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, leaning 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, cupped 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.”
Shy lifted his beer and took a drag.
He swallowed and found it didn’t help the burn.
Dog, unfortunately, kept fucking talking. “They’re gonna wait until she graduates to get married. She’s bein’ funny about it. Dude wants her to move in, she says after the wedding. Don’t know why she just don’t shack up with the guy. Try before you buy, see if that shit’ll work. But she’s not down with that so…whatever.”
Tabby being theirs, his brothers could talk about this shit all night.
But Shy had had enough.
He pushed his stool back, slid off it, and muttered, “Gotta go.”
“Where you goin’?” Bat asked.
He didn’t know. He didn’t care. Anywhere just as long as he got there on his bike.
“Shit to do,” he muttered and moved around the bar, eyes to his feet, mind centered on keeping his jaw relaxed, his hands unclenched.
He walked out the door, swung on his bike, and rolled out.
He didn’t hit Chaos again for three weeks.
* * * * *
Six months later…
Shy was moving across the forecourt toward the Compound in order to grab a shower and head out. His hands were filthy from grease. The car he’d been working on for the last three months was finally done.
Time to celebrate.
He moved into the Compound and felt the heaviness in the air immediately. Boys were moving out, faces alert, even alarmed, the vibe bad.
“What’s goin’ on?” he asked Roscoe, who was shifting, like all the brothers, toward the door.
“Car accident,” Roscoe answered, stopping and catching his eye. “Tab’s fiancé.”
The force of that information knocked Shy so hard it was a wonder he didn’t fall to a knee.
The wedding was three weeks away.
Jesus. Tabby.
“What?” he whispered.
Roscoe shook his head. “Just got the news. She’s at Denver Health. He’s, brother, this shit is fuckin’ crazy, but the guy was DOA. Didn’t even make it to the hospital. Gone. Tack says Tab’s lost it. We’re movin’ out, takin her back, Tack’s back, seein’ if we can do anything.” His head tipped to the side. “Comin’?”
DOA.
Didn’t even make it to the hospital.
Gone.
Tab’s lost it.
Lost it.
“Anyone watchin’ the kids?” he forced out.
“Sheila’s headin’ up there.”
“I’ll go help her out,” Shy offered, turning, digging his greasy hand into his jeans for his keys.
“Help out Sheila with the kids?” Roscoe asked his back.
Shy didn’t answer. It was jacked, fucking lame, but it was doing something. Something away from Tabby.
She wouldn’t want to see him now.
She never wanted to see him.
But he had to do something.
He wasn’t her family.
But she was his.
* * * * *
Three days later…
Shy sat in his dark living room in his apartment, the first time he’d been there for months.
He was thinking and he was remembering.
Remembering for the first time in a long time that day when the news came.
Remembering that day when his life, at age fucking twelve, shifted and went from good, no great, to absolute shit.
Remembering the day years later when he found Chaos and he thought, finally, fucking finally, his life would no longer be shit and he was right.
And thinking that, six hours ago, probably wearing black, probably looking lifeless, just like she’d looked yesterday when he saw her walking out of the office with Cherry, Cherry’s arm around her holding her close, her head bobbing like she was agreeing to what Cherry was saying when he knew just by looking at her she didn’t hear a thing, Tabby stood in a cemetery and laid her man into the ground.
Her man was twenty-seven years old.
Shy’s age.
Shy lifted the bottle of vodka to his lips and took a deep pull.
He didn’t drop it before he took another one.
Own the Wind is available in eBook, paperback and audio.
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About the Author
Kristen Ashley grew up in Brownsburg, Indiana but has lived in Denver, Colorado and the West Country of England. Thus she has been blessed to have friends and family around the globe. Her posse is loopy (to say the
least) but loopy is good when you want to write.
Kristen was raised in a house with a large and multi-generational family. They lived on a very small farm in a small town in the heartland and existed amongst the strains of Glenn Miller, The Everly Brothers, REO Speedwagon and Whitesnake (and the wardrobes that matched).
Needless to say, growing up in a house full of music, clothes and love was a good way to grow up.
And as she keeps growing up, it keeps getting better.
*****
Discover other titles by Kristen Ashley:
Rock Chick Series:
Rock Chick
Rock Chick Rescue
Rock Chick Redemption
Rock Chick Renegade
Rock Chick Revenge
Rock Chick Reckoning
Rock Chick Regret
Rock Chick Revolution
The ‘Burg Series:
For You
At Peace
Golden Trail
Games of the Heart
The Promise
Hold On
The Chaos Series:
Own the Wind
Fire Inside
Ride Steady
Walk Through Fire
The Colorado Mountain Series:
The Gamble
Sweet Dreams
Lady Luck
Breathe
Jagged
Kaleidoscope
Dream Man Series:
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