Motorcycle Man

Chapter Twenty-Eight Battle Scars

“Red.”

The door to the garage just opened and I hadn’t even got my head up to look that direction before I heard Tack’s gravelly voice say my name.

“Yeah, handsome?” I asked his head which was the only thing shoved through the door.

“Come into the garage,” he ordered and disappeared.

I got up, smoothed my tight skirt down my thighs and walked on my spike-heeled pumps around my desk to the door to the garage.

I did this happily, deciding not to get uppity about his order. And I did this mostly because we’d had a great night the night before and I was still riding that high.

It was Wednesday, two and a half weeks after the drama with Tabby and, fortunately, not much had happened. Or it had, just that all of it was good.

The hog roast had been a blast.

The trip down memory lane, tequila-infused sex-a-thon in Tack’s room at the Compound during/after was even better.

And last Saturday, Tack had driven his big Ford Expedition down the mountain to my house, Rush and Tabby trailing in Rush’s car. Once there, we’d loaded up a bunch of my stuff so I could move in with them.

Earlier in the week, while eating a dinner Tack wisely cooked (buttering them up, not, in the end, that they needed to be buttered) but before my introduction to the TV show Justified (and the dude who played the lead reminded me a lot of Shy, or at least his body did, and, incidentally the show was also good), Tack had shared the news I was moving in. Rush and Tabby, to my relief but not surprise, declared this “the shit”. Thus the five minute family meeting was over and the TV watching commenced.

Tack had ordered the recruits to move my furniture and anything else I didn’t take up the mountain to a storage unit. I was going to sift through it. Tack and I would decide what to switch out, what to add and what to get rid of. In the meantime, we were renting out my house and Tack declared we’d put it on the market, “When you’re ready, darlin’.”

I thought it was cool he didn’t rush me into this. Not that I needed an out. Just that things were happening fast. It felt less fast and more in my control knowing my house was still there. I was never going to move back, I loved my house but I loved Tack more and his house in the mountains was awesome. But at least the hold on my past was still in my grip and it was up to me when I was ready to let go.

I talked regularly to Lanie and she reported she and Elliott were doing “just fine”. She didn’t give a lot of detail on what they were doing but I guessed this was a Tack edict and this lack of information would keep me safe. I guessed this, I didn’t like this but I also didn’t question it. I had niggles of worry about it but my friend sounded happy. On my part, I shared with Lanie that I’d successfully helped her Mom with canceling all their wedding plans which was some serious work but it was also all done.

“And, maybe, soon, we’ll be home,” Lanie had said the last time I talked to her.

I figured this was an unintentional share of intel on the state of Operation Rivers of Blood but I didn’t ask, not her or Tack. I just hoped she was right.

Aunt Bette, on the other hand, hoped I knew what I was doing. This she shared in her last e-mail which was in response to the one where I told her I was moving in with Tack.

Since I suspected Aunt Bette shared, this also got me a phone call from my mother who told me, “We’re coming out soon, your Dad and I, to meet your new young man.”

For a variety of reasons, it was pretty hilarious she referred to Tack as my “young man” but I didn’t tell her this. I just told her flat out what she’d find when she and Dad got to Denver.

“He’s one of those Harley Davidson people?” she asked in a horrified voice.

I visualized her clutching her dress, her mind filled with thoughts of Tack wearing leathers and eating with a huge-ass hunting knife at the same time it was panicking about how she’d break the dire news to my Dad.

Though, one thing Tack had going for him, he worked with his hands.

“He’s that,” I confirmed to my mother and kept going. “He’s also handsome. He’s responsible. He’s devoted. He’s a good Dad. He’s unbelievably smart. And he loves me.” I paused. “A lot.”

“And you?” Mom asked softly.

“He’s everything I ever wanted,” I answered not softly.

“On a Harley Davidson?” Mom asked and I smiled.

“On a Harley,” I replied and it was then my voice got soft. “Give him a chance, Mom. I warn you, he won’t care what you think of him. He is who he is and that’s it. But he loves me, he takes care of me, he’s a good man and I love him. And if you give him a chance and don’t give into preconceived notions, you’ll like him too.”

Mom hesitated then asked, “He has kids?”

I told her all about Rush and Tabby which got me talking more about Tack and when I was done she was silent.

“Mom?” I called.

“You do love him,” she whispered.

One could say my apple fell far from their tree. Even so, they loved me, I loved them and my Mom knew me.

“Yeah,” I whispered back.

“We’ll come with open minds,” she declared.

That would be a first.

I didn’t say that.

I said, “Thanks, Mom.”

Monday night, I’d gone shopping and had dinner with Elvira and Gwen.

Last night in bed, I’d given Tack what I’d bought. A long dogtag chain with two stamped dogtags at the end. One was stamped with an American Flag. The other one was stamped with the words “Ride free”. We’d just happened onto it and it couldn’t be denied it was made for my man. So I bought it.

Some of the brothers wore jewelry, some of them lots including rings, necklaces and bracelets. They were all exclusively silver or leather or studs. But Tack didn’t wear any at all. He didn’t even use one of those wallets with the long chains on them that attached to his belt like the other boys did. So I didn’t know how he’d take this.

I still thought it was made for him.

So I gave it to him while we sat in bed. Tack with his back to the headboard, legs stretched out in front of him under the covers that were pulled up to his hips. Me sitting nervously on the other side of the bed from him.

Tack had the chain dangling over his hand, the tags in his palm, he was looking down at it, his thumb moving it around, face expressionless and he asked, “You had these made for me?”

“No, I just happened onto them and thought of you.”

“Thought of me,” he muttered to his palm.

“You don’t have to wear them,” I offered, slightly disappointed but not surprised by his reaction. “You can hang them from the rearview mirror of your truck or something.”

His eyes lifted to me but they gave nothing away.

What gave it away was when his hands lifted, he opened the chain and dropped it over his head to settle the chain around his neck.

“You don’t have to wear them, honey,” I repeated softly though I kind of wished he would since they looked freaking great on him.

“We’re in bed,” was his strange reply.

“Uh… yeah.”

“Don’t like bringin’ her here.”

Uh-oh.

I braced and asked, “Who?”

“Naomi.”

Oh boy.

“Kane –”

“She never gave me anything.”

I blinked.

Then I whispered, “She never gave you anything?”

“Birthdays, yeah. Christmases, yeah. For the fuck of it, ‘cause she was out somewhere and thinkin’ of me,” he held my eyes, his getting heated then he finished with his voice a low rumble, “no.”

“Handsome,” I breathed.

“You gave me this,” he wrapped a fist around the dogtags and gave them a yank, “so I should express my gratitude but I’m in a certain mood which means you’re also now gonna give me head.”

My nipples started tingling.

“Don’t worry, darlin’, after, or maybe during, I’ll return the favor,” he went on and someplace else started tingling too. When I didn’t move he asked, “You gonna sit on your ass starin’ at me or wrap your mouth around my cock?”

“Do you like them?” I asked quietly.

“I’m never taking them off,” he declared.

Wow.

“Never?” I whispered.

“Not ever,” he returned.

God, I loved him.

“Babe, want your mouth,” he prompted and I didn’t move. “About now,” he growled.

His intensity wasn’t about getting head.

It was about the dogtags.

Yeah, my man liked them.

I grinned. Then I crawled to him and gave him my mouth but I started doing it by kissing his.

Though it ended up somewhere else.

Then that led to something else and that something else was what made Tack able to get away with ordering me around at work.

I went through the door to the garage and searched the huge space with my eyes as I walked down the stairs. I spied Tack standing beside the cherry red car.

My eyes ran over it. It was gleaming. It was old but in a way where it got more badass and awesome as time went by. The color was righteous. The shape sleek and kickass.

Bottom line, it was cool as all hell.

Tack watched me walk to him and after I rounded the hood to get to the side he was on, his arm moved and he underarm threw a set of keys to me. My hand shot up automatically to catch them and I stopped moving.

“Mustang,” he stated loudly to be heard over the noise in the garage. “1967 Eleanor Fastback,” he continued like that meant something to me which it didn’t until I stood standing beside what I was guessing was one.

“It’s cool, Kane,” I told him the truth and also did it loudly.

“It’s yours, Red.”

I blinked, blood seemed to rush quickly through my entire system but mostly through my head and my legs started shaking.

“What?” I breathed.

He read my lips and I knew he did because he responded.

“Your car is solid, decent, you got a lot more miles before it’ll start givin’ you headaches,” he declared. “But it isn’t you.”

“Me?”

“Wild and sweet, can both snarl like a bitch or purr like a kitten.”

My hand flew out, I leaned down and pressed my fingertips into the hood of the kickass Mustang my man just gave to me and I did this to hold myself up.

“You can’t give me a car,” I informed him.

“No? Weird. Just did.”

I stared at him then asked, “Is this because of the dogtags?”

His head jerked to the side. “Babe, seriously?”

Truth be told, that was a stupid question. He’d been working on that car for ages. When he decided to give it to me, I didn’t know. I just knew it wasn’t this morning.

I looked down at the car.

Seriously, it was kickass.

So who cared when he decided to give it to me?

“Just gave you a car, Red, you got nothin’ for me?” Tack asked and my eyes went back to all that was him. Kane “Tack” Allen standing in faded jeans, a tight white tee, tats visible, hair messy, goatee overlong, stubble on his cheeks he didn’t bother shaving that morning, lines radiating out the sides of his eyes, eyes that were so blue they could be used on a color wheel.

God, he was beautiful.

Every way he could be.

“Yes,” I replied. “I have something for you.”

Then I turned and in my tight skirt, on my high-heeled pumps I walked back to my office. Once there, I dropped the keys to my new car on my desk, closed the blinds and locked the front door. As I was locking the front door, Tack came through the door to the garage. Once he was through, he put his hands to his hips. I moved to him, my eyes never leaving his, his chin dipping down so his wouldn’t leave mine. I got close, reached beyond him and locked that too. Then I snapped the blinds on that door closed.

Then I turned and walked to my desk. I stopped there, turned toward him and, lifting my gaze to his, I shimmied my skirt up my hips.

I watched Tack’s eyes drop to my hips and flare.

Then I shoved my thumbs into the sides of my panties and shimmied them down until gravity took over and they fell to my ankles.

I had just stepped out of them when my back was to the desk, Tack’s hips were between my legs, his torso was pressed to mine and his tongue was in my mouth.

Halfway through, Tack grunted against my lips, “Told you you were wild.”

To which I gasped against his, “Shut up, handsome, and fuck me.”

“Thought that was what I was doin’,” he remarked and he was not wrong.

My fingers slid up in his hair and I breathed, “Harder.”

“Wild,” he muttered.

Whatever.

He gave it to me harder that was all I cared about.

I didn’t know if the noise in the garage drowned us out.

I did know it got heated and the phone crashed to the floor and broke.

And I also knew I didn’t care about either.

After Tack fucked me on my desk, I took my new baby out for a test drive.

When I drove back into Ride, I saw Tack walking out of one of the bays.

After I parked and walked to him, I put my hands to his chest, leaned into him and got up on my toes.

In position, I smiled huge and whispered, “You’re right, honey, wild and sweet, she purrs like a kitten and snarls like a bitch.”

“I take it you like her.”

One of my hands slid up into the back of his hair and I didn’t answer with words.

But I did use my mouth when I answered.

Two hours later, Dog pushed out of the chair opposite my desk and headed to the door, saying, “Catch ya, later.”

“Later, Dog,” I called.

“Later, brother,” Hop, lounging on my couch, said.

Dog walked out.

Dog and Hop had been in my office the last half hour, shooting the shit.

Now only Hop was in my office and I wasn’t sure how I felt about this. It had been a while since all that happened went down but I’d never been alone with him so I could deal when I was around him. Now I was alone with him.

“Cherry,” he called.

“Unh-hunh?” I asked my computer screen, my back to him.

“Babe, can you look at me?”

This was voiced soft and it was a little surprising. Hop wasn’t a soft kind of guy. He could have a laugh, he could tease but there was an edge to him the other guys didn’t have. Or, I should say, they all had edges. It was just that Hop’s was edgier.

And, on a biker, that was saying something.

Him voicing this request softly was also a little worrying.

Still, I did as he asked and when I swiveled my chair his way, I found he was no longer lounging, back to my couch. He was sitting, elbows to his knees, leaned toward me.

Oh boy.

Hop had black hair and a black mustache that ran along his upper lip, thick down the sides of his mouth and grew thicker and a bit long at the sides of his chin. He worked what would likely look ridiculous on anyone else because he had full lips, a strong jaw, fantastic cheekbones and great gray eyes that had lines radiating out of the sides of them like Tack’s.

Oh, and he was a biker and that was the biker mustache to end all biker mustaches.

“What’s up?” I asked.

“Shoulda never left you at the mercy of BeeBee.”

I knew this was what this was about.

“Hop –”

“My defense, gorgeous, didn’t think the bitch was that stupid. Maybe dumb enough to mouth off to one of the other old ladies. Tack’s woman? That’s a whole new brand of stupid.”

I couldn’t argue that.

“We don’t have to talk about this,” I told him.

“I left you out there, pissed Tack off and he got in my face about it.”

“I’m sorry about that,” I said quickly, he lifted a hand and shook his head.

“I deserved it, Cherry.”

“I –”

“I did,” he stressed, dropping his hand. “Most ‘a the other women could hold their own against that bitch. You, I saw you come out while I was takin’ off, knew she was in there, shoulda known better.”

I smiled at him. “I think I proved that very night that I can take care of myself.”

Hop didn’t smile. “Women got different weapons and they’re sharper and more lethal.”

I couldn’t argue that either.

Hop continued, “She’s gone, won’t happen again but still, what I wanna say is, it won’t happen again. Way you are with Tack, way you took care ‘a Tabby’s business, the brothers got your back.”

I felt goose bumps rise on my skin. The good kind.

I’d earned their respect.

I knew this after brats and potato salad.

It was just good to have it confirmed.

“Does Tack talk about me?” I asked.

“No, though he’s my brother so even if he did I wouldn’t tell you,” Hop answered, taking the sting out of his words by grinning at me.

“Then I’ll tell you, I can’t do sweet.”

“Come again, gorgeous?”

“I can’t do sweet,” I informed him. “So don’t be sweet unless you want me to burst into tears or something.”

“Wouldn’t want that,” he said, still grinning.

“Treat me like the badass I am,” I ordered and his grin became a smile.

“That, I know.”

My head tipped to the side at his words. “Pardon?”

“That, I know. Won’t say how I know but let’s just say I know you’re bossy.”

I knew how he knew. He was full of shit. Tack talked.

I rolled my eyes.

Then I rolled them back and bossed, “So are you going to treat me like the badass I am?”

“You got it, Cherry,” he said through his still smiling lips but he barely got it said when his smile cleared, his brows shot together, his head whipped around, his torso jerked up and he leaned into the window to peer out the blinds.

Suddenly, he was on his feet, his hand to his back pocket pulling out his phone.

“What –?” I started but he stretched his other hand out to me.

“Stay there.”

Oh hell.

Hop strode to the door but it flew open before he could get there and Naomi stormed through.

Oh hell!

“Where is that motherfucker?” she shrieked.

Hop had his phone to his ear and his body between me and Naomi.

“Calm down, woman, and step outside,” he growled at Naomi.

“Fuck you!” she screeched.

“Tack,” Hop said into his phone. “Please, God, brother, be close. I’m in the office at the garage. Your old bitch is here and your old lady is also here.”

Naomi leaned to the side and pointed at me around Hop’s long, lean, jeans and tee clad body, shouting, “He gets his ass here, I’ll deal with him. Then I’ll deal with you, you cunt!”

My body jerked back in my chair at that surprising, harsh and totally uncalled for insult but Naomi was gone. This was because Hop had his hand in her chest. He reached around her and opened the door then he shoved her through and closed it.

I stared at the closed door.

“Oh no,” I whispered to it as I slowly stood, vaguely hearing Naomi’s shrieking outside. “Hell no.”

I stomped to the door, threw it open, stomped to the top landing and stared down where Hop and Naomi were at the bottom of the steps.

“What did you just call me?” I asked.

“Oh fuck,” Hop muttered.

“Cunt!” Naomi screeched, eyes slicing up to me.

The pressure in my head exploded and I stomped down the steps.

“Oh fuck,” Hop said, louder this time.

“That’s it, bitch, in your fancy-ass skirt with your fancy-ass shoes, you think you can take me?” Naomi asked.

She was rolling from foot to foot, hands up, fingers wiggling at me in a “bring it on” gesture even though Hop still had his hand in her chest and kept pushing off on it, shoving her back step by step as I advanced, my high heels clicking loud.

“You just called me the c-word,” I stated.

I heard the quick beat of running motorcycle boots and vaguely sensed mechanics and body shop guys coming out of the garage but I had my target in my sights.

“Yeah, I did. I called you a cunt, you cunt,” Naomi leered. “Tryin’ to take my kids from me. I got the papers,” she snapped.

“I got her, one ‘a you get Cherry,” Hop ordered and I felt a strong arm wrap around my chest from behind.

“Stand down, sweetheart.” I heard Brick say in my ear.

I stood still in his arm but didn’t take my eyes off Naomi. “You have a situation with Tack, you talk to Tack about it. You do not come to my office, shrieking, making a scene and calling me filthy names.”

She stopped and was leaning into Hop’s hand at her chest. “Oh yeah? I do, what’re you gonna do about it?”

What were we? In third grade?

Okay, I’d play.

“You don’t want to find out,” I warned.

“You can’t take me,” she declared derisively.

“You’re probably right,” I agreed. “But I’d sure as hell have fun with the licks I got in.”

She lifted her hands. “Yeah? Bring it on… cunt.”

“Stop calling me that!” I snapped.

“Cunt!” she screeched and that was it.

And what it was it wasn’t Arctic Tyra.

No.

Lady Dragon got poked with a stick and she… was… pissed.

Therefore I tore free from Brick’s arm and ran the five feet to Naomi. Launching myself by Hop and clearly surprising all holy hell out of Naomi, I took a flying leap and tackled her to the tarmac. We landed with a bone-jarring thud, hers worse because she was under me and the breath went out of her which was good for me. I was able to semi-straddle her (my skirt impeded a full straddle) and get in a good solid smack right across her face before Hop yanked me off and pulled me, kicking and hissing, away. Lenny, the body shop guy, got in between a scrambling to her feet Naomi and me as did Brick and Boz.

“You bitch!” she shrieked, barreling toward me but the boys closed ranks and she ran into them.

“I have more where that came from, Naomi!” I shouted my taunt, struggling against Hop’s hold.

“Bitch!” I heard.

“Fuckin’ stop, both ‘a you.”

This came from our sides. I stopped struggling against Hop’s hold and my head turned to see Dog standing there, his arms crossed on his chest but his eyes were aimed in Naomi’s direction.

“Take a second, woman, look around you. What do you see?” He waited a second, apparently letting her do that and apparently she did it because no sound came from her though I couldn’t see so I didn’t know. Then Dog went on, “You fucked Tack over means you fucked us all over. You do not get to come here and do this shit. Clue the fuck in, Naomi. You’re out. This can only go one way and you were around long enough to know which way it’s gonna go. Advice. Be smart, settle your ass down and wait to talk to Tack when he gets here. You don’t, it’s gonna go the way you know it’s gonna go.”

“This is none of your business,” I heard her hiss.

“You’re on Chaos, bitch.” I heard and my neck twisted to see Arlo standing a few feet behind Dog. “You know that shit ain’t right.”

Something must have given because Lenny, Brick and Boz stood down by moving away and I saw Naomi glaring at Arlo but although it seemed the situation had defused, Arlo wasn’t done.

“Tack’s call, ‘cause you’re the mother of his kids, he decides not to ban you, we’ll honor that. But you ever come on Chaos again and talk with that mouth to Cherry, you pushed out Rush and Tab or not, you’ll never come back. You get me?”

I was feeling love for Arlo and Naomi was saved from having to answer when the roar of Harleys could be heard. Three, to be exact (yes, that was how good I was getting at deciphering the noise of the pipes). And moments later we saw Tack, Hound and High roll in.

I relaxed against Hop but he didn’t let me go.

Tack and the boys stopped their bikes about ten feet away from Naomi and got off. Tack’s shades hit me and I saw them do a sweep as he walked wide to Naomi’s side.

Then he asked what appeared to be no on in particular, “There a reason why my woman’s knees are bleedin’?”

My knees were bleeding?

I looked down over Hop’s arm, stuck a foot out and put it back.

Yep, my knees were bleeding.

“That’d be because she tackled Naomi,” Dog offered then finished, “Justified.”

“Yeah,” Tack replied, his shades moving to Naomi, “heard that shit over the phone.”

I watched Naomi’s back go straight then I watched her spit at Tack, “Got the papers.”

“You don’t say?” Tack asked and I bit back my giggle but Hop didn’t. His chuckle wasn’t audible but I felt his body move with it.

“I say, asshole!” she snapped.

To this, Tack strangely responded, “Fifty thousand.”

Naomi’s body went still and, incidentally, so did mine.

“For each,” Tack finished.

What?

“A hundred,” she shot back and my body went solid as a rock.

Was she…?

Was she…?

Was she selling the custody of her children?

“Fifty, be happy for it. You know I’ll win in court,” Tack told her.

“I don’t know it,” she fired back.

“You know it,” he stated firmly. “Even if you don’t, you and that sorry man ‘a yours can’t afford to fight it.”

“Maybe I feel like puttin’ you through the hassle anyway,” she suggested nastily.

“Your call,” Tack said on a shrug then continued, “But that offer has an expiration. Five seconds.”

Her face paled, she looked quickly toward the office then back at Tack. “Can we talk alone?”

Oh. My. God.

She’d come here for this.

“Four seconds,” Tack said.

Her body jerked.

“Seventy-five,” she haggled.

Ohmigod!

She’d come here to haggle for her kids!

“Three seconds.”

“Sixty!” she snapped.

“Two seconds, Naomi.”

“Fuck you, Tack!”

“Right, one second.”

“Fine!” she clipped.

Tack crossed his arms on his chest. “Good. That’s outta the way, these are the terms. I have the papers drawn up. They’re delivered to you. You got twenty-four hours to sign them. That’s delayed even a minute, deal’s dead. You think of getting any bright ideas or that moron of a man you got does and you think to reopen negotiations, deal’s dead. Tab, Rush, Tyra, me or anyone connected with Chaos sees you or hears from you, deal’s dead. Once signed, the kids see you when and if they want to. They don’t, they don’t see you. You don’t call them or me or Tyra or anyone that has anything to do with Chaos or Ride. You do not show your face here, at my house, at Tyra’s, at the kids’ school, ever. Unless the kids instigate contact, you’re gone. Agreed?”

“When do I get the money?” she asked instantly and Tack stared at her, his face twisted in a way I’d never seen.

Revulsion.

“Jesus,” he muttered, “I had your gold on my finger for years.”

“When do I get my money?” Naomi repeated, her tone sharper.

“Not even Rush?” Tack asked what I thought was strangely before I got it.

She wasn’t even going to fight for her son and she supposedly loved him.

That got to her and I could tell because her face was now twisted too. But it was not revulsion. It was hurt and bitterness.

Apparently she needed the money more than her son. Her next words laid testimony to it.

“When do I get my money, asshole?” Naomi shot back.

“When I get the signed papers,” Tack finally answered.

“Works for me,” she muttered, swung her glare to me then around the group at large before she stomped to her car.

Tack prowled to me.

Oh boy.

Hop let me go, Tack tagged my hand and then I was clicking across the tarmac to the Compound. Once there, Tack pulled me inside and around the bar where he stopped me, tore off his sunglasses, threw them on the bar and put his hands to my waist. Up I went and my ass was on the bar.

“Don’t move,” he growled and stalked off.

I didn’t move.

He came back with a huge-ass first aid kit the size of which I blocked out instantly because of what its existence said about its owners. He set it on the bar beside me, dug through it, found what he was looking for and ripped open the foil pack to an alcohol wipe. I then performed a miracle when, as gentle as he was, I didn’t gasp when the sting hit me when he started swiping one of my two scraped and bleeding knees.

Looking, I also had scraped and bleeding elbows.

Damn.

Well, that slap was worth it even if I hoped none of this left scars.

After Tack finished cleaning my first knee, he’d opened another alcohol wipe and started on the other one, I thought it safe to offer quietly, “We’ll sell my car and I’ll put my house on the market right away. Maybe we’ll get a quick sale. And I still have a little money set aside.”

He was bent to the side to see what he was doing.

At my words, his body didn’t move. Only his eyes shifted to lock on mine.

“Say again?”

“To get the one hundred K for the kids,” I explained.

He went back to my knee, stating, “Don’t need to do that shit. I got it.”

My head jerked. “You have a hundred K?”

He tossed the bloody wipe down on the bar and went back to the kit to get another one, saying, “Yep.”

“Really?”

“Elbow up,” he ordered, ripping open another wipe then after he started working on my elbow, he answered my question, “Yep. Really.”

“So my old man’s loaded,” I whispered and his eyes came to me.

“Yep.”

I felt my eyes get wide.

“I was joking,” I informed him.

“I’m not.”

Holy crap!

He tossed the alcohol wipe to the side then placed a hand in the bar on either side of me and leaned in.

“Chaos has a lot of members. All money earned is doled out equal. But, babe, you’ve accepted payments for our cars and bikes. Those fuckers cost a fuckin’ mint. The stores are all way in the black. The point of decades of buildin’ that shit was so my brothers wouldn’t take a hit when we pulled outta the other shit. They did but that don’t mean that hit was big. We all live easy.”

If he had a hundred grand to toss around, he must live easy.

“I think I need a raise,” I declared.

He blinked.

Then he smiled slowly and I enjoyed the show.

After it was done, he said quietly, “But thanks for the offer, darlin’.”

“You’re welcome, Kane.”

His brows went up. “You really tackle that bitch?”

“I have the battle scars to prove it,” I said by way of answer.

“Babe,” he muttered.

“She called me the c-word,” I offered in my defense.

That got me another smile.

It faded and he whispered, “She signs those papers, we’re done with her.”

Better news, Tabby was.

“Yeah,” I whispered back, lifting my hands to curl them around his neck.

“All is in motion with the Russians. That plan goes down good, we’re breathin’ easy.”

He said no more, I correctly took it that was all he was going to say and even if that niggle came back I didn’t push it. I just nodded.

But I asked, “You okay? About Naomi, I mean.”

“Gives me the shudders, thinkin’ a woman who’d essentially sell her kids was in my bed and worse, as long as she was. But if this means the back of her, yeah. I’m okay.”

“Good,” I replied on a squeeze of my fingers.

“You need antibiotic ointment on your elbows and knees.”

“That might stain my blouse and skirt.”

“Babe, I’m loaded. Dry clean.”

“Right,” I whispered.

“Though, bad news for you, your skirt and blouse are already stained with blood.”

Such was the life of an old lady.

“Well, whatever, it was worth it.”

Tack gave me another smile but through it ordered, “Kiss me then I’ll sort you out.”

I held his eyes looking deep to be sure he was okay. When I was sure, I did as he asked.

Then my old man sorted me out so I was okay.