Wild Fire: A Chaos Novella Page 11

  “No, dummy,” she retorted. “I’m wearing it for you. I mean, who am I going home to at the end of the night?”

  Well then.

  “He’s still gonna see you in it,” he pointed out a lot less heatedly.

  “Who cares? He’s the means to an end and that’s all. And seriously, Dutch, you gotta trust me, that’s all.”

  “I know that’s all, but the way you describe this guy, I don’t got a good feeling about him.”

  “He’s a lech, but he’s also a good source, and I can handle myself, and you have to trust that too.”

  Shit.

  He did.

  And right then, that blew.

  “Don’t call me a dummy,” he said.

  “I will when you’re being ridiculously bossy and a dummy. I mean, gross. I’d never wear something sexy for Jackson. Or anyone for purposes such as that. I want justice for Carlyle, but there are certain lines a girl doesn’t cross. At least this girl doesn’t.”

  “Good to know,” he muttered.

  “And anyway, this is just a cute dress. It’s not sexy. You just like me.”

  “Babe, when you grow a dick, you can say shit like that. Trust me, it’s sexy.”

  “Really?” she asked, looking down at herself.

  Fucking hell.

  What was he going to do with this woman?

  He knew.

  “Get over here. I wanna kiss you stupid so you don’t forget who you’re comin’ home to at the end of the night.”

  She shook her head and added rolling her eyes. “Like I’d forget, Dutch. You’re the hottest guy I’ve ever dated, and I’m saying that peremptorily, because we haven’t actually been on a date. And I’m not counting lunch with two cops as a date, no matter how good my burrito was.”

  “Okay, now you gotta get over here so I can kiss you stupid because what you said was so sweet and you’re bein’ your usual hilarious.”

  “You just want to kiss me because I’m in this dress.”

  “I wanna kiss you all the time, but I need to kiss you now because you’re in that dress.”

  “There you go, Dutch, the reason I’m in this dress.”

  He was seeing he needed to have his head examined because he was a total dummy getting hooked up with a woman who was absolutely not.

  In the end, he went to her to kiss her stupid.

  He then crated her cat, grabbed her laptop case, she went off on her date-not-date and he came home with Murtagh.

  The cat had something to say about his new environs, and he said that something continuously.

  Until his food was down.

  Then Murtagh couldn’t give that first shit where he was.

  And now, the only thing that had happened that night was he’d avoided two calls from Jag, one from his mom, and got a text that read, Call your mother from Hound.

  To which he’d replied Is everything okay?

  And got the response, Don’t know, you tell us.

  He wasn’t going to go there, and he wasn’t feeling great that they were wondering, but he’d thought he’d ended it (for now) with, Later. We’ll do a family dinner or something.

  When Hound didn’t text back, he was left with counting down the hours until Georgie came to him, of which he was giving her two, and he was barely at the end of the first one.

  “It’s gonna be a long night,” he told Murtagh.

  Murtagh’s responding “murr” was interrupted by a banging on his front door.

  The cat sunk his claws in, and Dutch had to hand it to the little bugger, he was Sundancing this shit, not leaving Dutch and looking at the door with an angry “Mwryow!”

  “Open up!” Hound shouted.

  Murtagh stood up, somehow gaining twenty pounds—in each foot—and shouted, “Mwrrryow!” back.

  “Right, Sundance, Butch is gonna go open the door,” Dutch said, picking up the cat, getting an angry noise, putting the cat down on the couch after he angled off it, and hearing the thud of him jumping to the floor and following Dutch to the front door.

  He opened it.

  And he had no choice but to step aside when his entire family stormed in.

  “Mwryow, mrr mrr, myow, myow, mrr,” Murtagh demanded to know why they’d interrupted his quiet night.

  “What the fuck?” Jagger asked, staring down at the cat.

  “Oh my God, that cat is the cutest thing I ever saw,” his mom declared.

  “MWYOW!” Murtagh shrieked.

  “What’s the matter with it?” Hound asked.

  Dutch bent down, picked up the cat, and because big brother shit never died, he fell in love with it even more when he stretched out a paw, claws extended, scratching toward Jagger like he wanted to eviscerate him.

  Dutch started laughing at the same time encouraging, “Atta boy.”

  “What’d I do?” Jagger asked.

  “Give him to me,” his ma said, and didn’t let Dutch move. She came to him, entirely unafraid of Murtagh’s murderous intent toward her middle son, and she took the cat. “Look at you,” she cooed, cuddling Murtagh close. “My first grandbaby.”

  Murtagh immediately started purring and butting his mother’s jaw with his head.

  “Jesus Christ,” Hound grunted then scowled at Dutch. “You know now I’m gonna have to get her a fuckin’ cat.”

  “What are you all doing here?” Dutch asked.

  “When did you get a cat?” Jagger asked in return.

  “What are you doing here?” Dutch repeated. Then he looked to his mother. “And where’s Wilder?”

  “We do know how to get a babysitter for your little brother, Dutch,” she replied. “Bev and Tad are with him. It’s getting late. Close to his bedtime. And anyway, his presence during this visit is unnecessary.”

  His five-year-old brother’s presence wasn’t necessary during this visit?

  “Okay, then someone answer my first question,” Dutch demanded.

  They all looked at each other.

  “Do I need to read minds? Go out and get some tarot cards? What the fuck?” Dutch prompted.

  “Cool it, son,” Hound said.

  “Not feelin’ cool with you all here, acting weird,” Dutch returned.

  “We’re not acting weird,” his mom said.

  “No one’s answering my question, that’s weird,” Dutch replied.

  “Gotta admit, it is weird,” his mother said under her breath to Hound.

  “Oh, for fuck’s sake,” Dutch said to the ceiling.

  “You haven’t been to the shop in five days,” Hound declared.

  Dutch looked to him.

  “And you came to the Compound, got toasted, when you never get toasted, and crashed there, when you rarely crash there,” Jag put in.

  “On top of not being in the shop for five days,” Hound said. “In fact, you haven’t been back on Chaos at all since you tied one on.”

  “A brother does what he does. The shop not been covered?” Dutch asked.

  “You know it has, but that’s not the issue,” Hound answered.

  “What’s the issue that means you all show up unannounced at my house and act weird?” Dutch pushed. “I haven’t disappeared. It’s not like I’m not answering texts. I’ve just been busy.”

  “With what?” Jag asked.

  “That’s my business,” Dutch answered.

  “Dude, we’re just worried about you,” Jag replied.

  “There’s nothing to worry about,” Dutch stated.

  “Now, Dutch,” his mother said.

  And that was all she said.

  Shit, shit, shit.

  “I’m good, Ma,” he lied.

  She gave him a look that said she knew he was lying.

  Fuck.

  “Listen, I just got something I’m workin’ out. I’m on it. It’s cool. And when I feel like sharing, I’ll—”

  Dutch didn’t finish that.

  His back straightened.

  Jag and Hound both looked toward the side door.

 
Murtagh called, “Mwrr.”

  And Georgie could be heard shouting, “Oh my God! Remind me never to agree to do anything like that again. I do not care how righteous the cause. You were so right. That Jackson guy is pond scum. He—”

  She stopped speaking and stopped moving when she was one step into the living room, her face going pale as she stared at his family.

  But Dutch’s vision was blurry, his head was fuzzed, and his palms were itching when he turned her way and barked, “What?”

  She jolted and looked to him, whispering, “What, what, baby?”

  He prowled to her, asking, “What’d that Jackson guy do?”

  “Uh,” she mumbled, eyes huge in her face and aimed up at him as he stopped in front of her. “Your family is here.”

  “What’d he do that you’re here barely an hour after I left you?” he demanded.

  “Can we just say he wasn’t a gentleman?” she tried.

  “No,” he bit.

  She put her hand to his sternum, leaned in and said, “Your family is here, honey, like, right here.”

  “Um, hello there. I’m Dutch’s mother, Keely. And who might you be?” his ma said close to his left side.

  “Jesus, Georgiana, what’re you doin’ here?” Jagger asked from close to his right.

  “Everyone out,” Hound ordered at his back.

  That was Hound, always at his back.

  Definitely literally, and now figuratively.

  “Not on your goddamned life, cowboy,” his mother decreed.

  Shit.

  “I’m thinking there are other good reasons I wore this dress tonight,” Georgie muttered.

  He wanted to think she was funny.

  He was not finding anything funny.

  “You okay?” he asked her.

  “He just made a pass. I deflected. Took off. But, uh…” Her eyes went side to side, before she finished, “my mission was not accomplished.”

  “Hound, my love, my husband, father of one of my sons, dad to all, do you know how interesting I find all this?” his mother called, even though Hound was probably three inches away from her.

  “Baby,” Hound grunted like he was trying not to laugh.

  “Very interesting,” his mother answered herself.

  “Hi.” Georgiana jumped forward, extending her hand toward Keely. “I’m Georgiana Traylor. And Dutch and I are, um…we’re, uh…”

  Dutch shifted, slung an arm around her shoulders, and said, “It’s Georgie’s cat, Ma.”

  “I see,” Keely said, lifting a hand and taking Georgie’s. “Nice to meet you, Georgiana.”

  “She’s Carolyn’s sister,” Jagger shared when Keely let her go.

  “Is she now?” Keely asked, her eyes narrowing.

  And it was the first time Dutch had any indication his mother had Carolyn’s number.

  Jagger was grinning massively, shoving his way in front of Hound, arms crossed on his chest. “Did you two hook up after Carolyn and I couldn’t give Georgie a ride from the airport?”

  “Jag—” Dutch started.

  “Jives,” Jagger noted. “Seein’ as it’s been about five days.”

  “Jagger—” Dutch tried again.

  “Fuckin’ hell, man, you and me with sisters,” Jag stated and burst out laughing.

  “Oh my God,” Georgie mumbled super low, pressing her hip hard into his to indicate that this was not a good sitch and it was getting worse.

  “Murr,” Murtagh butted into the conversation.

  “Hullo, my baby, hullo, my precious,” Georgie cooed to him as he threaded himself around her stilettos and the hems of Dutch’s jeans.

  “This is like a Hallmark movie,” Jag said.

  “Hallmark in hell,” Georgie said, again under her breath.

  Now that was funny.

  Dutch choked down laughter.

  “Okay, I’m done. What the fuck is going on?” his mother demanded in Mom Voice.

  “Shit,” he muttered.

  “Oh boy,” Georgie mumbled.

  “Baby,” Hound tutted.

  “It’s just that Dutch hooked up. I told you two he was cool,” Jag declared.

  “Is that it, Dutch?” Keely asked. “You just found a girl? Who’s your brother’s girlfriend’s sister? Who tonight apparently was out with another man, wearing that dress, a man who made a pass at her? News that’s surprising in itself, considering she left him and came right to you. News that further made me wonder if we’d have to tie you down so you wouldn’t go out and commit murder? Is that just what’s going on?”

  Dutch looked to Georgie and asked, “Babe?”

  She got him.

  “I don’t know, honey,” she said. “Your call.”

  “Not all of it,” he reminded her.

  “It’s gonna have to be done eventually.”

  “Jesus Christ!” Keely screeched, Georgie jumped, and Dutch looked to his ma to see her eyes on Hound. “They’re talking in code. This is so deep between them they can talk in code. And his mother is just now meeting this girl?”

  “Woman, lock it down,” Hound growled.

  She leaned toward Hound. “In code, Shepherd.”

  “He’s a grown man, Keekee,” Hound replied.

  “So you’re okay with this?” she demanded.

  “Well, yeah,” Hound answered. “Because he’s a grown man, Keely.”

  “Oh for fuck’s sake, we’re investigating the murder of the dad of one of the kids at King’s Shelter. Georgie is a reporter and she’s using some of her sources to find out whatever she can,” Dutch told them. He looked down at Georgie. “And obviously, that did not go well tonight.”

  “It’s over. I’m fine,” she assured.

  “Right,” he grunted.

  “You’re investigating a murder?” Keely asked.

  Goddamn it.

  “Ma—” he started.

  “When did you take the detective’s exam?” she queried.

  “Listen—” he tried again.

  “Strike that, when did you become a cop at all?” she kept at him.

  He went silent but did it looking to Hound and Jagger for support.

  And found none.

  He would discover why immediately.

  “Got a brother at your back?” Hound asked.

  Fuck, fuck, fuck.

  “Hound—”

  “Do you?” Hound bit.

  “No,” Dutch bit back.

  “Are you fucking shitting us?” Jagger demanded.

  “Okay, now, let’s just—” Georgie tried.

  “Quiet, girl, you’re not in this,” Keely ordered.

  Now, wait a fucking minute.

  “Do not,” Dutch clipped.

  His mother blinked.

  Hound got closer to his wife.

  Georgie pressed closer to his side.

  “This is my home, and this is my woman, Ma. Do not speak to her like that in my home. Or ever.”

  “Your woman?” Georgie and Keely both asked at the same time.

  “We’re new,” he said to Georgie and looked to his mother. “She’s new. But the point still stands.”

  Keely couldn’t argue that and didn’t.

  She asked, “How new?”

  “We haven’t even been out on a date,” he told her.

  “And she’s coming in your side door?” his mother inquired.

  “Keekee,” Hound warned.

  Keely shut her mouth.

  “Respect, I love you, but how many dates did you go on with Hound before he was at our breakfast table?” Dutch asked.

  There was utter silence, until Hound chuckled.

  “Gotcha there, Ma,” Jagger said.

  “When you all have children, I will be laughing,” Keely stated.

  “Maybe I should—” Georgie started.

  “They’re leaving, you’re not,” he told her.

  She sucked in her lips and lifted her brows.

  “Right, about this murder,” Hound said.

  Dutch look
ed to him. “It’s mine.”

  “Dutch—” Hound began.

  “It’s mine. I’m doing what I have to do. It’s mine.”

  Hound stared into his eyes and Dutch knew this bit. It stung. It pained him.

  This man took them out to get candy on Halloween.

  This man sat them down and gave them their sex talks.

  This man put their names forward to be brothers at Chaos.

  This man gave them a baby brother and made their mother happy again.

  But what Dutch was doing for Carlyle was about Carlyle.

  It was about Khalon Stephens.

  And it was about Graham Black.

  Dutch knew it would not erase his father’s death or Carlyle losing his own dad.

  He also knew, for whatever reason, he had to do this.

  If he didn’t, he’d never be right again.

  He sensed Georgie knew it.

  And looking in Hound’s eyes, it didn’t surprise Dutch in the slightest that Hound knew it too.

  Hound Ironside knew his boys down to the soul.

  So he knew this.

  Keely sidled closer, whispering, “Dutch.”

  “It’s mine, Ma,” he said firmly, now staring her straight in the eye.

  She halted, nodded, her expression troubled.

  “Maybe it should be mine too,” Jagger put in.

  He looked to his brother.

  Jagger got it too.

  And he would go there because Jag deserved the shot to have whatever Dutch was going to get out of this.

  Except…

  He looked to Georgie.

  She shrugged and bit her lip.

  She then nodded and said, “It’s not fair. They’re on again and it’s not right, Dutch.”

  He nodded back and asked, “You or me?”

  “What the fuck?” Jagger cut in.

  Georgie looked to his brother. “Okay, I’m sorry. So sorry. But, well…”

  She faltered.

  Dutch stepped in.

  “She’s usin’ you, man. Carolyn. She’s got a bunch a’ guys she mooches from and it’s not life-is-tough shit. She’s got a cocaine habit.”

  Jagger’s upper body swayed back.

  Shit, Christ.

  “Brother, I’m sorry,” he said quietly. “But it’s true.”

  “I’m not a pain-in-the-ass sister, Jagger,” Georgie added. “I’ve been on her for a while to get herself cleaned up and to stop…uh, what she’s doing with, um…using you and the, uh…other guys.”

  Fuck.

  “I told you, boy,” Hound said.