Antique chests set at slants, closing the arch in even further.
Flowered chairs stuffed in.
He had no idea how she made that bed seeing as she could only get to one side of it. But when they’d hit it last night, it had been made.
All this bizarre, he still had to admit that warm, dark cocoon, filtered with moonlight coming in from all around with its comfortable bouncy mattress was a great place to fuck.
And obviously sleep.
He felt like he’d slept for a year. Refreshed, his brain settled.
He heard some murmuring coming through the wall, female, Rebel, and then from Diesel . . .
“Just make them for him tomorrow. We brought donuts. We didn’t commit murder.”
Rush grinned and swung out of the bed.
Avoiding the chandelier, he yanked on his clothes, including his boots.
He left the tiny room to go into the tiny bathroom, which looked like it was paneled in barn wood that had been painted cream a hundred years ago. A short claw footed tub with a distressed gray side. Pedestal sink. Big window at the foot of the tub he thanked fuck was obscured by Essence’s jungle because it looked right into the bath. Shelf under it on which she had an antique oval standing mirror and a bunch of bottles with some conch shells. Tall wicker basket beside it stuffed with an enormous amount of dried wildflowers.
There was a wall partitioning the toilet, which weirdly was at the front of the room. That wall, as well as the walls in the bath area, had some stenciling in the upper corners.
He would have thought the room was a total wash. That small room that gave a feel of a funky outhouse with that little tub you couldn’t even stretch out in (even if he took baths, which he didn’t) if there wasn’t a shower room tucked off to the other side of the toilet. It had obviously been added on because it made the shape of the room wonky and it explained a weird wall in the living room.
That was all of Rebel’s cottage. A decent-sized living room, big kitchen, small foyer, tiny bedroom, diminutive bathroom. All of it surrounded by greenery, stuffed full of personality and mystifying style.
And Rush had to admit he liked it. He’d felt last night like they were alone in more ways than simply being alone. They had privacy. They were on their own little island, tucked in a forest away from people and traffic and the shit of life.
It was what he wanted in his mountain house when he got to that point.
It was another thing Rebel offered him now.
And having it, he decided, with Valenzuela out of the picture and half the threat gone, this was where they’d hang until it was all over.
He used the toilet, washed his hands, splashed water on his face and found some mouthwash to rinse.
Then he walked out, going into her headache of a kitchen she’d told him last night Essence had decided the paint job.
At least there was that.
The minute he walked in, he saw Rebel wearing a strapless cream, what looked like a bikini, top that had a tie in the middle of her tits that was cinched to show even more skin, low-slung, wide-leg pajama pants in a muted pastel paisley and a see-through cream—he didn’t know what the fuck it was—but it was a robe-like thing with little balls on the ends.
She turned to him and snapped accusingly, “D and Mad brought donuts.”
And they did.
There was a big LaMar’s box open on the kitchen table. D was biting into a chocolate-covered Bavarian cream, the cream oozing out the side, and Maddox was taking a swallow from a coffee mug, a half-eaten cinnamon twist in his other hand.
Rush knew his girl wanted to cook for him and was not pleased her shot was thwarted again, but he was glad for the quick breakfast.
He had to get home, shower, put on clean clothes and meet his dad and brothers at the Compound to roll out for the sit down with Valenzuela. A sit down he was looking forward to, seeing that asshole cowed and listening to him share he was slinking away.
That said, he’d prefer it if they were alone so he could explore that top and the stretch of flesh from the valley of her tits to lower belly it exposed. At least for a few minutes.
He figured fifteen of them would do it.
His mind went off all of this when he took in the look on Rebel’s face.
“Baby, I’ll eat your biscuit sandwiches tomorrow,” he assured.
“Yes,” she spat, turning her glare to her brother and his man, “you will.”
“Yo, bro,” Maddox greeted, completely unaffected by Rebel’s snit.
“Hey, man,” D said with his mouth full, also obviously unaffected.
He tipped his chin up at them and went to Rebel.
Sliding his arm inside the robe-like thing, he stopped with his hand at the small of her back and pulled her to him.
“I gotta go anyway, babe. Slept in. Need to get home, shower, get to the meeting.”
She glared up at him a second, then lost the glare and nodded.
After she did that, she rolled up on the toes of her bare feet and touched her lips to his.
When she rolled back, she muttered, “I’ll make you a travel mug of coffee.”
She went off and did that.
He went to the box of donuts and selected a cinnamon roll.
He ate it while she made his coffee. Rebel then wrapped up a chocolate-covered in a napkin for his second course and followed him to the front door where they made out too briefly before he lifted his head.
“Talk to them,” he ordered.
“I will. Be careful,” she ordered.
“I will.”
She smiled up at him, pressed close a second then pulled away.
He took the donut, he already had the coffee, and he walked the much shorter path to Essence’s back drive to get to his truck.
He ate his second donut and drank Rebel’s kickass coffee as he drove home.
Rush wasn’t thinking good thoughts as he rode his bike into the forecourt of Ride, heading toward the Compound and seeing Mitch Lawson and Slim Lucas standing with his dad, Hop, Shy, Snap and Hound.
He parked and swung off his bike, getting stiff chin jerks from a pissed-off-looking Mitch and a grim-looking Slim before they got in their unmarked cop car, started it up and pulled out.
He made his way to their huddle and stopped at his brothers, seeing their faces looked grim too as they watched Mitch and Slim pull away while High rode in.
“What’s goin’ on?” he asked.
Tack turned to him. “Cops got an anonymous phone call yesterday identifying those skulls as Crank’s, the other one Tyrone Spader, the man the police suspected of killing Black.”
Rush could not believe this shit.
“Valenzuela?” he asked.
Tack shook his head. “This stinks more like Chew.”
Rush glanced back to the forecourt before turning his attention again at his dad.
“Mitch and Slim didn’t look happy,” Rush noted.
“That’s more about the fact they know we took those two out, and they’re not fans of that,” Tack said. “But both of them were done before DNA matching was prevalent, so they don’t have any on file to confirm the IDs. Neither had kids. Crank’s ex hated him almost more than we did, think she burned everything that was his after he was taken out. But both have relatives. They could find them, take some DNA, make IDs that way. The issue with that is, even if they do, and they can tie them both to the Club with motive, there’s nothing else they got and nothing else to get. They can’t even know who to press charges against. The only brothers out are the brothers who weren’t in back then. They now know who’s dead. But it ends there.”
“That’s it? It ends there?” Rush asked.
“Mitch and Slim say we can expect to have search warrants served, Ride, Compound, probably our homes,” Tack replied.
“Shit,” Rush muttered.
“Nothin’ to find, Rush. A waste of everyone’s time,” his father assured.
“In other words, Chew did this to be a nuisance,” Rush remarked.
“In other words, yeah,” Tack replied. “That.”
“What a tool,” Rush muttered.
“Lawson and Slim gonna get over it?” High asked, having been briefed through murmurs while Tack and Rush were talking.
“Not thinkin’ this is a huge surprise for them. Havin’ it confirmed doesn’t make them happy, but they know what they’re dealing with.” He looked around his brothers. “Now let’s not give Chew what he wants from this. Wasting our time. We got a meet. Everyone’s got their job. We need to roll out.”
Rush turned in order to do that, but he stopped when Hop caught him by the shoulder.
He looked into his brother’s eyes.
He got a squeeze, and that was it.
Hop moved away.
But the minute he did, Hound moved in to do the same thing.
That was when the heat started to drift through Rush.
Hound let go, High moved in.
The old guard done, Shy moved in.
Then Snap.
The same weight landing on his shoulder, the same eye contact.
They knew he was sitting that meet with his father, they knew why, and they were all in.
Rush felt that heat remain, warming him through along with a weird sensation in his throat as he moved to his bike.
Both were sheer beauty.
He swung on his bike. Fired it up.
And then Chaos rolled out.
When they arrived, Ally Nightingale, Hank and Lee’s little sister, was in the conference room of her private investigations offices chatting with Knight, Rhash and Daisy Sloan, Ally’s receptionist, but more importantly on the Denver scene, Marcus Sloan’s wife.
Ally had her feet up on the table, ankles on those long legs crossed, a pair of high-heeled shoes on her feet even the most committed man would feel in his dick, and she was laughing her ass off.
She was older than Rush, taken, as in married with children, but if she wasn’t and there was no Rebel, she’d have been his type (barring the fact she was a brunette) and he’d have gone for a go. Ballsy. Smart. Knew what she wanted. Badass. And she had a heart bigger than Colorado.
The minute his father and Rush walked in, her eyes came to them.
“Have you seen it?” she asked.
“What?” Tack asked back.
“Valenzuela’s sex tape.”
Rush felt donuts grumble in his gut.
“Not yet,” Tack answered.
“It . . . is . . . priceless. I sent a choice snippet to Luke’s phone,” she shared, lifting up her cell in her hand. “He said he’s not talking to me for a year.”
Rush chuckled, though he thought she got off easy. Luke Stark, Lee’s righthand man, seeing that, could have threatened much worse and carried it through.
Knight got up with a smile on his face to shake Tack’s hand, then his eyes came to Rush. He did a thorough scan, read the situation, and the smile was different when he took Rush’s hand.
Rush held his eyes, returned the firm grip and let go.
“Good to see we can hit a meet that’s gonna include Valenzuela with a smile,” Rush muttered.
“Dawn of a new day, my man,” Knight replied.
“Marcus and me made a sex tape,” Daisy shared as she got up, and Tack and Rush shook Rhash’s hand. “Though, that gets out, it’ll make my honey bunches of love even more of a legend.”
That might be true.
Rush still didn’t want to see it.
“Have fun dethroning the pretender,” Daisy bid as she strolled out on her own brand of fuck-me shoes, but hers would be proudly worn by a stripper.
“You guys want coffee?” Ally offered, pulling her heels from the table. “We’ll DoorDash some from Fortnum’s. Tex hates DoorDash. He’ll have something to bitch about. It’ll make his day.”
“Not sure we’ll be here that long,” Tack replied, taking a seat.
Rush took a seat at his side.
Ally got up. “Righty ho then, boys. Have fun.”
And with that, she strutted out.
“You got the tape?” Tack asked Knight when the door closed on her.
“It was messengered this morning to my office,” Knight answered.
“You share it with Ally?” Tack went on, pulling his phone out of his pocket.
“Too good not to share,” Knight replied. “Though that depends on you understanding the various nuances of the words ‘too good.’”
Rush watched his dad’s lips twitch as he hit his screen then put his phone to his ear.
It didn’t take long before he was saying into it, “Red? You’re gonna get a messenger delivery. You can open it, but trust me, you don’t wanna play it.”
He paused, grinned.
Then, “Yeah, baby. Love you too. Later.”
He took the phone from his ear just as a voice came from a box on the table.
“Showtime, badasses,” Daisy said through it.
They all looked out the wall of windows.
Valenzuela came in, looking dapper, his usual, and pissed as fuck, not his usual. They’d gotten mostly smug with healthy sides of superior and asshole for years.
Rush fought breaking out in a huge motherfucking smile.
This was going to be righteous.
But Valenzuela had no man with him.
“No second?” Rush muttered.
“Sixx is meticulous,” his dad muttered back.
Jesus.
Serious respect for that woman.
Daisy made a show of letting Valenzuela in the conference room.
He didn’t even glance at her as he stalked to the table, sat at the head and barely made eye contact with a single man in the room.
“I’m sure you all will be gratified to know I’ll be exploring prospects outside Denver for the foreseeable future,” he declared, now deciding to scowl between the men, as if winning a staring contest would bolster his flattened rep.
He took a lot of time doing this, which was annoying.
Finally, he settled on Tack. “I’m having the paperwork drawn up. You’ll have to sign it and I’ll leave you to deal with the titling agencies. But by the end of the week, my production facilities will be switched into the hands of Ride LLC.”
“Say what?” Tack rumbled.
Valenzuela’s gaze had drifted away, but at Tack’s words he focused on him again. “I’m deeding Luxe Films and Bang Productions to the Chaos MC.”
Tack swung his head to Rush.
Rush shrugged his shoulders.
Tack swung his head back to Valenzuela.
“Wanna tell me why you’re doin’ that?” Tack asked.
“A gesture,” Valenzuela forced through his teeth, “of restitution for any trouble I’ve caused.”
Sixx.
And D.
And Maddox.
Holy fuck.
“Chaos doesn’t wanna get into the porn trade,” Tack told him.
“They’re moneymakers,” Valenzuela shared tightly. “Particularly Luxe.”
“I’ll repeat,” Tack said. “Chaos doesn’t want anything to do with the porn trade.”
“Then don’t produce porn,” Valenzuela spat. “Sell the equipment and the buildings. I don’t care.”
That last was a lie.
He cared a lot.
Fuck, this was totally righteous.
“We don’t want shit to do—” Tack started.
“Dad,” Rush said low.
Tack swung his head back to Rush.
Rush gave him a look that said, Rebel.
And this was about Rebel.
This was about Sixx and D and Maddox giving Rebel a huge fucking present.
“Right,” Tack murmured. Back to Valenzuela. “Lookin’ forward to that paperwork.”
Valenzuela made a move with his head that looked like a spasm.
Rush clenched his jaw to stop from laughing.
Valenzuela moved to stand. “Now I think we’re done.” He dipped his chin. “Gentlemen.”
“A second, Benito,” Knight called.
Valenzuela paused.
“You got a delivery to make. Mamá Nana’s. By noon tomorrow,” Knight told him.
This made Valenzuela look sick to his stomach.
“Consider it done,” he bit out.
“I’ll consider it done when I hand that money to Fury,” Knight replied.
Another head spasm before Valenzuela jerked around, stalked to the door, opened it with more force than was necessary, and they heard Daisy call, “But, Benito. I haven’t popped the popcorn yet for movie time.”
Rush had to hand one thing to the man.
He didn’t miss a step as he disappeared out the door.
Daisy’s distinct laughter that sounded like bells was not drowned out even if the glass door to Ally’s conference room had swung shut.
“Well, that was short, but fun,” Rhash remarked.
Rush shot him a grin.
Tack turned to his son.
“Rebel feelin’ continuing her career in porn?” he asked.
“No,” Rush answered. “But she’s got a script she wants to make. She also wants me to approach the brothers about a documentary she wants to do about the Club.”
Tack’s expression didn’t change on that, except to look faintly curious.
“And she likes her crew,” Rush continued. “I think if she’s got the facilities, she can put them to work. I also think it’s obvious Sixx maneuvered that for her.”
“Need capital to make movies, Rush.”
“Chaos can shut down Bang, sell that space, the equipment and invest, Dad.”
“I’d watch a documentary about Chaos,” Rhash commented as he straightened his big body out of his chair.
“I would too,” Knight said, already up.
Rush and Tack followed suit. More handshakes. Farewells. Then Knight and Rhash took off.
When the outer door closed on them, Hop opened it back up and came in.
Tack gave him a chin jerk and turned again to Rush.
“A documentary about the Club?”
“She’s gonna hang on Chaos while this all goes down so I know she’s safe, but we don’t have to have a man on her to make that so. Her brothers need to get home to their jobs and their woman. And Rebel wants to be up here with me so she doesn’t want to go with them. She’ll film shit when she’s hanging around.”
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