Текст книги "Walk Through Fire"

Автор книги: Kristen Ashley

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Текущая страница: 21 (всего у книги 32 страниц)

“Yeah,” Justine replied, then moved to her and hugged her. “God, so cool to see you again.” She leaned back, still holding on. “All grown up and all grown up so good.”

“Tabby Allen,” Kellie said, moving toward them. “You were a cute kid, girl. Shoulda known you’d turn out to be a raving beauty.”

Then Kellie got her own hug.

“Remember me?” Dot asked, also hitting their huddle.

“Dottie,” Tabby stated, and looked to Kellie. “Um... Kellie, yeah?”

Kellie nodded.

Dottie gave Tabby a hug.

They moved away from Tab and everyone looked at me just as Rafferty arched up and took purchase on my earring with his mouth.

“Who’s that?” Tabby asked.

“Raff...” I cleared my throat. “Rafferty. Justine’s boy with her partner Veronica.”

Tabby smiled and looked at Justine. “He’s cute.”

“Damn straight,” Justine muttered.

“You gonna hug her too?”

This was asked from the other side of the room and I looked that way to see it was Elvira with her eyebrows up.

I looked back to Tabby.

Then I got up with Rafferty and moved to her, giving her a one-armed hug.

When we were close, she said in my ear, “Weird, you haven’t changed a bit.”

I pulled away and looked at her. “You have, Tab, and it’s all good.”

She smiled. “Thanks.”

At this point, Rafferty decided he felt like discovering a stranger, so he launched himself at Tabby with a grunt.

Tabby caught him and it was at that point I noticed she had more than a small baby bump.

As if to confirm this, Tyra said, “Get used to the feel of that.”

Tab looked down at Raff, grinning at him and grabbing his little hand to shake it. “Not thinkin’ that’s gonna be hard.”

“Right, that’s done,” Elvira declared, and all eyes went to her. “You pissed at us?” she asked me.

I looked at Tyra and Lanie, who both looked anxious. So I smiled at them so they’d stop being that way and looked back to Elvira.

“No,” I answered.

“Good, ’cause that woman you sent me to to plan my wedding is not gonna work out,” she announced. “You got a pretty office. Your office is da bomb. She don’t have a pretty office. How’s she gonna plan the most romantic wedding of the century if she don’t even have a pretty office?”

“Well—” I started, but that was as far as I got.

“She’s not,” Elvira decreed. “And even if her office wasn’t god-awful, she wears flats. I don’t trust no woman who wears flats. Not at all but definitely not to plan my wedding.”

“I wear flats,” Kellie stated, then finished, “Essentially.”

Elvira looked her up and down. “You wear biker chick boots. You get a pass.”

Dottie looked to me, prompting an introduction. “Do you know these people?”

“I—” I began again, and again that was as far as I got.

“I’m Elvira. This here’s Tyra, Tack’s woman, Lanie, Hop’s woman, Carissa, Joker’s woman. You know Tab. What you don’t know is she’s Shy’s.”

I looked at Carissa.

She looked like a grown-up cheerleader.

I didn’t know him that well but I still knew somehow that she was perfect for Joker.

“So, Chaos,” Dot noted.

“Yes,” Tyra finally got a word in.

“Whose woman are you?” Justine asked Elvira a question that I had.

“I don’t belong to a biker. I belong to a cop. But I been adopted,” Elvira explained.

At the mention of a cop in the same breath as Chaos, in unison, Dot, Justine, and Kellie all looked to me.

“Chaos has changed,” I muttered.

“You said it,” Elvira chimed in. “Vigilante bikers who ride out now to keep their turf clean of bad folk doin’ bad things.”

Again, Dot, Justine, and Kellie in unison looked to me.

“It’s a long story,” I muttered.

“It sho’ is,” Elvira confirmed. “And it’s Chaos and their shit stays tight. Don’t mean we won’t be sharin’ some beverages and wearin’ some little black dresses this Saturday night, communin’ and building the biker bitch bond at the same time me and Millie here lay down some tentative plans about my wedding of the century.” She focused on me. “I’m thinkin’ peonies but I could be talked down from that. I want soft and bling and I don’t care if those two don’t go together. It’s your job to make ’em.”

I’d heard it all when it came to weddings.

But soft and...

Bling?

“Elvira, your mouth,” Tabby said. “There’s a kid present.”

Elvira looked to Rafferty and asked, “You speak English?”

“Gah, goo, dee,” Rafferty replied.

She looked to Tabby. “Got more to say?”

Tabby looked to the ceiling.

Lanie started giggling.

Tyra mouthed to me, “I’m so sorry.”

“Club,” Elvira announced. “Not the biker kind, the Cherry Creek cocktail place kind. Eight thirty. Saturday night. All you all better be there,” she ended, circling her hand through the room. She then turned to Tyra. “Now I gotta get back to Hawk. He’s got three things goin’ down and has his calls forwarded to me. Luckily, no one has called and I wanna keep it that way. Dealin’ with Hawk’s shit not at my desk is a headache. So I need to get back.” She looked to the room. “Awesome to meet you. You.” She pointed at Kellie. “Heels, Saturday, girl.”

On that, she walked out.

“Elvira’s kind of a... character,” Lanie said when she was gone.

“I like her,” Kellie declared.

“Can my wife come?” Justine asked, then added hastily, “We both wear heels.”

“Wear what you want,” Tabby replied. “Elvira’s Elvira but we’re Chaos. Anything goes.”

“Awesome,” Justine said, and put a hand to Rafferty’s back. “Did you hear that, Raffy? Your mommies get a night out.”

He reached out, smacked her face, and giggled.

Everyone giggled with him.

Tyra moved deeper into the room and my eyes went to her to see she was looking at me.

“This isn’t trial by fire, honey,” she promised. “This is the welcoming committee.”

I knew that. I’d done this before.

I didn’t remind her of that. She was queen bee now.

Crank’s old lady had minions. I didn’t get into that kind of thing because Logan protected me from it, but Crank switched her out before Logan and I had ended anyway.

I had a feeling Tyra was not that kind of Chaos queen but one that was a lot different.

“Thanks,” I replied.

“We got off on the wrong foot,” Lanie said. “And Hop was—”

“We talked and I’m good with Hop,” I told her quickly so she wouldn’t worry. “I’m just...” I grinned. “Good.”

She grinned back. “Good.”

I took her in, liking what I saw. She was beautiful. She was classy. Hop was rough. He was a biker. The same could be said for Tyra and Tack.

Obviously that worked for them.

And I knew it would also work for Logan and me.

No halter tops and cutoffs.

Just me.

“I haven’t been a part of a welcoming committee yet,” Carissa spoke for the first time. “This’ll be awesome.”

“Batten down the hatches, Curly,” Tabby advised Carissa’s way. “And that’s not about the Chaos babes hittin’ town. That’s about us doin’ it with Elvira.”

I had a feeling she knew what she was talking about.

It had been a long time since I’d had a night on the town, or at least one that ended well.

But looking through the women, three of them my sisters of the blood and the heart, the rest my sisters of Chaos, I was looking forward to it.

High

“Here they are,” the woman announced, coming back into the room carrying two balls of fluff.

“Oh my God,” Millie breathed, and High turned his attention from the cat breeder to his girl.

When he did, he froze.

She didn’t.

Moving with purpose, but not in a way that would spook the kittens, she made it to the breeder and took both cats from her.

“That’s the boy.” The breeder touched the one in Millie’s right hand. “And that’s your girl.” She moved her hand to the one in Millie’s left.

“Look at you,” Millie cooed to the one on the right that she’d tucked up high on her chest. “You’re my own personal fluff ball, squishy-faced grumpy cat.” She turned to the other one, also tucked up high, and continued, “And look at you, my fluff ball, squishy-faced, pretty-pretty princess.”

High’s girls were going to fall head over heels for those kittens.

But right then, he was watching his Millie, alight with happiness, snuggle two tiny balls of fur and he did it fighting to breathe.

They weren’t her own babies.

But they were something to cherish.

There was no doubt she was going to cherish them.

And he was around so he got to watch.

Millie looked to the breeder. “These babies are the best things I ever spent money on.”

The breeder smiled.

Millie turned back to the kittens. “Time to go home,” she told them, then looked to High.

He forced himself to move. “Crates, babe.”

She nodded but asked, “Don’t you wanna meet them?”

He didn’t.

It wasn’t that he disliked cats. It was just that he was a dog man. He’d wanted to get a puppy for the girls for years but Deb didn’t like animals.

It was something he intended to do when he got a house. Buy a dog for them and for him.

Now they were all getting cats.

With the way Millie was right then, he didn’t mind.

But before he could say no, Millie shoved her right hand to him so he had no choice but to take hold of the boy kitten.

Christ, he was a squishy-faced grumpy cat. He looked kitty ticked.

He also stretched out a paw and clawed High’s whiskers with his thin baby claws, his big blue eyes staring at High with an intelligence High’d never noticed from any animal.

“Hey, Chief,” he muttered.

“That’s it,” Millie said, getting close to him. “He’s Chief.” She looked down to the cat she held. “And this little princess is Poem because only a poem could describe how beautiful she is.”

She’d always been good at naming precious things.

The memory made his voice rough when he said, “Let’s get them home, baby.”

Millie looked to him, searched his face, and smiled a sweet little smile.

“You’ve fallen in love,” she declared.

He had.

Twenty-three years ago.

“He looks pissed off,” High replied, and looked to the kitten. “But it’s a cute pissed off.”

“You’ve so fallen in love,” she returned, then stuck the other one out to him. “Here, try this one.”

She took Chief and gave him Poem and High looked down at her.

She was pretty, though she looked sad.

“Hope you’re smilin’ on the inside, darlin’,” he murmured to the cat. “ ’Cause you’re goin’ to a home where you’ll get lotsa love.”

The cat yawned.

Millie giggled and pressed her side to his.

High looked to her, then to the breeder. “We’ll get outta your hair.”

She nodded, looking content, and she would be, seeing as it was clear she found a good home for her brood.

“Keep in touch,” she invited. “Send pictures.”

High guided Millie to the two cat crates he’d bought as Millie replied, “I will. Tons of them.”

“That’d be great,” the breeder returned.

They got the cats into the crates and got them out to his truck.

High pulled out of the drive and headed them home, doing all this with Millie twisted in her seat, cooing to the backseat constantly.

“Woman lives fifteen minutes away, Millie. We’ll get them home before they’re traumatized,” he teased.

“I can’t take my eyes off them,” she said. “They’re that perfect.”

He reached out and curled his fingers around her thigh.

“Happy?” he asked.

She didn’t answer.

So he looked her way and saw her eyes on him.

Before he turned back to the road, soft, sweet Millie finally answered.

“Yes.”

He heard it in that word.

He should have known it.

Five days he had her back.

Just five.

And the way she said that word, he knew.

She’d been fixed.

It had nothing to do with High. It had nothing to do with cats.

It had everything to do with Millie.

When she wanted something, she didn’t fuck around.

She’d been broken.

After putting her together, she’d been fragile.

Then she’d toughened up, sorted her shit, and got on with it.

So yeah.

He should have known it.

That was his girl.

CHAPTER SEVENTEEN

Mom Jeans

High

FUCK.

Fuck.

“Babe,” he warned on a growl.

She kept at him with her mouth, body tucked between his legs, having woken him up to get to his dick. All he’d done was cock his knees, stay down, and get blown.

He wouldn’t know but evidence was clear, giving spectacular head was like riding a bike.

You didn’t forget. Not any of it.

Or at least his girl hadn’t forgotten.

“Millie,” he grunted. “Beautiful.”

She kept at him.

Which meant she was going to take him.

And she did when he blew. Through the phenomenal orgasm, he felt her tongue move on his cock when she swallowed and he felt the sucking strokes as she milked it all out of him.

Christ.

Outstanding.

When he came down, she was licking him, sucking him, cradling his balls. It wasn’t as good as the blowjob, but it was a close second.

“Bottoms off,” he ordered thickly, lifting his head to look down at her.

He felt a throb hit his dick when she kept licking and he saw through the early morning shadows as she lifted only her eyes to him.

Fuck, his girl got off on his cock.

He got up on his elbows.

“Bottoms off, Millie,” he repeated.

She wrapped her hand around his dick and lifted up. “Snooks, you don’t—”

“Off,” he demanded.

“But it’s okay for me to give—”

He pushed all the way up to sitting, forcing her to let him go and move up to her knees.

“Off,” he bit out.

She held his eyes but dropped to her hip in order to yank down her clingy, silky pajama bottoms. Taking her panties with them, she kicked them off.

They barely cleared her feet before High lay back, moving her with him, dragging her up his body and then some in a way she’d not mistake his intent.

So she helped, drawing up her knees to straddle his head.

But it was High that yanked her down, burying his face in her pussy.

She knew better than to protest.

He gave what he got or he gave better.

Nothing less.

So he gave what he got but he gave better, clamping her to him through her first orgasm and keeping at her until she trembled and whimpered through her second.

Only then did he drag her back down and reach for the covers to yank them over their bodies.

She was spent, he could tell with the amount of weight she gave him.

He didn’t give a fuck. He just held her to him and drew patterns on the upper swells of her ass.

He gave her time to get sorted before he announced, “That’s a fuckuva lot better than an alarm clock.”

She giggled.

While he savored a sound that he liked a fuckuva lot, they heard a soft thump at the side of the bed.

High tensed but Millie stretched away, reaching out to turn on the light. Then, bottom half still mostly on him, she collapsed her top half so some of it was on the bed, the rest of it was hanging over the side.

“Hey, babies. Hey, cuties. You trying to get up on the bed with me and Snook’ums?” she cooed.

High rolled, curving into her as well as looming over her.

Poem was sitting by the wall close to the door to the bedroom, staring at them.

Chief was close to the bed, backing away from Millie.

The night before, neither kitten had done much but hide and sleep. Millie got them to the litter box she’d set up in the small laundry room off the kitchen. She’d showed them their food and water. She’d wiggled some toys around them. But they were tuckered out from the drive and wary of their new surroundings, so mostly they hid under furniture and snoozed.

She’d wanted to collect the kittens and take them to bed with them.

High told her they’d survive the wilds of her fancy-ass house on their own.

She’d given in.

Now they were exploring.

She reached out a hand to Chief as the kitten blinked his big, baby blue eyes at her, then looked up and blinked at High.

“It’s okay, Chief. It’s good, sweetie pie. You’re welcome up here,” she promised.

Chief backed up, shifted to the side, looked to Millie and High, then backed up more, only to take his shot, run his hilarious kitty run, take a flying leap all too soon and not near high enough. He hit the side of the bed and hung there by his claws before he gave it up and fell to the floor.

He scampered out of the room.

Poem scampered out after him.

“I don’t know if that’s cute or sad,” Millie said, and High looked down at her to see her gazing after the cats.

“Babe, they’re eight weeks old. They’ll get big and strong enough to make it to the bed.”

She twisted her neck to look up at him. “I should get up. Make sure everything’s okay. Make sure they have food. Fresh water.”

“You should. But before you do that, you should kiss your man.” He landed a hand on the small of her back. “ ’Preciate the wakeup blowjob, baby. Feel free to do that any time the spirit moves you. But you leave this bed to start your day, you do it after I get your mouth another way.”

She grinned and turned her body under his, pushing up.

Her lips hit his as he wrapped both his arms around her and fell back, she fell on him and she gave him what he wanted.

And as was the only way...

High gave it back.

*  *  *

“We appreciate you workin’ with us on this, Millie,” High listened to Mitch Lawson, Denver detective, say to his girl.

They were at the Chaos cabin in the foothills.

There were men installing an alarm system in Millie’s office, so it was a good time for her to get away. Pete had picked her up to bring her to the meet, trailed by Hound and Boz.

High, Hop, and Tack had met them there.

Millie had told her story and it had been recorded. But while she told it, Mitch and his partner, Brock “Slim” Lucas not only listened, but took notes.

“That’s not a problem,” Millie replied.

“I know Chaos has you covered,” Slim said, and Millie and High looked to him. “You may not have noticed this but we’ve got cruisers patrolling your area, as well as the homes of other Chaos members who have women and/or kids. Police presence isn’t oppressive in order not to alarm neighbors. But if Valenzuela has his eye on anyone, they no doubt will note that presence and back off.”

High looked from Slim to Millie to see her nodding.

It was done.

Time to do something else.

“Millie’s been outta town and she runs her own business,” High said, and looked to Mitch and Slim. “She needs to get back. You get what you need?”

“Got it, High,” Mitch muttered. Then to Millie, “Again, thanks.”

She pushed back from the table and stood and the men stood with her. These being Slim and Mitch. Tack, High, Boz, Hound, and Pete were where they’d be with any old lady in this situation.

At her back.

She shook hands with both detectives, mumbled, “Nice to meet you,” then High moved in and claimed her.

He led her firmly to the door while she called her farewells to the brothers.

He stopped her at the passenger door to Pete’s truck.

“I’ll ride down, meet you at your house,” he stated, and she looked up at him.

Then she looked closely at him.

“Is everything okay?” she asked.

“Absolutely,” he answered.

His answer was true but his tone was rough and he knew it. So he also knew it didn’t sound like everything was okay.

In other words, it wasn’t a surprise when she continued to question him.

“You sure, Snooks?”

Fuck, it was messed up, but he’d missed Snooks.

He bent to her, lifting a hand to wrap it around the side of her head, and he took her mouth in a brief but hard kiss.

He lifted away and murmured, “See you at home.”

He saw her eyes widen slightly at that and he didn’t know if it was her concern at his tone or a reaction to him calling her place home.

He didn’t stick around to find out.

He let her go, turned away, walked to his bike, swung a leg over, and fired it up.

He gave her a brief wave before he rode off, seeing Pete heading to his truck as he did.

He was at her house fifteen minutes before Pete dropped her off. Long enough to make certain the cats hadn’t destroyed anything. Long enough to witness that they were settling in mostly because they were snoozing and barely blinked their eyes when he found them snuggled in a basket that held extra afghans.

She came in the back door, her eyes to him standing in the space between living room and kitchen with his hands on his hips.

“I think it’s safe to say I’m a little freaked out, Low,” she told him before she closed the door. “You’re acting funny.”

He didn’t say a word.

He turned around and walked through the living room and down the hall.

“Low,” she called.

He knew she followed him because he heard her cooing to the cats and then he heard her boots strike on the wood floors.

He’d stopped inside her room and positioned so he saw her when she entered, rounding into the room, eyes to him, concern now blatant.

“Okay, it’s official,” she said softly, moving to him. “You’re totally freaking me out, Logan.”

She got within arm’s reach.

Which meant a beat later she found herself pressed face-first to the wall with him using his body to keep her there.

“Low,” she whispered, hands to the wall, pushing.

He ground his crotch into her ass.

“Wore my dress,” he growled in her ear.

And she did. The sweater dress that clung to every beautiful inch of her body and there were a lot of them.

He heard her breath catch and the way she was pushing back into him changed.

He yanked up her skirt.

“Oh God,” she breathed, now grinding into him with her ass.

She wanted what he was going to give and she wanted it bad.

This was not about her not getting any for decades.

This had always been Millie. She’d always been up for it anywhere, any way he wanted to give it to her.

The thought and that proof grinding into him made his dick get even harder.

He looked down, gliding a hand over her hip and thigh. He saw his girl in the dress that had been fucking with him since she walked into the cabin wearing it.

No, since they’d had words when he’d delivered the champagne weeks ago.

He also saw the lace edge of her thigh-high.

Fuck.

“Please, Christ, be turned on,” he muttered, sliding his hand up over her ass, into the rim of her panties at the small of her back, down and in.

“Baby,” she whimpered, now he could feel her trembling.

Wet.

He toyed with her to get her closer. When she had her head turned, temple pressed to his jaw, and he heard her panting, he yanked her panties down and felt her gasp go right through his dick.

He freed it, wrapped his hand around it, prodding the tip through her wet.

She got up on her toes, tilting her ass to give better access.

Fuck yeah.

Anywhere, any way he wanted to give it to her.

He wedged in the head, trailed his hand around her hip and then in.

He found her clit with his finger at the same time he drove his cock home.

Fucking ecstasy.

The back of her head dug into his shoulder as she took him, gasping, moaning, whispering, “God yes,” and “So good, Low,” and “More, baby.”

He gave her more until she got it all and while she was coming he put a hand to her jaw to force her to twist her neck as he bent to her so she was facing him. Then he took her mouth.

So when he shot inside her, he came against her tongue.

When he was done, he freed her mouth but only to tuck her forehead into his throat as they both fought to steady their breath, unmoving and still connected, pressed against the wall.

Eventually, he grunted. “Lost control. Next time you were in this dress, wanted you over my knees so I could hike it up, play with your ass and pussy until you begged me to fuck you.”

He felt her lift her head out of his throat and dipped his chin to look down at her.

She was hazy from coming.

She was also turned on.

Anywhere, any way he wanted to give it.

His Millie.

“We’ll do that next time,” he promised.

Her eyes softened and that look on Millie, High had no choice.

He kissed her again.

This time, he did it easing his cock out.

When he was done with her mouth, he righted her clothes and his, led her by her hand to the bathroom, and cleaned her up.

They walked out together, but with Millie going in front of him, only to stop so he had no choice but to stop with her.

Right away, High saw what stopped her.

Poem was chasing Chief across the floor. She pounced. They rolled, scratched, and mewed. Chief got loose. Poem got to her feet. They went into stare-down.

Then Chief chased Poem out of the room.

There was humor in her voice when she whispered, “Best money I ever spent.”

High moved the half a foot that was separating them and wrapped his arms around her from behind.

He kissed the spare inch of skin under her ear exposed by her turtleneck and felt her tremble as she wrapped her arms around his, her hands at his wrists giving them a squeeze.

She turned and twisted as he lifted his head up. She kissed the bottom of his chin.

They’d had moments like this, practically daily, back when they were together. Random moments of tenderness that happened after sex or before it or whenever the spirit moved them.

Fuck, but he’d missed that too.

When she was done with her kiss, he gave her his eyes.

“Need to go check on progress in my office, Snooks,” she muttered.

“Right,” he muttered back, brushed her mouth with his, and let her go.

He didn’t move in order to better enjoy her ass in that dress walking through the room.

She stopped at the door and turned to him.

“I only have one turtleneck dress,” she said softly, a look in her eye he liked a fuckuva lot. “But I have three sweater dresses. One’s kinda fancy, so my biker best take me out to dinner so he can get his reward.”

After delivering that, she walked out.

High still didn’t move.

She’d changed a lot since they ended. None of it in good ways.

Except shit like that.

She might not have had a lover but that didn’t mean she didn’t mature. She didn’t come to know herself better. She didn’t gain confidence.

She obviously did.

She was a hot piece back in the day. They went at each other all the time. And their sessions could get intense and last a very long time.

But there had not been shit like that coming from Millie.

Not where he’d just fucked her, out of control just because of a dress, and then she’d give him a look and say shit that made him want to drag her back and do it again. Do it until he forced her to lose control. Dominate and get her to the point where she was the one begging for more.

If he’d had her all the time in between, that might not have happened. They would have had what they had, which was great, and kept it. Or that shift would have happened and he wouldn’t have noticed it.

But there wouldn’t be that nuance of change that hit him right in his cock. There wouldn’t be the newness to discover. There wouldn’t be fresh things to savor.

It sucked but it seemed there were pieces of the hell that was being apart that were worth walking through to get to what they were building.

The same but different.

Just as good but better.

On that thought, he pulled out his phone, moved his thumb over the screen, found what he wanted, and hit Call.

Then he made a reservation for a fancy steak dinner Monday night at The Broker.

*  *  *

An hour later, after the alarm company had done their final test on the system, it passed, and he’d left Millie, High walked into the Compound.

He moved straight to the brothers who were hanging in a huddle at the bar—Tack, Shy, Hop, Hound, Pete, Joker, and Boz.

“Yo,” Hound greeted as he made it to the bar.

High looked to Hound, gave him a chin lift, then looked to Tack.

“Slim and Mitch good?” he asked.

“Yep,” Tack answered, and held his gaze. “Valenzuela still had eyes on Millie, brother. Joke noticed them and Snap noticed them when he was sitting on her house yesterday. Speck reports nothin’ today.”

High did not like this. He didn’t like it enough that he was burning to do something about it.

He couldn’t. He hated it. But too much was riding on it for all of them.

So he had to bury it.

“Joke told me,” he grunted, and returned Tack’s steady gaze before he went on. “This shit is takin’ a long time. We got no in with Valenzuela’s crew. Not even insider gash he sells who gives shit info for a ton of cake. Lucas and Lawson are gettin’ more than us but what they’re gettin’ is mostly dick, too, and we got more pains in the ass patrolling more territory and keepin’ an eye on our women.”

This wasn’t lost on any of them. Months ago, when they heard that on the street, their reputations had taken a hit and with it, the respect they’d earned, they’d pushed Valenzuela, claiming more turf, growing that from the five-mile radius around Ride that they’d patrolled for years to ten.

They’d also done other shit, like brothers moving out to beat the absolute snot out of the man who shared that he thought Chaos were pussy.

The message had been relayed. No one else had fucked with them.

But looking after more turf took more time. More patrols. More manpower.

Valenzuela landed dealers and whores on their patch regularly, so it wasn’t uneventful but it still was a pain in the ass.

“This is why I called you here,” Tack said.

“We’re all here now. You gonna give us that?” Boz asked.

Tack looked briefly to Shy before he announced, “Got a girl on the inside.”

“Who?” High asked.

Tack didn’t answer High.

“You need to keep your shit,” he warned Shy.

“Oh fuck,” Shy muttered. “Natalie?”

Christ, High hoped not.

Natalie was the one who got them stuck in this mess in the first place. A friend of Tab’s so deep into Valenzuela for blow, she couldn’t pay her debt and Valenzuela got creative. This meant she was going to work a porn set, not doing that manning a camera.

For Tabby, Chaos had intervened before she made that debut. When they did, they bought Valenzuela’s displeasure and more of his attention.

It had been a while with both sides butting heads but not much happening.

High didn’t like living with that shadow.

One way or another, he wanted it done.

But he didn’t trust Natalie. She’d fucked their shit, got sober for a nanosecond, then fell into the junk again. No one had seen her in months.

If Tack sent her in, he’d be surprised at his brother’s play. Tack above all the brothers knew they shouldn’t hang anything on a junkie who wouldn’t deliver. And Valenzuela liked Natalie less than the brothers did.

“Rosalie,” Tack said.

High straightened and moved slightly closer to the huddle as the room went alert.

This was because Rosalie was an ex of Shy’s. A sweet girl. Like Millie, born an old lady, though quieter than Millie, less ballsy. Still, Shy introduced her to the life and you could see she took to it, and Shy, right away.

He’d dumped her for Tabby and that might not have been fun for him, but it wasn’t ugly. She got burned by him but word was she held no ill will.

Actually, no one held ill will.

And Rosalie was another way High didn’t want to see this shit with Valenzuela done.

“What the fuck are you talkin’ about?” Shy bit out toward Tack.

“You ended it with her, brother; she got in with a Bounty,” Tack explained.