“Yeah, I did. I called you a cunt, you cunt,” Naomi leered. “Tryin’ to take my kids from me. I got the papers,” she snapped.
“I got her, one ‘a you get Cherry,” Hop ordered and I felt a strong arm wrap around my chest from behind.
“Stand down, sweetheart.” I heard Brick say in my ear.
I stood still in his arm but didn’t take my eyes off Naomi. “You have a situation with Tack, you talk to Tack about it. You do not come to my office, shrieking, making a scene and calling me filthy names.”
She stopped and was leaning into Hop’s hand at her chest. “Oh yeah? I do, what’re you gonna do about it?”
What were we? In third grade?
Okay, I’d play.
“You don’t want to find out,” I warned.
“You can’t take me,” she declared derisively.
“You’re probably right,” I agreed. “But I’d sure as hell have fun with the licks I got in.”
She lifted her hands. “Yeah? Bring it on… cunt.”
“Stop calling me that!” I snapped.
“Cunt!” she screeched and that was it.
And what it was it wasn’t Arctic Tyra.
No.
Lady Dragon got poked with a stick and she… was… pissed.
Therefore I tore free from Brick’s arm and ran the five feet to Naomi. Launching myself by Hop and clearly surprising all holy hell out of Naomi, I took a flying leap and tackled her to the tarmac. We landed with a bone-jarring thud, hers worse because she was under me and the breath went out of her which was good for me. I was able to semi-straddle her (my skirt impeded a full straddle) and get in a good solid smack right across her face before Hop yanked me off and pulled me, kicking and hissing, away. Lenny, the body shop guy, got in between a scrambling to her feet Naomi and me as did Brick and Boz.
“You bitch!” she shrieked, barreling toward me but the boys closed ranks and she ran into them.
“I have more where that came from, Naomi!” I shouted my taunt, struggling against Hop’s hold.
“Bitch!” I heard.
“Fuckin’ stop, both ‘a you.”
This came from our sides. I stopped struggling against Hop’s hold and my head turned to see Dog standing there, his arms crossed on his chest but his eyes were aimed in Naomi’s direction.
“Take a second, woman, look around you. What do you see?” He waited a second, apparently letting her do that and apparently she did it because no sound came from her though I couldn’t see so I didn’t know. Then Dog went on, “You fucked Tack over means you fucked us all over. You do not get to come here and do this shit. Clue the fuck in, Naomi. You’re out. This can only go one way and you were around long enough to know which way it’s gonna go. Advice. Be smart, settle your ass down and wait to talk to Tack when he gets here. You don’t, it’s gonna go the way you know it’s gonna go.”
“This is none of your business,” I heard her hiss.
“You’re on Chaos, bitch.” I heard and my neck twisted to see Arlo standing a few feet behind Dog. “You know that shit ain’t right.”
Something must have given because Lenny, Brick and Boz stood down by moving away and I saw Naomi glaring at Arlo but although it seemed the situation had defused, Arlo wasn’t done.
“Tack’s call, ‘cause you’re the mother of his kids, he decides not to ban you, we’ll honor that. But you ever come on Chaos again and talk with that mouth to Cherry, you pushed out Rush and Tab or not, you’ll never come back. You get me?”
I was feeling love for Arlo and Naomi was saved from having to answer when the roar of Harleys could be heard. Three, to be exact (yes, that was how good I was getting at deciphering the noise of the pipes). And moments later we saw Tack, Hound and High roll in.
I relaxed against Hop but he didn’t let me go.
Tack and the boys stopped their bikes about ten feet away from Naomi and got off. Tack’s shades hit me and I saw them do a sweep as he walked wide to Naomi’s side.
Then he asked what appeared to be no on in particular, “There a reason why my woman’s knees are bleedin’?”
My knees were bleeding?
I looked down over Hop’s arm, stuck a foot out and put it back.
Yep, my knees were bleeding.
“That’d be because she tackled Naomi,” Dog offered then finished, “Justified.”
“Yeah,” Tack replied, his shades moving to Naomi, “heard that shit over the phone.”
I watched Naomi’s back go straight then I watched her spit at Tack, “Got the papers.”
“You don’t say?” Tack asked and I bit back my giggle but Hop didn’t. His chuckle wasn’t audible but I felt his body move with it.
“I say, asshole!” she snapped.
To this, Tack strangely responded, “Fifty thousand.”
Naomi’s body went still and, incidentally, so did mine.
“For each,” Tack finished.
What?
“A hundred,” she shot back and my body went solid as a rock.
Was she…?
Was she…?
Was she selling the custody of her children?
“Fifty, be happy for it. You know I’ll win in court,” Tack told her.
“I don’t know it,” she fired back.
“You know it,” he stated firmly. “Even if you don’t, you and that sorry man ‘a yours can’t afford to fight it.”
“Maybe I feel like puttin’ you through the hassle anyway,” she suggested nastily.
“Your call,” Tack said on a shrug then continued, “But that offer has an expiration. Five seconds.”
Her face paled, she looked quickly toward the office then back at Tack. “Can we talk alone?”
Oh. My. God.
She’d come here for this.
“Four seconds,” Tack said.
Her body jerked.
“Seventy-five,” she haggled.
Ohmigod!
She’d come here to haggle for her kids!
“Three seconds.”
“Sixty!” she snapped.
“Two seconds, Naomi.”
“Fuck you, Tack!”
“Right, one second.”
“Fine!” she clipped.
Tack crossed his arms on his chest. “Good. That’s outta the way, these are the terms. I have the papers drawn up. They’re delivered to you. You got twenty-four hours to sign them. That’s delayed even a minute, deal’s dead. You think of getting any bright ideas or that moron of a man you got does and you think to reopen negotiations, deal’s dead. Tab, Rush, Tyra, me or anyone connected with Chaos sees you or hears from you, deal’s dead. Once signed, the kids see you when and if they want to. They don’t, they don’t see you. You don’t call them or me or Tyra or anyone that has anything to do with Chaos or Ride. You do not show your face here, at my house, at Tyra’s, at the kids’ school, ever. Unless the kids instigate contact, you’re gone. Agreed?”
“When do I get the money?” she asked instantly and Tack stared at her, his face twisted in a way I’d never seen.
Revulsion.
“Jesus,” he muttered, “I had your gold on my finger for years.”
“When do I get my money?” Naomi repeated, her tone sharper.
“Not even Rush?” Tack asked what I thought was strangely before I got it.
She wasn’t even going to fight for her son and she supposedly loved him.
That got to her and I could tell because her face was now twisted too. But it was not revulsion. It was hurt and bitterness.
Apparently she needed the money more than her son. Her next words laid testimony to it.
“When do I get my money, asshole?” Naomi shot back.
“When I get the signed papers,” Tack finally answered.
“Works for me,” she muttered, swung her glare to me then around the group at large before she stomped to her car.
Tack prowled to me.
Oh boy.
Hop let me go, Tack tagged my hand and then I
was clicking across the tarmac to the Compound. Once there, Tack pulled me inside and around the bar where he stopped me, tore off his sunglasses, threw them on the bar and put his hands to my waist. Up I went and my ass was on the bar.
“Don’t move,” he growled and stalked off.
I didn’t move.
He came back with a huge-ass first aid kit the size of which I blocked out instantly because of what its existence said about its owners. He set it on the bar beside me, dug through it, found what he was looking for and ripped open the foil pack to an alcohol wipe. I then performed a miracle when, as gentle as he was, I didn’t gasp when the sting hit me when he started swiping one of my two scraped and bleeding knees.
Looking, I also had scraped and bleeding elbows.
Damn.
Well, that slap was worth it even if I hoped none of this left scars.
After Tack finished cleaning my first knee, he’d opened another alcohol wipe and started on the other one, I thought it safe to offer quietly, “We’ll sell my car and I’ll put my house on the market right away. Maybe we’ll get a quick sale. And I still have a little money set aside.”
He was bent to the side to see what he was doing.
At my words, his body didn’t move. Only his eyes shifted to lock on mine.
“Say again?”
“To get the one hundred K for the kids,” I explained.
He went back to my knee, stating, “Don’t need to do that shit. I got it.”
My head jerked. “You have a hundred K?”
He tossed the bloody wipe down on the bar and went back to the kit to get another one, saying, “Yep.”
“Really?”
“Elbow up,” he ordered, ripping open another wipe then after he started working on my elbow, he answered my question, “Yep. Really.”
“So my old man’s loaded,” I whispered and his eyes came to me.
“Yep.”
I felt my eyes get wide.
“I was joking,” I informed him.
“I’m not.”
Holy crap!
He tossed the alcohol wipe to the side then placed a hand in the bar on either side of me and leaned in.
“Chaos has a lot of members. All money earned is doled out equal. But, babe, you’ve accepted payments for our cars and bikes. Those fuckers cost a fuckin’ mint. The stores are all way in the black. The point of decades of buildin’ that shit was so my brothers wouldn’t take a hit when we pulled outta the other shit. They did but that don’t mean that hit was big. We all live easy.”
If he had a hundred grand to toss around, he must live easy.
“I think I need a raise,” I declared.
He blinked.
Then he smiled slowly and I enjoyed the show.
After it was done, he said quietly, “But thanks for the offer, darlin’.”
“You’re welcome, Kane.”
His brows went up. “You really tackle that bitch?”
“I have the battle scars to prove it,” I said by way of answer.
“Babe,” he muttered.
“She called me the c-word,” I offered in my defense.
That got me another smile.
It faded and he whispered, “She signs those papers, we’re done with her.”
Better news, Tabby was.
“Yeah,” I whispered back, lifting my hands to curl them around his neck.
“All is in motion with the Russians. That plan goes down good, we’re breathin’ easy.”
He said no more, I correctly took it that was all he was going to say and even if that niggle came back I didn’t push it. I just nodded.
But I asked, “You okay? About Naomi, I mean.”
“Gives me the shudders, thinkin’ a woman who’d essentially sell her kids was in my bed and worse, as long as she was. But if this means the back of her, yeah. I’m okay.”
“Good,” I replied on a squeeze of my fingers.
“You need antibiotic ointment on your elbows and knees.”
“That might stain my blouse and skirt.”
“Babe, I’m loaded. Dry clean.”
“Right,” I whispered.
“Though, bad news for you, your skirt and blouse are already stained with blood.”
Such was the life of an old lady.
“Well, whatever, it was worth it.”
Tack gave me another smile but through it ordered, “Kiss me then I’ll sort you out.”
I held his eyes looking deep to be sure he was okay. When I was sure, I did as he asked.
Then my old man sorted me out so I was okay.
Chapter Twenty-Nine
Mr. Allen Needs a Lesson
“Shame,” Grigori Lescheva muttered, lounging in a chair opposite where I was tied to mine, duct tape over my mouth, his eyes on me. “You’re very attractive.”
I was breathing heavily through my nose. I had no idea how easy it was to breathe, having two choices to use to take in air. Now, only having one, it wasn’t so easy.
Not to mention, I was terrified out of my mind. It was hard to breathe when you were scared shitless.
“Such extraordinary hair,” he continued. “And so much of it.”
I didn’t say anything because I couldn’t. Even if I could, I wouldn’t.
“Auburn,” he whispered.
God, he was creeping me out.
“We could work something out, you and I,” he went on as I sucked in breath through my nose and my pulse spiked. “However, I think Mr. Allen needs a lesson.”
Oh God.
He tipped his eyes to the side then he tipped his chin up.
The man came toward me. My eyes darted his way and stayed glued to him as I panted through my nose, struggled against my bonds but it was no use.
He didn’t hesitate before he sunk the blade in my flesh.
Chapter Thirty
Targets
Seven and a half hours earlier in a house in the foothills outside Morrison, Colorado…
“Stop scratchin’.”
“I can’t, it itches.”
“It itches because it’s healin’.”
“I know that, Kane.”
I found myself plucked out of bed then I found my scabby knees difficult to get to since they were planted in the bed on either side of Tack seeing as I was straddling him.
“You’ll scar, you keep scratchin’,” he informed me, fingers tight to my hips, head on the pillow, eyes aimed up to mine.
“It’s not a big deal,” I returned. “They’re almost gone.”
And they were. It’d been four days since I tackled Naomi and the scrapes weren’t that bad in the first place.
“Leave ‘em be,” Tack ordered on a finger squeeze.
My eyes drifted to the headboard and I muttered, “Oh, all right.”
My eyes rolled back when Tack ordered, “Grab the envelope on the nightstand.”
I looked to the nightstand to see an envelope there. I leaned into him, reaching out a hand and I nabbed it. I sat back as best I could because when I leaned, Tack’s hands slid up my sides and he was holding me closer.
“Open it,” he kept bossing. “Tell me what you think. You like it, I’ll get it started.”
My head tipped to the side with curiosity but I opened the envelope, pulled out a piece of paper that at first glance looked like it had kickass doodles on it then my body went still when those doodles penetrated my brain.
“You see you?” Tack asked and I stared at the doodles harder.
Curlicues and spikes, lots of them, familiar.
I looked harder.
There it was.
My name hidden in the design. Tyra.
I held in my hand what would be me, inked permanently into Tack.
My breath left me and my eyes lifted to his.
“Had my guy draw it out,” Tack informed me then asked, “You like it?”
I didn’t have it in me even to be a little bit of a smartass.
I just answered, “Yes.”
“Right. I’ll give him a call. Get it set up.”
I clutched the sketch to my chest and fell forward, back curved, doing a face plant right under his throat.
One of his hands drifted up my spine and into my hair as he muttered, “Darlin’.”
I deep breathed.
“She really likes it,” he murmured.
“Yes,” I whispered.
“Babe, you gotta get used to my sweet,” he declared.
“Never,” I kept whispering, “because you just keep getting sweeter.”
His other arm curved around me and held tight.
I let him hold me for a while, taking him in with as many senses as I could before one of my hands drifted out and my fingers skimmed the tattoo on his left shoulder.
“You never told me about this,” I said softly.
“Balance,” he stated immediately and I lifted my head to look at him.
“Balance?”
He nodded, his hand in my hair drifting to the side of my neck, taking my hair with it and his thumb moved out to stroke my jaw.
“Balance, baby,” he said softly. “Wind. Fire. Live free. Be wild. Raise hell. But stay safe. You don’t, the reaper’ll get you, one way or another.” He paused then finished, “That tat’s a reminder. Balance. Raise hell but stay safe.”
I nodded.
Then I lifted up a bit and put my sketch on the nightstand before turning back to Tack and sharing, “Honey, you know I’m going out with Elvira today. You don’t have a lot of time. You need to get down to business.”
Tack grinned. Then both his arms closed around me, he rolled me to my back, his mouth taking mine and he got down to business.
* * * * *
Gwen
Two hours later, Hawk and Gwen Delgado’s farmhouse, South Denver…
Standing at the sink in my countrified yet whimsical kitchen, I jumped as arms closed around me from behind and I felt lips on the skin behind my ear.
“You need to quit doing that,” I stated even though I hoped he wouldn’t, not ever.
I lost those lips, kind of. They moved to my ear.
“Doing what?”
I turned in Hawk’s arms and looked up at him. “Dematerializing and rematerializing without making a sound. I know you’re a superhero out there, honey, but in this house you’re just Cabe.”