Own the Wind (36 page)

“She’s hit bottom, and I’m seein’ from your girl that when she does somethin’, she goes big,” he explained.

“Wh… what? What’s she done?” I stammered.

“Not a lot of time. You need to get dressed and to the Compound, which is where I’ll be takin’ her after I get her ass. It’s also the safest place for you if there’s blowback.”

Blowback
! I freaking
hated
that word.

“Shy—”

He cut me off to lay it out for me. “She got in deep with a dealer. She owes him big. He’s takin’ his money back from her in pussy and when I say that I mean, her eating it, hers getting fucked, and all of this happening on camera. She’s right now dolled up and ready to give her first performance on a porno set.”

“They film pornos in Denver at three in the morning?” I breathed stupidly, focusing on that rather than the fact my best friend was preparing to make her film debut and not in a good way, and Shy stared at me.

Then he said, “Babe, pisses me off fuckin’ more than I am already that you didn’t know that and now you do. This bitch of yours, she’s not teachin’ you any more of these lessons. She shared with me she doesn’t feel like girl on girl or takin’ cock from a guy she doesn’t know and havin’ all that on film. She wants an extraction which means, she’s your girl, she gets one.” His hands pressed gently into my jaws as he emphasized, “
One
, Tab. I know these assholes, and Chaos is gonna buy a shitload of trouble for intervening.”

Suddenly, I had scores of worries and one was my mind suddenly dredging up the word
firepower
.

“What do you mean, Chaos is gonna buy trouble?” I asked but I knew.

Crap, I knew.

I was going to
kill
Natalie.

“That, I’m not gonna take the time to explain,” he replied, yanked me to him, kissed the top of my hair, let me go, turned, nabbed his boots, his tee, and prowled out the bedroom door.

I stared at the opened door. In order not to focus on the matter at hand which had my heart racing, I took in something that never failed to calm me.

I looked around our bedroom, taking in our new kick-ass bedroom furniture (my old stuff was in the guest room, Shy’s stuff was at the dump).

I loved our room. I’d gotten inspired. It was totally biker meets biker babe from birth. Black furniture. Deep purple sheets. Chrome accents. A black-and-white picture of me and Shy on his bike, taking off from the Compound, my arms around him, my chin to his shoulder, Shy looking badass cool in mirrored shades.

Sheila had taken that picture and I’d had it blown up to nearly poster size, framed in a black-and-chrome frame and it was hanging over the dresser. It might seem conceited to have a big poster of us looking awesome cool on our bedroom wall but I didn’t care. I thought it was the bomb.

Shy did too. I’d kept him away as I was doing up the room and when I unveiled it, he’d shown me he loved the whole thing by starting a marathon session that began on our purple sheets, moved to the floor and ended on that dresser. There was a handprint on the glass of that poster, mine, put there when my hand flew back to steady me as Shy gave me an orgasm. I didn’t have it in me to get out the Windex. I wanted to remember giving Shy a room he liked that much for a good long while. That handprint might stay there forever.

The last touch to the room was a wonky ball of pressed-together Christmas candy wrappers that I’d had put in one of those cases where you normally display signed baseballs. They were the wrappers Shy had cleaned up after my Hitchcock marathon right before what was not officially but still was (kind of) our first date. I’d found that ball of wrappers and saved it. I’d buried the reasons why in my pit of denial but I’d kept it and then had it mounted when we moved into our house. It was sitting on my nightstand.

When he saw it, Shy didn’t celebrate that in his normal way. He just cupped my jaw, slid his thumb tenderly along my cheekbone, held my eyes, his soft and warm as he muttered, “You were gone for me too.”

He was right. I didn’t admit it at the time. It was crazy.

But I’d saved a ball of discarded Christmas candy wrappers.

I was gone for him too

Firepower.

Shy took off with zero word from me that I wanted him to do so. He just went off to save Natalie, dragging the brothers with him.

He was off saving Natalie from a drug dealing porn kingpin.

Firepower.

With trembling but quick hands, I dressed thinking if Shy got hurt, if any of my boys got hurt because my best friend was an idiot, no holds barred, I was going to go apocalyptic on her ass.

* * *

Two hours later, I was in the deserted Compound, drinking coffee I’d made and fighting back the urge to mainline tequila when Rush stalked in.

My brother looked like my father, save for the fact he got Mom’s light blue eyes which, fortunately for Rush, were one of the few good things she had to give.

Rush had always looked like Dad but, as time passed, he was looking more like him. He’d always been tall but lean, like Shy. Dad’s frame held more bulk. As Rush matured, and especially recently, being a recruit and spending time with the brothers in the storage room at the back of Ride’s auto supply store that held a bunch of weight equipment, his body was bulking out like Dad’s. It had more power and his muscles were more defined.

He was my brother and I was prejudiced, of course, but I also knew with the amount of dating he did and the fact that if he didn’t want to be alone he simply wasn’t, he was hot. He was also lucky that he was one of those hot guys who was hot young and got hotter as he aged.

Just like, from photographic evidence and memories, Dad.

I hadn’t seen him much recently, because being a recruit for Chaos wasn’t easy. They were on call to the Club 24/7 and still had to do their stints at the store and the garage.

Making matters worse for Rush, he only had one other recruit to help bear the load. The boys had christened the new guy “Joker” mostly because he didn’t smile often and never laughed. Club names were random and often ironic. Case in point, Shy was named Shy by the Club because back in the day, with women especially, he was anything but shy.

Although I didn’t see Rush much, Shy told me he was “settling in,” though he didn’t explain this phenomenon. He just said, “Doesn’t bitch, gets shit done, is always available, and keeps his mouth shut. He doesn’t share but way he’s actin’, it means somethin’ to him to pass that test. Both him and Joker are goin’ all out. They’ll get through, get their cuts, their ink, and, the way they’re showin’ their loyalty, it’ll be good having them at the table.”

This was positive news, so I left it at that, which was good because I knew Shy didn’t intend to give me more even if I wanted it.

But right then, I didn’t feel positive vibes mostly because my brother looked like he wanted to kill someone.

He, also like Dad, had a short fuse, and looking at his face, I knew the sparks were close to the dynamite.

This meant that Shy and Dad were likely close to the blast.

“Your girl,” he pointed at me, stalking behind the bar and heading toward where I sat on a stool, “is a pain in the fuckin’ ass.”

Not a good opening.

“Is everything okay?” I asked, as he reached up to a shelf and brought down the tequila.

He turned to me. “No.”

Crap!

“Are Dad and Shy okay?” I pressed.

“They were when I left,” he answered ominously. My heart tripped and before I could ask another question, Joker walked in.

I’d met Joker but I didn’t know him mostly because when I was around, he was busy.

That didn’t mean I hadn’t noticed he was seriously good-looking in a scary way that reminded me more of Lee Nightingale than Chaos. It wasn’t learned. It didn’t come from dealing with a tough life. It was a part of him.

Joker was tall, built, not bulky but also not lean, just muscled in a powerful way. He held his body and moved like he knew exactly what his frame was capable of and what it was capable of was a lot.

He also had a natural confidence that was kind of bizarre, considering he was younger than Rush, who was twenty-six. He had a thick head of black hair with more than a small amount of wave to it. He wore it long, hanging in his face and down to his shoulders. He also had a full beard that, unlike most of the brothers who sported facial hair, he kept trimmed. The beard made him appear older than his years. The tan he had made him look weathered and again older than he was.

But it was his steel-gray eyes that told the tale. That steel was like a shield, holding everyone back from the mysteries that lay within. This was kind of a weird coincidence, since his name was Carson Steele. And I didn’t know him, but I knew from those eyes there was no doubt there were mysteries that lay within.

Watching him stalk in, I thought, although I’d never tell Shy, Carson “Joker” Steele was more than a little intriguing.

At that present moment, however, he was also more than a little frightening.

He prowled around the outside of the bar, eyes glued to Rush, and he stopped four feet from me.

He then growled, “I do not like this shit.”

Uh-oh.

“I don’t like it either, brother,” Rush agreed before he took a slug of tequila.

Joker’s eyes raked through me before he strode across the room and disappeared through the door at the back.

The good news was, his eyes raked through me, and it seemed he was just generally angry, not angry at me specifically because my best friend was addicted to drugs, unfortunately chose a dealer who also made porn films and also unfortunately called me in order to extricate herself from a bad situation that involved cameras, sets, costumes, and fluffers.

The bad news was, I didn’t know what was going on but I did know it wasn’t good.

I turned back to my brother to see he was taking another pull of tequila, and I instantly changed my mind about what I was going to say next. First, I was going to ask for the tequila bottle. Second, after I took a hearty slug (or three), I’d ask what the heck was going on.

I didn’t get the chance. The door to the Compound opened, and I felt my eyes get wide when Elvira walked in.

Uh-oh again.

Elvira.

In normal circumstances, this could mean anything.

In the present circumstances, this could only mean bad things.

I’d known Elvira for years. She was a petite, curvaceous black woman who excelled at three things. She really knew how to dress. She put together things called “boards,” which were plates filled with fruit, cheese, veggies, and other stuff that didn’t sound all that exciting but the way Elvira did it, it was. And if she cared about you, blood, color, religion, politics all melted away, you became her sister in all that entailed and she let you know it. I knew because Tyra had that from her. I hadn’t quite been let in but then again, Elvira usually performed her adoptions when you were in the throes of a serious drama.

Something like what was happening right now.

It was also important to know she worked for Hawk Delgado.

I’d known Hawk for years too. He was a friend of Dad’s and around, not often, but enough.

I didn’t know what he did for a living, but since he routinely wore cargo pants and often sported a loaded gun belt in full view but had no badge, I had a sneaking suspicion he was either a commando or a mercenary. Though I couldn’t say what the difference was between those two, I just knew a man was one or the other. I also knew Hawk Delgado could totally join the cast of
The Expendables
but it was more likely he would act as a consultant on the film because Hawk Delgado didn’t playact badass. He just was one.

The presence of Elvira wearing a fabulous wrap-around green dress and spike-heeled chocolate brown boots while strolling into the Compound at five o’clock in the morning meant she wasn’t there for the usual reasons she was there: to eat, drink, and raise her brand of hell alongside a bunch of bikers.

Her expression and the phone held to her ear, not to mention the words she was snapping into it said finding fun while dressed to kill was not her current mission.

“I’m tellin’ you, Hawk, Tack kicked me out. I was all set, everything was good, then badass biker boy didn’t hesitate to blow my cover and send me on my way.”

Her cover?

She glanced at me, hauled her ass up on the stool next to mine, moved her gaze to Rush, and slapped her hand on the bar. This meant tequila, STAT.

She also kept talking on the phone.

“Those biker boys strolled in packin’. I knew no good things come to those who suddenly garner Chaos attention at three thirty in the freakin’ morning on a porno set and I was right. They made no bones about stating their intentions. They wanted that new girl. Those boys ambled in full force, the whole freakin’ Club showed, interrupted everything and launched right in, starting negotiations. Not surprisingly, Benito didn’t feel like negotiating. He wouldn’t accept a Chaos marker. He wouldn’t accept Chaos doin’ him a needed favor since you and me know Benito keeps his shit tight and he’s got no strings dangling so he don’t need no favor. He wouldn’t accept anything they were offering. He wouldn’t even accept payment with interest for what the girl owed him. The girl was goin’ to work. Seein’ she owes him thirteen thousand with interest, she’s got a lot of work to do. Therefore, negotiations had reached a stalemate and with those boys, well… you know.”

I closed my eyes.

Thirteen thousand. With interest.

All for drugs.

God, Natalie.

“Told you she was a pain in the ass,” Rush muttered.

My brother was not wrong.

Elvira kept talking and I opened my eyes to watch her.

“That’s when things got hot and I tried to hold my cover by not leavin’. Tack was tryin’ to be subtle then he got impatient with subtle when I didn’t move my ass so he upped and blew my cover in order to get me out of there before negotiations totally broke down. When I left, Benito gave me a look that was
uncomfortable
. Tack sent me on my way tellin’ Benito that if anything happened to me, shit that was already makin’ plans for the winter would seriously go south and on my heels he sent the Chaos recruits. I’m thinkin’ you know what that means.”