Own the Wind: A Chaos Novel

by Kristen Ashley

  When Shy came back, he didn’t share either but he did say, “He’s close. Lives the life, not the edge of it, he’ll get closer.”

  I decided to leave it at that, since the way Shy said that meant I needed to leave it at that.

  I’d also viewed the bungalow that Shy had scouted for us and, unfortunately, I didn’t like it. Mostly because the bedrooms were too small, it didn’t have a master bath, and I just didn’t like the feel of it because it didn’t have stairs. It didn’t even have a basement.

  I shared this with Shy and he didn’t get pissed.

  He just pulled me to him and said against the top of my hair, “Needs to be right for the both of us, honey.”

  So totally loved my man.

  Even though the first place didn’t work out, I was now on a mission to make Shy a home, so I spent every available minute looking at places online.

  Shy clearly was on the same mission since he came home last week saying he’d scouted two more places. I looked up their pictures on the Internet. They looked awesome, so we didn’t delay in going to see them.

  The bad news was, I loved the first one but Shy hated it, and even at that early juncture, I had begun to despair we wouldn’t find a happy medium.

  The fantastic news was, we both totally dug the second one. It was perfect. So we put an offer in. Shy negotiated like he bought houses for a living, we got a good price, and we put the deposit down.

  All was a go.

  I was totally excited.

  Shy was too, I could tell. It was badass-biker excited but it was still excited.

  I was also excited about Christmas. I loved Christmas, loved it more when I had two little brothers to buy for, and now I had a feeling I was totally going to love giving Christmas to Shy.

  It went without saying that since life wasn’t good at his bitchy aunt’s house, Christmases weren’t much better. So I got to give something for Christmas, not only to Shy but also to Lan, that they hadn’t had in a long time.

  Real, honest-to-goodness family.

  These were my happy thoughts as I settled in my car, and I was about to start her up when my phone rang. I pulled it out of my purse and took the call.

  “Hey, darlin’,” I greeted Shy.

  “Where are you?”

  My stomach dropped.

  He sounded pissed.

  No, strike that, he sounded furious.

  “In my car, ready to drive home,” I told him cautiously. “Is everything okay?”

  “Drive to the Compound, babe,” he ordered, paused a scary pause then finished, “Now,” and hung up.

  I looked at my phone wondering what on earth was happening. He didn’t sound furious as in, furious in general or furious at someone else.

  He sounded furious at me.

  I didn’t get this. Things were good. I hadn’t done anything that I could think of that would make him angry or not that angry. Since the big to-do with Shy and the boys over beating up Dr. Dickhead, all was cool.

  I mean, we did have that conversation about how I really wished he’d put the seat down (and the lid) on the toilet but he’d grinned through that, and since then, only once (yeah, I counted) he left the seat up.

  He listened. He got me. He made an effort. So it couldn’t be that. And anyway, if Shy was that pissed about the toilet seat, then I’d put the danged thing down myself.

  As I started my baby up with shaking hands, my mind moving feverishly, I couldn’t think of anything it could be.

  I drove carefully to the Compound, considering I was freaking and although I wasn’t all fired up to find out how I’d ticked Shy off so royally, I wanted to figure it out and move on.

  I turned into Ride, drove through the forecourt and parked outside the Compound seeing there were a goodly number of bikes there, which was surprising. The boys tended to be busy, out and about, not all of them at the Compound at once unless they had to be. It was like they were having a meeting and instinctively I did not see this as a good sign.

  I also saw a big, black, shiny Ford Explorer.

  Tyra’s car, however, was not to be seen.

  I didn’t take this as a good sign either. Tyra should be at work, unless she was told, for some reason, to clear out.

  I got out of my car and moved toward the Compound, hoping, if Shy had words for me, he’d take me to his room rather than lighting into me in front of the guys. That would only serve to piss me off, and I had a feeling one of us needed to be calm.

  I walked in and saw I was right. The boys were all there.

  All of them.

  I stopped dead when I realized, possibly, though it had to be said I didn’t get it, why Shy was ticked.

  Lee Nightingale was standing in the middle of the room.

  Although I’d had my conversation with Natalie about hiring Lee Nightingale and his team of badasses to find Shy’s parents’ killer and was rethinking things, I still took the meeting mostly because it took so long to get it in the first place, and if I changed my mind back, I didn’t want to wait another six weeks.

  The meeting with Nightingale verified all my worries. Lee Nightingale and his team cost a lot, and not just hourly. They also charged expenses.

  That said, I was there so I sallied forth, gave him my story and his face got kinda scary. He then told me he knew my dad, knew Shy, and he’d “look into shit” (his words). I told him I wasn’t comfortable with him “looking into shit” unless I paid him. So we made a deal. I gave him a retainer which was the totality of my savings, and that wasn’t dinky. I’d been putting money in and not taking it out since Dad took me to the bank to set up my savings account when I was eleven. I’d meant to use it to help set up the house I would share with Jason, which didn’t come about. I then lamented losing it because it would have helped with the down payment on the house I bought with Shy and I would have felt better, doing my part. Alas, by then, it was gone.

  So we made our deal, Lee told me they’d look into shit, keep track of time and expenses, and call me when the money ran out.

  Not surprisingly, since the case was very cold, ages ago he’d called me and told me the money had run out.

  Therefore, I thought it was over. It was disappointing and perhaps a stupid waste of money, but I held onto the fact that I tried to do something important for Shy, something huge, even though it didn’t work out and he’d never know I did it.

  Now, taking in the room, the vibe, all of the angry eyes on me, including Shy’s, I had a feeling he knew.

  I just didn’t understand why Shy, and everyone, was so freaking angry.

  “You forget to tell me somethin’, babe?” Shy asked when I came to an uncertain halt.

  “Uh…” My eyes slid to Lee Nightingale, who looked scary but he kinda was that way normally. He was just one of those men who gave off the vibe you didn’t mess with him. This didn’t take away from the fact that he was tall, dark, built, and seriously hot. He was still scary. My eyes went back to Shy. “Not really.”

  His eyes narrowed on me. “Not really?”

  That was the wrong answer, I could tell.

  “Well, um… no. I mean, obviously you know I hired Lee to, uh… look into things, which, by the way”—I chanced a disapproving look at Nightingale hoping he wouldn’t take offense“—I thought was confidential.”

  “Shit went down, wasn’t on your dime. If you’re not paying, it’s not your case, you’re not my client, so it’s no longer confidential,” Lee explained to me, and that made sense. It sucked with Shy’s present mood but it made sense.

  “You hired him to find that motherfucker,” Shy pushed into our conversation and I looked back at him.

  “Yeah,” I said quietly. “But—”

  “Wound like that never closes, you tear it wider? What the fuck, Tabby?” Shy bit out.

  His words slashed through me.

  That wasn’t what I was trying to do. He had to know that.

  “I thought I was—” I started but didn’t finish.

&nbs
p; “You thought you were what?” Shy clipped, his words harsh, coming from someplace ugly.

  A place he’d clearly been keeping locked down and I’d inadvertently opened.

  God, why hadn’t I listened to Natalie when she told me not to hire Lee Nightingale?

  I had to go into damage control. I just had no clue how.

  Still, I had to try.

  “I… you…” I looked around then back at Shy, knowing what I had to say, needing to tell him what he exposed when he talked about his family and thinking he wouldn’t want an audience. So I asked, “Can we talk about this somewhere else?”

  “No, darlin’, you talk about this shit here,” Dad growled, and I turned surprised eyes to him to see he looked just as angry as he sounded. “After Shy gets what he needs outta you, I’ll be askin’ some questions about why you took shit like this outside the family.”

  What?

  “I—” I started.

  “Tabby, eyes to me,” Shy ordered tersely and when I looked back at him, he repeated, “What the fuck?”

  “You talked about them,” I explained.

  “Yeah. So?” he clipped.

  I studied him wondering how this had turned so bad.

  Then I tried, “You… you were doing a lot for me. I wanted to do something for you.”

  “So you fuck me up?” he asked and I flinched.

  It took a lot but I recovered and pointed out carefully, “Obviously, I didn’t think I was doing that, Shy. I thought I was giving you closure.”

  “Well, you didn’t think right, sugar. You didn’t give me closure, you reopened a nightmare,” Shy fired back.

  “How?” I whispered and looked around. “How?” I repeated then I looked at Lee. “What’s going on?”

  “We found him,” Lee told me.

  Oh my God!

  “Seriously?” I whispered.

  “Seriously,” he didn’t whisper.

  “You’re sure?” I pushed.

  “Absolutely,” he stated firmly.

  “I see you’re not gettin’ this, darlin’,” Dad put in at this point and his voice was now gruff but gentle. He was also angry at me, but he saw I didn’t understand why so at least he was giving me a break. “Nightingale’s got this guy in his holding room and now he has a difficult decision to make ’cause he knows we got a job to do. We also got a relationship with Nightingale and his team. If we don’t agree on what goes down now, there’ll be friction. We try to avoid friction. But there’s only one thing that can go down now, so if we can’t negotiate with Nightingale, we got a problem.”

  I didn’t get it.

  Then I got it.

  Just like Natalie said, the Club wanted this guy so Shy’s loss could be avenged, and Lee Nightingale knew it and he might not be hip to being involved, even on the periphery, of what they had planned.

  “This is not a we,” Shy declared, his furious gaze now on Dad. “This is a me.”

  “Brother, this is a we,” Dad told him.

  “Was,” Shy spat the word out. “If this shit happened a coupla months ago. Now this is mine.” Dad’s brows snapped together, but it was Hop who spoke.

  “This is not somethin’ a brother does alone.”

  Shy looked to him. “Yeah it is. This is about me. My family. I deal.”

  “You got another family now,” Dog put in.

  “I do?” Shy asked and my heart sank. “Didn’t feel that way when you all made your call about Tabby.”

  Oh God! There it was.

  Something bad was getting worse. I knew that by Shy’s words, the tightening of the mouths of some of the men and others looking away and shuffling their motorcycle-booted feet.

  Shy looked to Lee. “You turn him over to me.”

  Okay, there it was again. Now it was even worse!

  “Authorities would make him pay longer, Cage,” Lee said quietly.

  “Authorities didn’t get their mom and dad popped. You turn him over to me,” Shy shot back.

  “Shy—” I started and his eyes sliced to me.

  “Quiet, Tabby, we’ll have our words later.”

  Okay, and now it was even worse.

  I decided the best thing to do at that juncture was shut up, so I did.

  Shy looked to Lee. “You turn him over to me. Whatever happens, whatever blowback, it’s on me. Not you, and this does not have fuck all to do with Chaos.”

  I turned pleading eyes to Dad, but Dad had his eyes locked on Dog. Then he moved his gaze to Lee.

  It was then Lee said to Shy, “Don’t make a mess.”

  Oh God, God, God!

  Worse!

  Shy jerked up his chin.

  “Usual Chaos drop-off, bring him there. I’ll be waiting,” Shy ordered.

  Usual Chaos drop-off?

  Yikes!

  I didn’t have a chance to process the scariness of that. Shy shifted, his eyes moved through me, through the brothers, all of this like we weren’t even there and he prowled out of the Compound.

  I will repeat: his eyes moved through me.

  Never, not once, not even back in the day when I had a crush on him and he was too old for me, did Shy make me feel invisible.

  Never.

  My feet moved to launch me toward Shy, but I didn’t even get a step in before Dad’s hand locked on my arm.

  I tipped my eyes up to look at him.

  “Go home, darlin’, wait it out. It’ll be okay,” he said softly.

  “I think he’s going to—”

  Dad’s face dipped close, his eyes were dark, intense, he was feeling a lot of things but still his gaze was somehow gentle on me, and he reiterated, “Go home, Tabby. I got this. The brothers have this. It’ll all be okay.” He held my eyes and when I licked my lip he whispered, “Tab, trust me.”

  “I don’t want to be visiting him in the penitentiary,” I whispered back.

  “You won’t,” Dad told me.

  “You either,” I went on.

  “You won’t be doin’ that either,” Dad assured me.

  “Or anyone,” I carried on.

  Dad’s look, still gentle, flashed with impatience. “Tabby, honey, your message is clear. I get you but we got this. Do you think we don’t got this?”

  I held his eyes.

  Then I nodded.

  He had this.

  I hoped.

  “Okay, Dad.”

  “Got shit to do, darlin’. Go home.” His fingers tightened on my arm, they didn’t hurt but they sent a message. “Your man will be home tonight.”

  I stared up at Dad and read it in his eyes.

  My man would be home that night. What would happen when he got there was up to me, but my dad and his brothers were going to get him back to me.

  I nodded.

  He held my eyes before he said, “I see your play and it was filled with beauty. But, darlin’, I’ll say this once, we won’t go over this ground again. Shit like this is kept in the family.”

  I got him. Boy, did I get him.

  Luckily, there was only one man who murdered Shy’s parents and thus messed up his life, so this wouldn’t happen again.

  “You won’t have to say it again, Dad,” I assured him.

  “That’s my girl,” he muttered then used my arm to start propelling me to the door. “Now, get home.”

  I looked through the guys. They were moving, shifting, huddling.

  Planning.

  They had this.

  I looked up at Dad. “Love you,” I whispered.

  “Same,” he rumbled.

  I smiled and it was shaky.

  Dad didn’t smile, he jerked up his chin.

  I took in a deep breath and got the heck out of there.

  * * *

  Tack

  The Harleys roared around them as Lee Nightingale and Kane “Tack” Allen stood close next to Lee’s Explorer.

  “Not stupid, man,” Tack said, his eyes locked to Nightingale’s.

  “Know that, Tack,” Lee replied.

 
“You still got my girl’s money?” Tack asked, and Nightingale jerked up his chin.

  “Every penny.”

  “You gonna pay that back or hold it?” Tack queried.

  “Your call,” Nightingale answered.

  Tack studied him then remarked, “You told my girl you stopped lookin’ but you never stopped lookin’.”

  Nightingale’s face went hard. “Man loses his family, he should know who took them from him.”

  It was Tack’s turn to jerk up his chin. “Do as he said. Take him to the drop-off. You won’t see any brothers but we’ll be close.”

  Nightingale nodded.

  Then he asked, “My team delivers him, we’re clear of this. Our part in this didn’t happen. Can you assure me of that?”

  “Absolutely,” Tack confirmed.

  Nightingale nodded again.

  “Chaos marker,” Tack offered.

  “That’ll do,” Nightingale accepted. “I’ll return the money to you.”

  This time, Tack nodded.

  Negotiations over.

  Deal struck.

  Lee Nightingale swung up into his truck.

  Tack prowled to his bike, threw a leg over, made it roar, then he headed out to take his brother’s back.

  Chapter Eighteen

  Breaking the Circle

  “Did she beg for her life?”

  “Man, I got clean.”

  “Did he?”

  Shy Cage was sitting on his ass on the dirt floor of a shed in the foothills. He had his knees up, his elbows on his knees, his blade hanging from his fingers. His knuckles were split, torn and bloody.

  The man in front of him, wrists behind him held together with plastic restraints, had fallen to his side. His position was awkward seeing as his feet were also bound together at the ankles. His face was mangled and bloody. Eyes nearly swollen shut. Blood was oozing from an ear.

  At Shy’s question, the man didn’t answer. He simply moaned.

  Shy kept questioning.