“On my truck and bike, yeah. Otherwise, no.”
“I can see this,” she said to the taco meat.
He grinned at her profile then looked back to the TV.
“You deserve better.”
That comment bought her his eyes again.
“I dig why you live in this place and don’t want to bother moving, babe,” she went on. “But I hate that you come home to a pit. You deserve better.”
Christ, he loved her.
It would never have entered his mind in the years since he’d taken that fall that she could get more of that from him.
But having her like he did now, she totally did.
“What were your favorites, baby?” he asked quietly.
She didn’t hesitate to answer. “That black leather sectional. The barstools that the base is made out of a crankshaft. And that leather studded headboard.”
He remembered all those pictures.
Vaguely.
And from what he remembered, if she outfitted his crib like that, it was going to look like the Harley-Davidson furniture god puked all over the place.
But if she liked it, he didn’t give a shit.
“I give you the cash, you go get it. Let me know when it’s gonna be delivered. I’ll get Dutch and Chill over here and we’ll cart this shit to the dump.”
Her eyes were big. “Really?”
“Yup.”
“All of it?”
“Whatever you want, but make sure you get new mattresses too, Keekee. Mine suck. And think on that headboard, ’cause if I remember what you’re talkin’ about, I can’t tie you to it.”
Her face screwed up with fake irritation. “Don’t make me hot when I’m making tacos.”
“You know I’ll fuck you tough after you feed me so don’t bitch I make you wet before you do.”
She turned the stove down and came to look at him from over the bar. “You need end tables too.”
“Whatever,” he muttered, turning back to the TV.
“And new nightstands and a dresser and new lamps, like, everywhere.”
“I got stacks of cash in the safe in my room at the Compound. Tell me how much you need. I’ll have it here tomorrow night and give it to you.”
“I have carte blanche?”
He again looked to her. “You think I’ll like it, I’ll probably like it. More likely I won’t notice it unless it’s uncomfortable, goofy, girlie or preppy. I reckon you know to avoid any a’ that shit so, yeah. You got carte blanche.”
“I’m taking tomorrow off and going shopping,” she declared.
He grinned, turning his head back to the TV, repeating, “Whatever.”
“You wanna come with me?”
That slashed through him like a blade through his heart.
Slowly, he looked again to her.
“Babe,” he said quietly.
“Is that . . .” She weirdly had to take a moment to get her shit together. “Is that a ‘babe’ no way in hell I’m going shopping or a ‘babe’ you don’t want to be seen out in public with me? Because I’m pretty sure no Chaos brother is gonna be at furniture stores.”
“Their old ladies might.”
“So it’s you don’t wanna be seen out in public with me.”
Why was she asking this shit?
If it was up to him, he’d be out in public with her, she’d be on the back of his bike, he’d fuck her in his bed at the Compound, she’d be deep in his life every way he could get her.
But it wasn’t up to him. It wasn’t something she could give him the way he was guessing she knew he wanted it, so it wasn’t something he could have and she knew that shit, so why the fuck was she going there and dragging him with her?
He turned in the couch to face her, trying not to get pissed. “Keekee—”
“It’s not like we don’t know each other, Shep.”
This was true.
“If on the extreme off chance we run into someone remotely associated with Chaos,” she continued, “we can say you needed new mattresses or whatever and since you don’t give a shit about that, asked me to help out or just were there to hand off the cash. But since it’s not gonna happen, who gives a shit?”
“Honest as fuck, babe, it’s mostly because I don’t wanna go furniture shopping so you getting wound up about this is pointless.”
She looked to the wall.
He needed to guide them out of this, for both of them.
“Is the food ready?” he asked.
She looked back to him.
“Yeah,” she snapped.
“Are you gonna be pissed while we eat it even though I’m gonna hand over thousands of dollars in cash to you tomorrow that you can spend decorating my ratty-ass apartment for me?”
She tried to hold on to the pissed but couldn’t do it.
Still, she verbally stuck to it, but without the sting, and bit out a, “Yeah.”
He got up and moved toward the kitchen, “Then tonight’s a spanking night, baby. You got a sting in your ass and my cock up your cunt, no way you can stay pissed.”
“I told you, Hound, don’t turn me on when you’re not imminently gonna do something about it, and I’ll add, don’t turn me on when I’m mad at you.”
He caught her at the waist and dragged her up against him, clamping his other arm around her, and taking her mouth in a wet kiss.
He lifted his head and stared in her eyes.
“Still pissed?” he asked.
“No,” she answered.
“Good. But you’re still getting a spanking,” he told her.
At that, she smiled.
With his body hidden, Hound leaned against the corner of the building and watched Camilla Turnbull come out of another building down and across the street.
She was covered in Valenzuela soldiers, four right on her, one at the car they were escorting her to, one down the street keeping an eye on things, and then there was the driver.
Camilla Turnbull was Valenzuela’s snatch.
She also ran his girls and her name was listed as executive producer on all his porn video credits.
Her man had disappeared but Hound was finding she was everywhere.
He was also getting a funny feeling about that. About two of Valenzuela’s boys fucking up and taking Millie, one of them clocking her, then both of them getting dead. The hits his soldiers took, Millie had witnessed. But by the time the cops got to anyone to ask for statements, a man not the man who did it came forward to confess to the killings and no witness had seen Valenzuela anywhere near the scene.
Not to mention Turnbull gave him an alibi.
But that colossal fuckup happened, Valenzuela was now gone, she’d stepped up and this surprised Hound.
She had her place in Valenzuela’s operation and that place had always been firm. Valenzuela made it very clear how he felt about gash. He fucked it and he used it to keep his girls in line and his production facilities cranking out bad sex tapes.
Now she was coming out of Valenzuela’s swank apartment complex with a shit ton of bodyguards looking like she not only owned a pad there but the entire building and every one on the block.
Topping that, the woman was young. Hound didn’t know how young but he’d put money she wasn’t even out of her twenties.
Too young to be doing all she was doing—not that anyone should ever be doing anything she was doing—and way too young to be heading an operation the size of Valenzuela’s.
It could be Valenzuela was laying low knowing Chaos would lose their shit after Millie was taken. He was hoping in that time they’d cool off (they would not) and he was concerned they’d seek retribution using his woman to do it (they would not do that either, or Chaos wouldn’t, Hound would consider it), so he put extra men on her in the meantime.
But he would not ever put her in charge. And although Valenzuela seriously compartmentalized his operations and was never the direct line of communication to any of his people, Turnbull was proving she felt like being more
hands-on with things, and the impression she was giving Hound, because he was watching, was that she was running the show.
So yeah, Hound had a funny feeling about this, not only because that didn’t sit right but because she had been such a minor player, he didn’t know dick about her.
She got in the car with one of Valenzuela’s goons holding the door open for her. Hound turned from the edge of the building he was leaning against and walked the other direction, down the block where he’d parked his truck around the corner.
He did this pulling out his phone and making a call.
“Hound,” Knight Sebring answered.
Knight Sebring owned the hottest nightclub in Denver.
He also had a side business he took very seriously, which meant he was in the know about a lot of things.
Those things being pretty much everything happening underground in Denver.
“Sebring,” Hound replied. “Got some time?”
“Yeah,” Sebring said.
“You know Camilla Turnbull?” Hound asked.
“No,” Sebring answered. “Of her, yes. Know her to her face, no. But recently we’ve been getting acquainted.”
That was interesting but it didn’t make Hound feel any better.
He started with the first part. “What do you know of her?”
“She’s a cunt. She’s got a wicked backhand and I don’t mean tennis. If a girl is producing, whatever way she uses her, and that girl wants to cut ties, she doesn’t let her go and has nasty ways of keeping her girls under her thumb. And I wouldn’t mind Denver saw the back of her in a permanent way.”
“That’s it?” Hound pressed.
“Outside of me havin’ a couple of phone calls with her recently to share how I feel about how she runs her girls and her pretty much tellin’ me she doesn’t give a shit, yeah.”
Hound stared at his truck as he turned the next corner and walked to it, not liking this.
Not many people would mess with Knight Sebring. If he told you he wasn’t feeling good about what you were doing, the way he rolled, there weren’t a lot of people who wouldn’t ask for a written list of what he’d like changed in order of priority so they could tick it off as they went down the line.
“So Valenzuela thinks he’s untouchable and that’s rubbed off on his snatch,” Hound muttered.
“That was my take,” Sebring replied.
“And where are you with that?”
“Getting impatient for Chaos to make a move so I don’t jack your play,” Sebring told him.
Hound opened the door to his truck, swinging in, sharing, “Valenzuela’s been proving slippery since his soldiers took an old lady.”
“I know. Heard he’s on vacation.”
“He must need a lot of rest because it’s been a long one and just to say, you got snatch, you take it on vacation with you. You don’t leave it behind to look after your shit.”
Sebring didn’t hide his surprise when he asked, “Turnbull is looking after Valenzuela’s operations?”
“Can’t say for sure but she’s no longer in the director’s chair on the porn set and instead out on the street givin’ a lot of facetime to his lieutenants. That started slow, but as time wears on she’s out more and more doin’ it.”
“Takeover?” Sebring asked, still sounding surprised.
“I don’t know,” Hound replied, scanning the street, sidewalk and his mirrors. “Been putting time and effort in to getting someone to share, but they’re bein’ stingy with the information.”
“Yeah.” Now Sebring sounded amused. “Heard about that bad fall one of his soldiers took down the stairs. How long was he in the hospital? Three weeks?”
“Freaky how he didn’t hit a landing and stop, just kept rollin’ down flight after flight.”
He heard Sebring chuckle before he asked, “And that brought nothing?”
“Nope.”
“You know I’m in on this with you boys and I’ve heard dick, Hound. But just to say, I mentioned being impatient and I’d take that to Tack. I’m good to sit down for a meet. But the way she’s runnin’ her stable has to stop. I was done months ago. So now you could say I’m really done.”
“Word, man. I’ll share with Tack and he’ll be in touch.”
“Cool. That all you need from me?”
“For now. Thanks and later.”
“Later, Hound.”
They disconnected, Hound shoved his phone in his back pocket and looked at the street.
It had now been three months since Millie had been taken.
And no Valenzuela.
But a lot of Camilla Turnbull.
Maybe he’d been asking the people he’d been asking the wrong questions.
Maybe he needed to start asking about Camilla Turnbull.
“So? What do you think?”
Hound was naked on his back in his bed and Keely was naked on all fours over him, a hand on each side, a knee on each side, bouncing on his new mattress that was delivered that day.
It had been three days since they’d had the conversation about furniture.
And now his place was gutted, all his shit he and the recruits had taken to the dump, because it was Friday and the rest of the deliveries were going to start coming tomorrow.
The mattresses were boss.
Keely bouncing on all fours naked over him was fucking inspirational.
“It works,” he said through a smile.
“It works? It’s da freakin’ bomb diggity bomb bomb.”
He started laughing, wrapped his arms around her and pulled her down to him.
She didn’t fight it and settled in.
“You’re a nut,” he muttered when he got her close, still smiling.
She grinned at him then stated, “Speaking of nuts, you need to kick Boz in them.”
He lifted his brows. “What did Boz do?”
“It’s what he’s not doing,” she informed him. “If he doesn’t get his head out of his ass about winning Bev back, she’s going to settle for this new man she’s seeing and that would be bad.”
“Babe—” he started, giving her a squeeze with his arms.
“I know, I know, I know,” she cut him off, waving a hand between their faces. “The brotherhood vow of not sticking your nose in. But seriously, this guy she’s seeing . . .”
She made a face.
It was a funny face but he didn’t like it.
“This guy fuckin’ with her?” he asked, his tone having a bite.
Keely got serious and melted into him.
“No, baby,” she said quietly. “It’s not like he’s hitting her or stepping out on her or anything. I haven’t met him yet and she doesn’t really say a lot about him but I still know he’s not the guy for her.”
“How do you know that?”
“Well, we don’t have all night so I’ll run down the highlights. He’s got a small dick.”
Hound gave her his slow blink.
“Say again?”
“Thumbeleen-oh,” she stated.
Hound’s body started shaking.
“Now, I wouldn’t know because I’ve been lucky in life and have never seen a small dick, but I would guess if you aren’t exactly endowed you’d make up for that by acquiring other skills.”
His word was shaking too when he asked, “No?”
She shook her head. “Bumbeleen-oh.”
The bed started shaking with Hound’s silent laughter.
“He’s like, well, she says he sells insurance so my guess is he’s probably kinda a wimp too,” she continued. “I mean, nothing wrong with that if that’s your gig, but it isn’t Bev’s. She’s seen some good ones since Boz, but it has to be the right mixture, the perfect balance, and they’ve always got too much of the bad parts.”
Now he was confused. “What’re you talking about?”
“The bad boy,” she told him. “The alpha. The biker. She goes for a hint of goof because Boz had that and it was cute, if you’re into that kind of thing,
which I’m not, but she is so it worked for them. But, you know, the badass, half a step up from caveman has to be tempered.”
Since she was lying on top of him, meaning spending time with him, so he was catching her drift and he didn’t know whether to start laughing again or start getting ticked.
“Half a step up from caveman?” he asked.
“Shep, honey, you drink beer with brookies.”
“That makes me half a step up from caveman?”
“And your pans are made of tin and the last time they were used was by hobos displaced in Oklahoma during the dust bowl crisis.”
That settled it.
He started laughing again.
“And it can’t be lost on you that you have a dominant personality,” she went on.
No, that wasn’t lost on him.
“For a woman who is not a pushover, this could go bad if things aren’t balanced the other way,” she declared.
“And what’s the other way?”
“If her man isn’t protective, like you. And thoughtful, like you. And sweet, like you. And funny, like you. And especially if he doesn’t have a gorgeous cock and knows how to use it, like you do.”
Hound now wasn’t finding anything amusing.
He was finding it something a lot better.
“You think I’m all that shit?”
“Babe, the first bite you take of food I make you, every time you give me a look that tells me how much you like it that immediately makes it worth the effort of buying the food and cooking it for you.”
“Just to say, not to take anything away from the food you cook for me, which I like and appreciate you make that effort, but before you started doin’ that, Keekee, all I ate was fast food so pretty much anything would be better.”
“I’m sure, but that doesn’t matter. What matters is that you don’t act like you expect me to serve up good food as your due because you have a penis. Like you said, you appreciate it and you make that known. That’s the difference. Now I can continue to blow sunshine up your ass but that would not be me talking you into having a word with Boz about getting his head out of his ass.”
“Keely, it sucks Bev is gonna settle for this guy but it isn’t my business, or yours, and since they split years ago, it isn’t Boz’s.”
“And from what you know about their split, he doesn’t care Bev moves on?”
Wild Like the Wind (Chaos Book 6) Page 12
