Own the Wind

  She got them safely to the bottom of the stairs but stopped, and Shy watched as she turned her head, jerked it forward, and captured Cut’s fist in her mouth.

  He squealed. Tabby let his little fist go, and her peel of musical laughter shot across the forecourt and hit him straight in the gut so hard it was a fucking miracle he didn’t grunt.

  Then it happened.

  Rider tripped and Tabby bent to right him and on her way up, her eyes moved through the forecourt, across the Compound, straight through him.

  Through him.

  Like he was fucking invisible.

  Jesus.

  Fuck.

  Jesus.

  There was a time, he caught sight of her, her eyes would shift away quickly and he knew she was watching him. Anytime she’d been around before he did what he did that night, if he saw her, her eyes were on him.

  Now he was invisible. It was like he didn’t exist.

  She moved the kids to her car and strapped them in the car seats in the back, and Shy kept watching, his gut tight, that burn searing his heart.

  She had a great ride. Her dad gave it to her when she was sixteen, and she took care of it like it was one of her little brothers. Its electric blue paint gleamed, clean and pristine, in the August sun.

  Sweet ride but Tabby, wearing one of those flowy, flowery, loose dresses that went all the way to her feet, so much fucking material, you couldn’t begin to guess what lay underneath it, didn’t look like she belonged to that car. The dress was saved by being strapless, the top essentially an elasticized tube top covering her tits, but still.

  It wasn’t cutoff short-shorts and rocker shirts like she used to wear.

  And her hair wasn’t down and wild. It was braided in thick plaits close to her skull on either side to flare out in a mass of hair at her nape that only hinted at the dense, glossy mane Tack’s good genes had bestowed on her.

  Yeah, he’d made his point.

  Fuck yeah, a year ago, he’d really fucking made his point.

  She got the kids strapped in and Big Petey exited the office, lumbered down the stairs, and Shy watched Pete and Tabby engage in a playful argument he couldn’t hear. Tab lost, and she faked being pissed as she handed over her keys and stomped around the car.

  Pete had one child, his daughter, now under dirt. When he came back after her funeral, he was shattered. The man was not young, but after he lost his daughter and returned to the brotherhood, he looked a thousand years old.

  Now, Shy saw, he was grinning as he folded his huge beer belly behind the wheel of Tab’s car and adjusted the seat.

  Tab did that. Tab brought him back. Tabby put together those pieces and gave Pete something to grin about.

  The Tab who looked right through Shy like he didn’t exist.

  Petey pulled out and he, Tab, Rider, and Cut took off, where, Shy had no clue. Shy’d heard Cherry and Tack talking about it enough to know that Rider and Cut’s big sister doted on them and spoiled their asses rotten. So he figured ice cream, park, but whatever it was, it was filled with their sister’s love.

  He watched the car until he couldn’t see it anymore.

  Then he jumped off the picnic table and walked inside.

  In the cool dark of the Compound, he stopped in the common room and stood, staring at the Chaos flag mounted on the wall at the back of the room.

  Cool and dark while his gut still twisted and his heart burned.

  He lifted his bottle and with his arm slicing through the air in a sidearm throw, he sent the bottle sailing across the room to smash in a foamy explosion of beer and brown glass on the wall opposite the door by the Club flag.

  “Jesus, brother, what the fuck?” he heard rumbled from the side of the room. He turned and looked to see High sitting on a stool at the bar with Snapper behind it.

  Shy didn’t answer. He prowled behind the bar and nabbed a bottle of tequila.

  On his way back around the bar, heading to his room, he ordered Snapper, “Clean that shit up.”

  Then he disappeared into his room.

  * * *

  Seven months later…

  He rolled his truck to a stop behind the electric blue car on the side of the road.

  Shy had gotten his first Tabby Callout in eighteen months.

  She wasn’t out on the prowl.

  She had a flat.

  She was standing, jean-clad hips against the side of her car, thermal-covered arms crossed over the poofy vest she was wearing, low-heeled booted feet crossed at the ankles, head turned to him, eyes hidden behind a pair of mirrored, wire-rimmed shades, face vacant.

  He’d seen her once since she took off with Petey and her brothers, and that was at the Chaos Christmas blowout at the Compound. He’d shown with a woman on his arm. She’d left fifteen minutes later.

  That was it.

  Now, as he angled out of his truck and moved toward her, she didn’t twitch. Just watched him.

  When he got close, even though he hadn’t spoken a word to her since they saw each other at Fortnum’s over a year ago, she announced sharply, “I know how to change a flat, but I can’t get the lug nuts to move.”

  He stopped a half a foot away from her, looked through his shades down his nose at her and growled, “I’m doin’ fuckin’ great, babe. Thanks for askin’. How the fuck are you?”

  Her head jerked and her shoulders straightened like a steel rod had been jammed down her spine. “Pardon?” she asked.

  “Nothin,” he muttered. “Do me a favor, step away from the car. Don’t need it sliding off the jack while I’m dealin’ with your tire because your ass is leaned into it.”

  She pushed away from the car and Shy headed to the flat. She’d pulled out the spare, had the car jacked up and the lug wrench lying on the tarmac. Shy crouched to it and was grabbing the wrench when she spoke.

  “Roscoe phoned. He’s ten minutes away. If this is biting into your schedule, he said he’d be able to help out.”

  “Take me ten minutes. Then you can disappear again,” he muttered, putting the wrench to the nut and finding she was not wrong. Those bitches were on there tight.

  Tabby fell silent. Shy worked.

  He switched the tire with her spare, dumped the flat into her trunk, and was slamming it closed when he stated, “Get to the garage. You got time, now would be good. Don’t drive too far on that spare.”

  “I may be a girl, but my dad’s a biker and a mechanic. I think I know enough not to ride around on a spare,” she returned. “Though,” she went on when his eyes cut to her, “you’ve given me an idea. All those silly women out there who don’t know better, I could give a helping hand, design some leaflets. Pass them out all around Denver. Explain about spare usage. How dangerous it is. I’ll be sure to put a bunch of butterflies on it and douse it with glitter so I can keep their attention while they’re reading it.”

  He felt his eyes narrow as his mouth asked, “What the fuck?”

  “Nothin’,” she muttered, then he felt his gut tighten when she asked, “Is a blowjob acceptable payment for a tire change or does the headboard need to rock?”

  Seriously.

  He hadn’t seen the bitch in months, he hadn’t spoken to her in over a year, what was with the fucking attitude?

  He was too goddamned incensed to ask her that, all he could force out was a repeated, “What the fuck?”

  “Payback, Shy. I certainly wouldn’t want to put you out of your way for nothing,” she explained, and he felt his jaw go tight before he forced it loose in order to respond.

  “Give me five minutes, baby, hauled ass out here to take care of you, my truck’s old, the heat isn’t what it used to be. She warms up, a blowjob in the cab would be just fine.”

  “Is it necessary for me to call a friend or will just me do?” she shot back.

  “Hard for two bitches to get their mouths wrapped around my cock, but if you’ve got a way, sugar, I’m up for the experience.”

  “Oh, you’ll be up,” she hissed, l
eaning in slightly.

  “Don’t make promises you can’t keep,” he returned.

  She stared at him through her shades, her mouth set, and he knew, he tore off those fucking sunglasses, her eyes would be flaring.

  He pulled in a breath, calming the burn in his insides so he was able to request, “You wanna explain the attitude?”

  “No,” she clipped.

  “If you don’t, then don’t dish that shit out. You got somethin’ up your ass, you gotta have the balls to let it hang out. Not dish out shit and expect me to eat it when I don’t know your fuckin’ problem.”

  “You’re right, Shy. My apologies. You walking up to my car and cursing sarcastically at me threw me off my game. You went out of your way to help me, I should be more appreciative.”

  Her words were sweet. Her tone was not.

  “Babe, you led with snapping out you’d have this covered if you could move those lug nuts. You didn’t even fuckin’ say hello. How, exactly, would you have liked me to respond to that, seein’ as you haven’t so much as looked at me in a long fuckin’ time.”

  She threw out her hands in a bullshit gesture of apology. “Sorry, Shy, so, so sorry. I mean, it isn’t like I was on my way to do something when I got a stupid flat then I couldn’t move the stupid lug nuts and I tried for, like”—she leaned in—“ever. So when you rolled up to help out, instead of being understandably frustrated, I should have put the smile on and given you the love. I get that, you hauled yourself out here to help out and me being pissed off that my day is totally screwed, my hands are dirty, my jeans are dirty, and I have to go home and change isn’t your problem. I shouldn’t make it that way.”

  Fuck, she had a point.

  “Tabby—” he started, but she cut him off.

  “And the blowjob crack was out of line. I apologize for that too.”

  “Tab—”

  “As was the friend thing and, well… everything. Now, are we good?”

  There it was.

  His shot.

  And he was going to take it.

  He took a step toward her and said quietly, “We’re good, babe, but since your day is screwed anyway, and we’re out in the middle of nowhere, we should take this time to talk.”

  When he moved toward her, she held her ground. After he made his suggestion, she leaned slightly back.

  “About what?” she asked.

  “I got the feeling you’re avoiding me.”

  “I’m not,” she stated, too quickly.

  “I haven’t spoken to you in over a year,” he pointed out.

  “We were never really close, Shy,” she replied.

  Shy tried a different tactic. “Used to see you all the time, Tab. Now I never see you.”

  “I’m busy.”

  “You were busy before and I still saw you.”

  “Now I’m busy… er.”

  He shook his head and moved closer. She stood her ground but he saw her body go stiff. He ignored that and continued, “You’re avoiding me and have been since that shit went down a while back.”

  “What shit?” she asked, and she was so obviously attempting to pull the wool, he almost smiled because it was fucking cute.

  Damn.

  “You know what shit,” he replied.

  “Shy—” she began, moving back, but he caught her by her upper arm and she went still again.

  He leaned down so their faces were close.

  Jesus, she had a fantastic mouth.

  “It was harsh, babe, way harsh, too harsh. I see that now, but it’s been over a year and you’re still freezing me out. This shit can’t go on, Tabby. We’re family.”

  He saw that fantastic mouth of hers twist in a way that made his gut do the same before she whispered, “We’re not family.”

  “We’re both Chaos,” he reminded her.

  “We’re not family,” she repeated.

  “Babe—”

  She twisted her arm out of his hold but didn’t move away when she spoke.

  “My family talked to me about the shit that went down with that guy after it happened years ago, Shy. Ty-Ty, Dad, Rush were there for me. I screwed up, things with Mom were bad, she was always all over me even when I didn’t do anything wrong. I was sixteen and stupid so, I thought, what the heck? If I was going to be in trouble anyway, I might as well do something to be in trouble for, and I was with a guy who was way too old for me. He tried it on with me, it flipped me out, and when I said no, he wasn’t cool. He hit me, hurt me, and I called Tyra to help me out. She called you to take her back. And, well, you were there. You know the rest.”

  “Tab—” Shy tried again, now trying to cut in because he could tell going over the past was not somewhere she wanted to be but Tabby kept talking.

  “When they confronted me about it, it wasn’t comfortable but it was honest and gentle and what I needed. Sheila took me aside and she asked me and listened to me when I had to let go of shit about Mom. Arlo took me out for a hot dog and a discussion on how to spot a good guy and when to know when a guy’s a jerk. And all of them had my back for years after that went down to make sure nothing like that went down again. It was overboard, overprotective, and annoying but at least it was loving.” She shook her head. “But you… you made assumptions. You showed you decided exactly the kind of girl I was that night when that guy took his hand to me without knowing one single thing about me. I wasn’t what you thought, Shy. I didn’t need your shit and I also didn’t deserve it. Family doesn’t make judgments. They talk. They support. You made a judgment. You acted on that judgment. You doing it hurt me so that means you are not my family.”

  After gutting him, she turned on her boot, stomped to her car, folded her curvy, little body in and then she was off, leaving Shy standing at the side of the road.

  * * *

  Four months later…

  Shy sat on his bike, pissed. Construction jacking up downtown and some show getting out at the Denver Center for the Performing Arts meant traffic was jammed every-fucking-where.

  He watched three cars get through the light and didn’t budge on his bike before they were back to red and he was back to thinking he’d ride his bike up on the sidewalk to get past this shit. The cars were so jacked, jockeying for position to make it to the single lane they had to get through, he couldn’t even ride between to get the fuck out.

  He sat back and turned his head, gliding his eyes through the waves of people crawling over the sidewalks, crossing the street and climbing down the stairs at DCPA, when his eyes passed through her and his head jerked back.

  Tabby.

  Tabby wearing a tight, strapless red dress covered in lace, the scallops skimming her knees. On her feet were high, spiked black heels that were sexy as all fuck, the same as they were classy. Her mass of hair was pulled softly back from her face, tucked in a complicated arrangement of curls at the back.

  She looked like a modern-day princess. Elegant. Sophisticated. High-class.

  “Jesus,” he muttered.

  She was looking around like she was lost, and he was about to put his tongue to his teeth to whistle when she found what she was looking for and Shy went rock solid.

  A tall, good-looking, built blond guy in a suit moved to her, smiling. She tipped her head back, not smiling.

  Fucking beaming.

  Shy watched as the man slid an arm around her waist, she leaned into his body, and he bent to touch his mouth to hers. He stayed bent, kept his face close to hers, as any man would do, Tabby dressed like that, looking like that, smiling like that, and her mouth moved.

  Then his head shot back as he burst out laughing.

  Tabby watched for a beat before she dropped her chin and rested her forehead against his chest, her arms moving to curve around him and hold him while he shook with humor.

  “Jesus,” Shy muttered, that burn back, in his gut, chest, heart, even up his fucking throat.

  He wanted to but he couldn’t tear his eyes away when the man dipped his chin back down, cu
pped her jaw with a hand, lifted her face to his, and bent to touch his mouth to Tabby’s again.

  But it wasn’t a touch.

  He kept his mouth on hers a long fucking time. Like they weren’t on a sidewalk with hundreds of people streaming around them and waiting in cars to get through traffic. Like they were alone, just them.

  Shy kept watching as the man broke the kiss. Tabby’s hand, now at the guy’s neck, moved so her thumb could stroke his jaw and she could gaze up at him like he was the only man on the planet.

  It was then Shy tore his eyes away.

  And it was then, ignoring the cars that honked and the shouts out the window, he maneuvered his bike through the cars, nearly jacking up his legs and his bike.

  Two seconds later, when the light changed, he roared the fuck away.

  * * *

  Eight months later…

  “Jesus, seriously, set me up,” Dog growled as he stalked into the Compound and headed toward where Shy, Arlo, and Brick were sitting, drinking beer, Bat across from them playing bartender.

  “What’s up, brother?” Arlo asked, as Dog hoisted his ass on a stool.

  “Our little Tabby’s engaged.”

  Shy felt like he’d been sucker-punched.

  “No shit?” Brick asked, sounding like he’d been sucker-punched too.

  “Jesus, God, please don’t make it be that blond guy who’s built like a linebacker and looks like a cop,” Bat muttered.

  Dog took a long pull from his beer but did it nodding. Then he dropped the beer to the bar and leveled his eyes on Brick.

  “Good dude, I met him. Physical therapist. Played college ball, good at it but not good enough. Though that experience helped. He works for the Broncos.”

  Shy looked at the beer he was holding on the bar.

  Shit.

  Fuck.

  Shit.

  “She’s over the fuckin’ moon,” Dog continued, and Shy’s gut twisted. “Cherry is too. Cherry thinks he’s the shit. Can’t say I don’t like him but he’s fuckin’ normal. Tack’s torn. The dude totally thinks our girl walks on water, what father wouldn’t like that? He’s cool too. Knows us, who we are, where she came from, does not give that first fuck. He’d take her legless and armless if she was still Tab, he don’t care where she comes from. That said, he’s not anywhere close to the life, he comes from the fuckin’ suburbs, and Tack’s strugglin’ with that.”