Fire Inside:A Chaos Novel(122)

Benito grinned.

Tack turned his eyes to Hop and shook his head.

Then he moved to exit while ordering, “Chaos, mount up.”

The brothers moved out.

Tack tagged Shy and Hop on their way to the bikes. “Meet. Early. I’m callin’ in the boys.”

Hop jerked his chin up. He knew what Tack meant. He wasn’t wasting time calling in reinforcements, and by that he meant Hawk Delgado, Brock Lucas, and Mitch Lawson.

Commandos and cops.

Benito should have listened.

After years undercover with the DEA, Brock Lucas knew the bowels of Denver like the back of his hand. Living with filth, to survive, he’d learned to embrace the wild inside. He might be married to a pretty baker who made unbelievably good cupcakes, and they were raising two boys, but he was still good with getting in touch with his wild side.

Mitch Lawson had proved without doubt that no matter how clean a cop he was, he had Chaos’s back. He was cautious but far from dumb, and willing to go the distance, therefore a worthy ally and a surprisingly scary adversary.

And it was debatable but Hawk Delgado might be a functioning lunatic. But he got the job done, no matter how nasty that job might be. He didn’t mind mess while doing it and he had an army of commandos at his back. He paid them well, but he earned their loyalty another way and every one of them would lay down their lives for their leader.

Tack’s eyes locked on Shy. “You and me now, to Baldy.”

Shy nodded.

Baldy was a biker and a doctor. He would be in a Club if he had the time. Seeing as he took cash for his services and the underbelly of Denver found themselves in need of a physician more than occasionally, he didn’t have the time.

Shy gave Hop a handshake then headed to his bike.

Hop waylaid Tack.

“He touches family, brother, you won’t get your chance to skin him,” Hop warned. “Lanie never again feels fear. Not like that.”

“I think he got that message,” Tack replied.

“Hope he did, Tack. Swear to Christ, he didn’t—”

Tack lifted a hand and curled his fingers around Hop’s shoulder. “Calm. Patience. Natalie wasn’t Chaos until we claimed her, so he isn’t wrong to be pissed. We’ll pay the money which is all he cares about, he’ll fall back and when he strikes, it won’t be courting Armageddon. He’s greedy but he’s not stupid.”

Hop stared into his brother’s eyes. Then he did what he always did and he had never been wrong. He trusted his friend, nodded, and moved to his bike.

He had a text with the details on the meet by the time he pulled into his drive.

When he slid back into bed with his wife, she was still out.

He curled into her, pulling her close, splaying his hand on her still-flat stomach, and he pulled in a deep breath.

Smelling Lanie’s perfume, he relaxed when he let it out.

Three hours later, he woke up, rolled carefully away from his still-sleeping woman, got dressed, and headed back out.

* * *

“Lanie,” Hop muttered, using her name to tell his brothers it was time to get back to their women.

Tack turned and nodded to Hop.

“Right,” he said. “Later, brothers. Have a mind, it’s early, he won’t move this quick, but watch your backs.”

Hop nodded. Shy did too.

They swung on their bikes and roared off. They’d just had a meet with “the boys”: Tack and his two lieutenants, Hop and Shy, as well as Hawk Delgado, Mitch Lawson, and Brock Lucas. War was declared. Reinforcements had been called. They were all in.

The meeting was tense, as it would be.

Now they waited.

As they rode away, Hop shouted, “Yo!” and Shy turned his head to look at his brother.

Hop jerked his head to the side. They both rode to the shoulder, stopped, put their feet down, and Hop looked back through the buildings from where they’d come.

Tack was standing there, motionless.

He was worried.

Hop closed his eyes.

When he opened them, Hop looked to Shy to see Shy looking back at Tack.

Then Shy’s gaze came to him. “My guess, four hours ago, on a scale of one to ten of how bad this shit is, I would have said eleven. Now, I’m guessin’ twenty-three.”

“We may be at twenty-five,” Hop corrected.

Shy’s lips twitched.

This was his brother, Shy Cage. He’d never been to war but he still showed no fear.

Hop looked back to Tack to see he was moving to his bike.

“Brace, brother,” Hop advised, then said, “Let’s ride.”

Shy jerked up his chin, they put on the gas, and they rode.

* * *

“Jesus, what is this?” Hop asked as he walked into the kitchen to see his woman in an un-fucking-believably amazing pair of knit yoga pants that were loose in the right places but clung to better places, and a casual wraparound top that just clung to the right places, in other words every inch of her torso. Her hair was in a messy knot on top her head. Her face had no makeup.