean.”

“Did he?”

Shy Cage was sitting on his ass on the dirt floor of a shed in the foothills. He had his knees up, his elbows on his knees, his blade hanging from his fingers. His knuckles were split, torn and bloody.

The man in front of him, wrists behind him held together with plastic restraints, had fallen to his side. His position was awkward seeing as his feet were also bound together at the ankles. His face was mangled and bloody. Eyes nearly swollen shut. Blood was oozing from an ear.