Wild Like the Wind by Kristen Ashley
Slowly, Hound straightened from slouched at the bar and turned in his seat toward Boz.
“Dial it down, Boz,” he heard Hop warn, quiet and irate.
“Fuck that,” Boz returned. “We’re all steppin’ up and this guy hasn’t even taken patrol in fuckin’ months.” He said this jerking a thumb at Hound.
“He’s on his own mission,” Tack said.
“Well, he’s failin’,” Boz fired back.
Hound felt his neck start burning.
“Check yourself, brother,” Joker warned Boz, also quiet, also irate.
“It’s not only me who’s noticin’,” Boz bit back.
“You and the boys henpeckin’ over me, Boz?” Hound asked with casual curiosity.
“Fuck you,” Boz spat.
“Has it occurred to you I might have shit happenin’ in my life where I don’t got time to be suckin’ your cock?” Hound asked.
Boz’s face went hard, his torso swung back, then his face turned nasty. “Hell no, Hound. Known you decades, man. You’re about pussy and blood. The deeper the shit Chaos is in, the happier you are ’cause you’ll have asses to kick and then bitches to fuck as you ride the adrenaline high.”
“Am I lookin’ in a mirror?” Hound returned, because his brother just described his own damned self.
“Not from where I’m sittin’ ’cause I don’t have a mission,” Boz said that snide. “But least I’m on patrol and takin’ old ladies’ backs when it’s my turn.”
“You sayin’ I’m draggin’ this Valenzuela shit out after High’s woman was taken, hit in the face, watched two men die, and Rosalie got the shit kicked out of her?” Hound returned.
“I’m sayin’ you’re not a man who’s gonna be happy sittin’ in a rockin’ chair in front of the Compound when this shit is done,” Boz replied.
“No. I’ll drink tequila and fuck broads and raise hell and sleep real fuckin’ cozy, brother, smile on my face the dog that’s Valenzuela is put down, whatever way that is, and he’s not sellin’ pussy on my patch. Sellin’ junk that fucks people up on my patch. Doin’ anything to smear his oily, nasty shit on my patch. I stood side by side with you, brother, when it went down years back. But it was me who got bloody to avenge this Club, avenge my brother, keep us on the path to bein’ clean. So if you’re feelin’ a little impatient things aren’t movin’ fast enough, get your thumb outta your own goddamn ass and step the fuck up.”
“That’s a point you should take, Boz, but I’m gonna get in here between you two and say this shit doesn’t fuckin’ help,” Tack growled. “We fight ourselves, we’re not gonna have the focus to fight the real fight. So quit this shit and get over it.”
“Sebring’s done and he’s said that to you, Tack,” Boz reminded him of Knight’s repeated warnings over the last month. “He’s over this shit. Let him deal with it. You don’t do that, I know you’re tight with those cops and Hawk, but this is a brothers’ problem and the brothers best get to handlin’ it.”
“Why are you standin’ there tellin’ me shit I already know?” Tack asked. “If I could snap my fingers and have this done, I would. Since that’s not an option, find some patience, brother. Or take a break, get on your bike and ride. But don’t bring this shit on Chaos. You or any of the brothers have a problem with how things are handled, you bring it to the table. You don’t spill that shit all over the bar where nothing can get decided. And if you got any bright ideas, I promise, Boz, I’m all fuckin’ ears.”
While he was talking, the door opened and Hound was looking at Tack.
But Hop had looked to the door.
Then vibes came off Hop that made Hound look to the door.
And he had to put it all in to stop his own vibes from choking all the oxygen out of the air.
This was because Keely had strolled in.
What in the fuck?
“Keely,” Hop muttered.
“Jesus, never met her. Fuck, she’s amazing,” Joker said under his breath.
Tack turned to Keely as did Boz.
Hound kept his seat and stared at her strolling in.
She was amazing.
Jeans, scarf, suede jacket, boots, a bunch of jewelry that was kickass Native American or just kickass, hair shining, gorgeous face alert, she could have walked right out of a magazine.
Unfortunately, since the timing was shit, she’d walked right into the Compound.
“I come at a bad time?” she asked, rounding the curve to the bar.
“Never a bad time for you, darlin’,” Tack answered. “Everything okay?”
“No,” she told him, her attention moving direct to Boz.
Hound’s neck started burning again.
Oh no, she was not.
“What’s going on?” Hop asked, an edge to his voice, thinking she was dealing with some shit she wanted Chaos to handle, not having any clue Keely didn’t actually have a problem.
She was there to throw down with Boz.
Guess an entire weekend of Jean and Hound’s dick didn’t shore her up to be in a good mood for anything that came her way. It was Monday, she’d reset his alarm clock and left him in his bed at five that morning.
And now she looked like she wanted to kill someone.
Namely Boz.
“She said yes,” Keely told Boz.
Fucking hell.
“Who said yes, sweetheart?” Boz, like all of the men, careful and attentive to Black’s widow.
“Beverly,” she stated, tossing her hair. “She said yes this weekend when her guy asked her to marry him.”
Christ.
This was the worst possible time for her to be doing this.
Boz, wound up, got jacked up. Hound could feel it pounding off him.
“So, you want me to make sure she sends you an invite?” she asked fake sweet, tilting her head to the side.
It was on the tip of his tongue to intervene.
But who he was and who she was right there, in the Compound, on Chaos, he could not fucking intervene.
Someone had earned a goddamned spanking, that he knew.
“Keely, babe—” Boz started pacifyingly.
Standing a few feet in front of Boz, she put her hands on her hips. “You down with that, Boz? You good she’s gonna marry a wimpy guy with a little dick who doesn’t make her happy, just makes her not alone? You okay with that?”
Shit.
Joker made a low noise at “little dick,” but other than that wisely remained quiet.
“We were done a long time ago, honey,” Boz murmured.
“So you are good with that,” she declared. “You’re okay she’s still totally in love with you. Has been waiting years for you to pull your head out of your goddamned ass and—”
Boz was getting even more jacked up, all the men felt it, but Hound acted to do something about it.
He scraped his stool back, got off, rounded Boz and stalked to her.
Grabbing her upper arm, she snapped, “Hound!” but he whirled her around, dropped her arm, caught her hand and dragged her out.
He pulled her right to her car, jerked her until she was back to her door, got in her space, and bent his neck to get in her face.
“Are you insane?” he asked.
“Well, you wouldn’t do anything about it and she called me at school today to give me the happy news and then immediately burst into tears. And they weren’t tears of joy, Hound. So what do you expect me to do?”
“I expect you to go to her house, get her loaded and talk her outta marrying a guy who’s not for her. Not waltz into the Compound and get up in a brother’s shit.”
“Someone has to do it.”
“And that someone can only be you because you’re Black’s widow and you’re the only bitch breathing any brother would put up with that shit.”
She snapped her mouth shut and her eyes flashed.
“You know it,” he growled. “You know every brother would walk a mile with bare feet on broken glass for you. You haven’t used it but th
“You’re their dog on a leash, Hound, not me,” she threw in his face.
He leaned back.
Her expression instantly untwisted, going from pissed to repentant.
“Fuck, that was outta line,” she whispered.
“Damn straight,” he agreed. “Now go see to your girl and we’re off for tonight.”
He started to move away but she grabbed his wrist, murmuring, “Shep.”
He yanked it free and hissed, “Don’t fuckin’ touch me. Not on Chaos. I’m Hound on Chaos. The dick you play with belongs to Shep. Don’t forget that, Keely.”
She looked like he hit her but he didn’t give a shit.
He walked away.
Right into the Compound.
“You set her straight, brother?” Boz called as he stalked toward the door at the back that led to the brothers’ rooms.
Right.
Apparently they were all good when Hound was dealing with Boz’s problems.
Hound kept moving, turning only his head to Boz, having all the men’s eyes, but feeling only Tack’s stare.
“She’s right. Bev loves you,” Hound said. “You never stopped lovin’ Bev. She’s lonely and tired of goin’ it alone. Get your head outta your ass and do somethin’ about that, Boz. Or it’s gonna be too late. If it isn’t that shit already.”
He stopped at the door, turned to the room and lowered his final blow on his bud.
“And if you ever fuckin’ say shit like you said to me earlier again, brother, we’ll have problems. We got enough problems. Shit nearly tore this Club apart when we weren’t all in, takin’ each other’s backs. I’m doin’ my fuckin’ best for this Club at the same time dealin’ with my own problems. The fact you doubt that cuts deep. Think on that, Boz. We’re all impatient with this shit. You cut a brother because you can’t sort that in your head, you need a reality check. And I’m all up for givin’ it to you.”
He said that.
Then he disappeared through the door.
By the time Hound prowled out, all the brothers were gone.
Except Tack was still behind the bar.
“You off?” Tack called.
“Got shit to do,” Hound told him, still on the move.
“Hound,” Tack said.
Hound rocked to a halt and took the conversation he didn’t want to have in hand.
“You got anything more on Turnbull?”
“Only Sebring’s desire to see her put outta commission turning more and more rabid,” Tack answered. “You?”
“Got dick,” Hound answered. “And Valenzuela hasn’t resurfaced.”
“You’ve told me that, brother,” Tack replied quietly.
“Far’s I can tell, she’s closed ranks,” Hound declared.
“You’ve told me that too,” Tack said.
Hound told him something else he knew. “And she’s pulled off Chaos.”
She had.
For the last week, maybe two, no Valenzuela whores or dealers had been found on their patch.
All clear.
All clean.
All Chaos.
“I’m uneasy about that,” Tack shared.
“You’re not alone,” Hound replied. “I can’t get near one of her boys. They don’t roam alone or in groups of two anymore. She’s the wiser to me. They roam in packs. I try to dig into one, they’ll rip me to shreds.”
More likely fill him with bullets. They were clinical motherfuckers. They had a problem, they shot at it, had good aim, and then walked away. It wasn’t about brotherhood or family. It was about getting the job done. He fucked up one or he fucked up fifty of their soldiers, it was all the same to them.
“Then you need to pull back,” Tack told him.
“And where’s that get us?”
Tack didn’t look happy and the hard line of his jaw said just how less happy he was to say, “Waiting and watching, brother.”
“Unleash Sebring,” Hound advised.
Tack nodded. “I’m thinking, Turnbull is leaving Chaos turf, that’s our only choice. I’ll bring it to the table.”
Hound nodded back and started moving again.
He didn’t get far before he was stopped by Tack calling his name.
“Keely good?” Tack asked.
That didn’t make his neck burn.
It set it on fire.
“She’s pissed as shit at Boz.”
“He’s made the wrong plays with Bev for years,” Tack muttered.
He could say that again.
“I know how you feel about—” Tack started.
“No you don’t,” Hound bit out.
He’d told Tack he loved Keely.
But now that didn’t even come close to explaining where he was with her, even after that scene they’d just had.
“You were holding her hand, Hound,” Tack said carefully.
“I was dragging her ass out so she didn’t stick her foot deeper than it already was, walkin’ in with us the way we were and landin’ that shit on Boz.”
Tack nodded again. “You wanna talk about what shit you’re dealin’ with?”
He didn’t.
At least not all of it.
“Jean’s slowin’ down,” he said.
“What?”
“Jean. Lady I look after—”
“I remember,” Tack cut him off.
“She’s slowin’ down. And fast.”
“Fuck,” Tack murmured.
“That’s about it,” Hound replied.
“You need anything? Tyra’d be happy to pitch in. And you know Tabby could help.”
He said both with pride because he had two girls like that. But that pride rang deeper with Tabby since she was a nurse and there wasn’t a father who wouldn’t be proud his daughter did that.
“I’m gettin’ her a doctor’s appointment. I’ll let you know.”
And Tack nodded again. “Hang tough, brother.”
He had no choice.
He lifted his chin to Tack.
Then he walked out.
His phone rang at eight o’clock sharp, about half an hour after Hound left Jean because she was already asleep.
Not a good sign.
It was Keely.
His mouth tightened but he answered the phone with, “We’ll talk later.”
“I’m in the bathroom at Bev’s. She’s practically catatonic on tequila. And I can’t let it go any longer without saying I’m sorry for what I said.”
She sounded like she was in the bathroom and also whispering.
And fuck him running, it was goddamned cute.
“We’ll talk later,” he repeated.
“I lashed out because I’m mad about Bev, and this shit fucked with the glow of a great weekend. We lash out the worst at the people we care about because we think they’ll forgive us. But it isn’t cool.”
He said nothing.
But she was right.
She could cut him to shreds and he’d stay standing as long as he could and then accept her apology even while he continued to bleed.
“Saying that,” she continued, “we disagree about how that should be handled with Boz. I get that he’s your brother. But what you aren’t getting is that she’s my sister. You’d bleed for them. Do you think I wouldn’t do the same for Bev? She’s the best friend I’ve got. She’s the only aunt my sons have who’s worth dick. She’s like blood. Proved better than blood. She’s always been there for me. I’ve always been there for her. That’s the way it is, Hound. You’d not think twice about wading in for one of your brothers. Turn the tables, honey. I’m sitting on the other side.”
It fucked him that she had a point.
He didn’t tell her that.
He again didn’t speak.
“Hound?”
“You pour that woman in bed, you come over and text befo
“Okay, baby,” she whispered, sounding pleased with herself.
She won again but she was smart enough not to crow.
“And I told Boz to get his head out of his ass about Bev,” he told her.
She was still whispering when she replied, “You what?”
“We were having a heavy conversation before you showed. You couldn’t have worse timing than if you’d waltzed in five minutes before the sun exploded. So I’m not sure either of us got in there. You give me a heads up next time, I might be able to tell you that shit.”
“Right,” she murmured, and how he knew she was crowing now, he had no clue.
He just did.
So he said, “You’re sleepin’ with a red ass, baby. Serious as shit. I’m resetting the alarm to five. So pour Bev into bed soon. You’re gettin’ a workout before you pass out, Keekee. So you best get over here so I can dole out that shit and we can both get some sleep.”
“I’ll be there soon’s I can, cowboy.”
Now the woman was purring.
“Go take care of Beverly,” he ordered.
“On it. See you later, baby.”
“Later, babe.”
He hung up.
Then he opened his fridge.
He made his decision and nuked some of Keely’s leftovers for dinner.
The beginning of the end started that night.
He’d spanked her, fuck yeah, he had. Like the naughty brat she’d been, her jeans pulled down her ass, he’d given it to her.
Then he’d shoved his hand between her thighs held tight together with her jeans, found her sopping wet and made her come on his lap.
After that, he’d given her a workout, giving himself the same while he did.
Her ass was pink but her mood was still victorious, and after he pounded her fourth orgasm out of her (his second), he’d rolled to his back with her on top and let her give him all of her weight.
It took her a while to recover, but she did and she did it doing her pagan priestess act, lavishing every line and curve of his tats with the tip of her tongue, like it was her that put them there, her they belonged to and she was worshipping at the altar of her own creation.
Her hands were on him too.
But Hound just lay there, one arm thrown to his side, the fingers of his other hand wound in her hair, cupping the back of her head, and he felt what she was doing to him. What she was giving to him. Taking it, memorizing it, hoping like fuck it filled him up for the time when he’d have nothing like this and no hope to find it.