Ride Steady (Chaos, #3)(25)

Shy was one of Tack’s lieutenants. He’d been a full member longer than Joker or Rush. He was a lot like Tack, which was a lot like Rush. Loved his Club, loved his brothers, loved his woman, and not in that order. Tabitha Allen Cage came first for her husband Parker “Shy” Cage. The road to full member included eating a lot of shit from the brothers, cleaning up puke and other crap that was even more vile, stocking shelves in the store, proving loyalty and smarts on patrol, and learning Chaos history.

Shy hooking up with the one and only Chaos princess was not popular. You could f*ck whatever * you wanted, as much as you wanted, take any old lady you wanted, treat her like you wanted, it was your business.

But you didn’t do that to family.

Shy wasn’t just f*cking her, though, and the rock resting against the band she had on her finger proved it. It got to the point where it was almost her or his brothers. He made it clear if it got to that point, he picked her.

It was a surprise decision. But it being Tabby, the brothers made it clear it was the right one.

Joker made it to them, leaned into the bar, and put his shot glass down.

Shy filled it up.

“Thanks, brother. Won two large on you tonight,” Rush muttered.

Shy jerked up his chin. “And I added to my stash for Tab’s next set of earrings.”

Joker said nothing. He just shot the tequila.

It felt good his brothers bet on him, but then again, they’d be stupid not to. He’d been on the underground circuit a long time, well before Chaos. Had a stash of cash in a safe in his room in the Compound that he’d been adding to for years, all earned fighting.

He never lost.

He was a natural talent. He’d had years of learning how to take abuse and remain standing. He also could read an opponent. And he had a lot of incentive to beat the shit out of anyone who raised their fists his way.

“Boz, Hound, and Speck took care of that attorney,” Shy told him.

Tack, as always, sent the right ones. Hound was a lunatic. Boz wasn’t far behind. But Speck would keep their shit straight.

They’d make their point though. It was just that Speck would keep it from being messy.

He put the glass down and Shy again filled it.

He didn’t lift it before Shy started talking.

“Think you get what went down today, Cherry, Lanie, and Elvira took your girl firm into the fold.”

Not his girl.

Carissa Teodoro would never be his girl.

Joker stayed silent but looked into Shy’s eyes.

“Shit like that, girl like that, they’re mother henning all over the place,” Shy went on.

Not a surprise. He wasn’t sure he got why Elvira, who worked for a man called Hawk, a man who was undoubtedly a badass, but his business was nebulous, was so tight with the Club. Hawk was tight with Tack. There was a reason and Joker had learned that history too. But Elvira lingering… he had no clue. She wasn’t their people, and by that he didn’t mean black, he meant biker.

But she fit. She was hilarious.

And she didn’t take shit or let any of her sisters take it either.

Tyra and Lanie were more quiet about it, but they were the same.

Joker said nothing, just threw back the shot.

“What I’m sayin’ is,” Shy’s voice dipped quiet when Joker’s hand dropped. “She’s in the fold, brother, and shit gets around. Shit like, you f*ck another fighter groupie in an alley, that could get to her, and your girl…” He shook his head. “That’d damage her.”

Joker finally spoke.

“She’s not my girl.”

Shy’s brows shot together. “The woman brought you pie.”

She did, and he wanted to taste it. Not since Mrs. Heely looked after him did he have that. Not until the old ladies at Chaos threw barbeques and the boys did their hog roasts and anyone found any reason to party, which happened often, and people would bring good food they made to eat.

He wanted to taste the goodness Carissa could put in a pie. There probably was a lot. So much that pie could win awards.

But by then, that pie lying around, he figured his brothers had decimated it.

Joker stopped thinking about the pie and changed the subject, asking Shy, “You sure you wanna be the person to tell me who I can f*ck?”

“You can f*ck biker skank, fighter groupie, mix ’em up, I don’t give a shit,” Shy replied. “I’m just sayin’, you take the path that leads to her, you wanna keep butterflies in your bed after you get them there, the days of empty * are done. I figure you know that, seein’ what Tack has with Cherry, Hop with Lanie, me with Tab. I’m just sayin’.”

Joker grabbed the bottle himself and poured another shot.

After he took it, he again looked to Shy. “Not lookin’ to put butterflies in my bed. But even if I was, she’s not like that, so I wouldn’t get her there.”

“Dress was cheap, brother, same with the shoes. But it was all she had. She put ’em on, did up her face, her hair, and trotted her ass into a den of bikers to bring you a pie. You want butterflies, at this point, you gotta crook your finger. You wanna keep ’em, you gotta be smart.”

“You don’t know Carissa,” Joker told him.

“I know no bitch makes pie for a man she doesn’t have in her sights,” Shy returned.