Another moist noise from Monk, this full of fear as he tried to pull away.
Joker shook him viciously then held him still and stated, “Valenzuela does not rule this fight, and he doesn’t ’cause you had me fightin’. He’s not ready for his round with Chaos, so he’s steered clear. Now, he’s gonna get word there is no Chaos at this fight. What’s that gonna mean for you?”
Another noise of fear before, “Do-don’t, Joke, he—”
Joker cut him off, “You ran your mouth. I gave you a chance to take that shit back. You didn’t. Now you pay.”
“I-I’ll give a c-cut to Chaos,” Monk offered quickly. “Buy peace.”
“I’ll share that with Tack. He gets finished eatin’ his woman’s pussy, brings that to the Club, we’ll get back to you,” Joker bit out, reared back, and landed a powerhouse punch that had worked for him numerous times in the past.
A man like Monk, it destroyed him.
And his now-fractured cheekbone.
He was out.
Joker dropped him and straightened, turning to Rush, who was speaking to Monk’s only man left standing.
“We didn’t make our statement and you consider payback, think again. You don’t come up with the right answer and we see you when we don’t wanna see you, shit’s gonna get ugly.”
The guy looked around at the four men on the floor, only one of whom was groaning and trying to push up, two had stab wounds from Hound’s knife and were groaning, but not trying to push up, and it didn’t take a mind reader to know he considered shit already ugly.
Their message conveyed, Roscoe stated, “Let’s ride.”
They all moved out, and even though the crowd had pressed close, they didn’t waste time getting the fuck out of the way.
They were at their bikes when Joker looked to Boz. “You want me to call this in to Tack?”
“I’m on it,” Boz answered.
Joker nodded.
They mounted.
Then Chaos rode.
Tack
In the dark, Tack sat on the side of his and Red’s bed, talking into his phone.
“No. All good. But I want the brothers gathered in the morning.”
“You got it, man,” Boz replied. “Later.”
“Yeah, later,” Tack said, took his phone from his ear, hit the button, and tossed it on his nightstand.
Then he slid the fingers of one hand through his hair, followed instantly by the other hand, and he left both at the back of his neck while he rested his elbows to his knees.
Chaos is pussy.
That could not stand.
He felt Tyra slide her hand from the small of his back up his spine before he felt her position, on her knees, those knees spread, the insides of her thighs pressed to his hips. He felt her front hit his back as her lips touched his hands at his neck.
“Talk to me,” she whispered. “Is everything okay?”
“Yeah,” he replied and it was no lie.
It was.
For now.
His brothers sent a message. The right one. And they didn’t fuck around doing it.
But it wasn’t enough.
It was time.
And he fucking hated it.
Tomorrow, they’d go over what happened, what was said, what was done, and what they’d be doing.
Tack’s new message would be to anyone else who thought that shit.
It would also be to Valenzuela.
Chaos was claiming more territory. They were going to clean it up. They were going to keep it safe.
Once the Club voted, no longer would Chaos be five miles around Ride.
It would be ten.
Valenzuela held firm positions to the north, east, and west.
He would retaliate.
But it was time.
The Club would meet, then Tack would sit with Hawk, Brock, and Mitch. Mitch was going to lose his mind. Lawson wasn’t a straight arrow, but he was as straight as they came. Tack and Brock were working this to bring an end to Valenzuela that would not mean blood but would mean jail time, dismantling Valenzuela’s operations in a way it would decimate him.
But that shit took time.
Too much time, apparently.
“Kane, you’re kinda scaring me.”
He lifted and twisted, dropping his hands and curling his fingers around her thigh.
“Boys had some trouble tonight, they neutralized it. Not happy about the trouble they had, but they took care of business,” he told her. “But, Red, you gotta know, something’s comin’. There was never any way to stop it, but the time has come for us to stroll out to face it. And what’s comin’, you gotta brace.”
“Baby,” she whispered, sliding a hand around his side to his stomach.
“It’ll all be good,” he promised.
“I know it will,” she replied.
Zero hesitation.
Just, I know it will.
That was wife. The mother of two of his sons.
His dream woman.
He tipped his head back and he didn’t need to do more. She gave him her mouth.
He twisted further to take her to her back on their bed.
Then she gave him everything else.
Chapter Thirteen
That Hasn't Changed
Carissa
I SAT ON a barstool at the Chaos Compound, wondering how I was remaining seated seeing as I was so exhausted I could barely think¸ when Tack strolled in.
As usual, his eyes went right to Tyra, who had commandeered Lanie and Hop’s baby boy, Nash, and was bouncing him, cuddling him and cooing to him.
“Jesus, woman, every baby that gets within ten feet a’ you you claim. Do I gotta knock you up again?” Tack asked her.
She gave him eyes that were easy to read.
Tack read them. I knew this when he looked to the ceiling and muttered, “Fuck me. This rate, I’ll live in a kid-free zone when I’m eighty.”
“Like you don’t love it,” Tyra returned.
Tack took his eyes from the ceiling and gave them to his wife.
He, too, was easy to read.
He loved it. But he loved more giving her what she wanted.
I started to feel warm just watching them together as Tack looked to the bar and asked, “What the fuck?”
“Carissa cleared out the day-olds at LeLane’s bakery,” Lanie said, a half-eaten cream puff suspended three inches from her mouth. “And everyone knows day-olds at LeLane’s are better than fresh everywhere else.”
This was true.
As much as my Chaos friends said I didn’t need to do anything for payback, I still needed to do something for payback.
And today was moving in day so I really needed to do something for payback.
Tack and Tyra’s renters were out a few days early so the boys were going to get my stuff out of the storage unit and my apartment.