Tack nodded, his face warming.
“It won’t be a dump and dash,” he assured. “I’ll show you. I’ll teach you. I’ll help you. And no way Red is gonna give up what she does. If she doesn’t have something outside our home, she’d lose her mind. So you’ll have her and it goes without saying, you’ll always have me.”
“Right, but Dad—”
“This gets done, we’re focusing on Chaos.”
Rush’s entire frame turned to stone.
Was he saying . . . ?
“No more patrolling,” Tack declared.
Another blow to the gut.
And this one felt twice a sweet.
Tack carried on.
“Benito’s mortally wounded and soon to be gone. When Chew’s neutralized, my vision will finally be realized. Chaos can be about custom cars, bikes, auto supplies, hog roasts, havin’ a good fuckin’ time and lookin’ after our families. It took a fuckuva lot longer than I thought it would, but I’ll be leavin’ you the Club I wanted you to have. I wish you didn’t have to earn your place in it the way you did, but that didn’t happen. You got what you got. And in the end, the way you got it is good. The men will trust you. They’ll follow you. I know this because they already respect you. I have no doubt when the vote comes, it’ll go your way. In fact, when I step down and the nominations come, your name will be the first one out of every brothers’ mouth.”
Rush felt his heart thumping at all his father was saying, all it meant, how colossal it was, as he watched Tack’s gaze go even more intense before he said his next.
“It’s important you know, son, that it isn’t about the others not wanting it. It’s about you earning it. I just shared all that shit so you’d know you weren’t steppin’ over a brother to have it.”
Tack drew in a breath.
Rush stared in his father’s eyes.
His father finished it.
“Bottom line, Chew’s gone, I can finally give you what I’ve been working nearly three decades for you to have. My legacy.”
Processing as much emotion as it was, he couldn’t hold it up any longer, so Rush dropped his head and stared at his lap.
“You’re a good son. You’re a good man,” his dad whispered. “I have no idea how, through all the shit you had to wade through that was not in my power to protect you from, you turned into the man you are.”
Rush tipped his head back to again catch Tack’s eyes.
“But you did and I’m damned proud, Rush. You’re the man I wanted to be. You’ll have the Club I wanted to make. And I did more. I made Tabby. I had a hand in makin’ Ride and Cut. I earned the love of your stepmother. I debate it every day, what makes me the proudest. And I gotta tell you, son, havin’ that to debate is the best place a man can be.”
His voice was hoarse when he said, “Dad.”
His father’s voice was thick when he continued, “No pressure, Rush. You don’t want it, we’re surrounded by good men. The best. The Club will survive.” He leaned toward Rush and put his elbows to his knees. “The Club will survive.”
He did that.
Against crazy odds, his father did that.
He made it so the Chaos Motorcycle Club would survive.
Rush leaned toward him and put his elbows to his knees.
“I’m the man you wanted to be. You’re the man, Dad, I worked hard to turn out to be.”
What came at him next was rough.
But it felt good.
“Son.”
They held each other’s gaze, Chaos’s Club table with its first flag in Plexiglass the only thing between them.
In other words, there was nothing between them.
“Hog roasts,” Rush whispered.
“And family,” Tack replied.
“Rebel’s the one.”
Tack nodded then slowly grinned. “I was feelin’ that. Felt the same with Red. The minute she threw her attitude at me, that red hair, those eyes, I was gone. Saw that in you the first time you saw your girl. She’s beautiful, got a heart of gold, and she’ll give you a run for your money. I like that for you, Rush. I like it a fuckuva lot.”
He already knew that the first time his dad met Rebel.
He still liked getting the words.
“We need time,” Rush told him.
“Chew’s on the run, he has nowhere to turn, and he’s made it clear he doesn’t have money. He needs to gather his resources. Sucks, but I reckon he’ll give us that.”
“It isn’t over,” Rush pointed out.
“No, but we’re at the end of that tunnel, Rush. I feel it. That fucker was long, and it got tight along the way, but we’re gonna get there. Intact. Save Black, but at least we got his sons so he’s with us. We reach the end, it’s all sunshine and we got a future that’s bright.”
“You did that,” Rush said.
“Nope.” Tack shook his head. “No war worth winnin’ is won by one man alone. We did it. And soon it’ll be done. Then it’ll be time for the next chapter. And when it is, like I’ve done, I want my son to be the scribe.”
“I’m in.”
Rush watched his father close his eyes, look away, and Rush forced himself to breathe steady.
That meant everything to him.
He’d done all of this.
For Rush.
His dad opened his eyes and looked back.
“I knew you would be.”
Through the thick stubble he was growing for his girl, Cole “Rush” Allen smiled at his dad.
Through the ragged goatee he kept for his woman, Kane “Tack” Allen smiled back.
“I can’t believe you called in a pizza order on the way here,” Rebel grumbled, wandering back into her living room after she said goodbye to Diesel and Maddox, who made moves to take off practically before Rush got his boot over the threshold.
Seemed it was time to celebrate their fun day.
Since Rush already knew what made it fun, he didn’t hold them back.
Rush was sitting on her sofa that was shaped like a kidney and had a dizzying pattern of burnt orange against a backdrop of olive.
This rested in front of a coffee table with a triangular glass top, the points of the triangle curved, and it had a space-age, blond wood base of two pieces that seemed to defy the laws of physics holding up the top.
Copious throw pillows that did not match the couch. Lime green chairs with thin metal legs that looked good but did not ask you to sit down and stay awhile, but get up and get the fuck out. Poofs on the floor made of green, gold and blue velvet that did invite you to plant your ass and have a brew. Wild lamps. The wall behind a fireplace filled with fat, rust-colored candles painted a dark cerulean blue. The space behind two inbuilt bookshelves painted lime green. Those bookshelves couched multi-paned windows around a window seat lined and stuffed with cushions the shade of moss.
The rest of the walls reflected the clash of colors, but they were painted white.
It had a certain style stamped all over it.
And that style was sheer insanity.
She plopped down beside him on her kidney couch.
“I was hungry, and I didn’t wanna wait for you to cook,” he told her.
“I’m never gonna cook for you,” she muttered.
She was totally going to have ample opportunity to cook for him.
Just not that night.
“Babe.”
“What?” she asked, glaring at the coffee table.
“Babe,” he repeated.
She looked at him. “What?”
“This situation gets done, my dad wants me to take over the Club.”
Her lips parted and her eyes got big.
He loved it that she got how massive that was.
“Really?” she breathed.
Yeah, she got how massive it was.
“Yep.”
“Isn’t that, like . . . huge?” she asked.
“Considering we had the sit down a few months after Playboy was born, when Dad explained to me why he and Ty-Ty were changing their paperwork so Tab and Shy’d raise Ride and Cut if something happened to them, instead of Hop and Lanie doin’ it, so I didn’t get that honor, it’s the biggest thing he’s ever asked of me or could ask of me.”
“How long has your dad been in charge?”
“Over two decades.”
Her hand came out to rest on his abs as she whispered through a smile, “Wow, honey.”
“That vote comes, Rebel, I’m gonna do it.”
“Of course you are.”
Jesus, that came easy.
He stared at her.
“A lotta pressure for a guy your age, but you’re like, twenty-nine going on one hundred and fifty,” she stated. “Your inner child has a white beard and carries a staff. He’s totally Gandalf the White. Except hotter.”
He had to laugh, then he had to stop because she had to get what he was saying.
“This works with us, you’re gonna have to put up with that.”
“Put up with what?”
“I’m gonna hafta be on top of the business. I’m gonna hafta be on top of everything that has to do with the Club. A brother’s got a beef, I’m gonna need to get involved. We got four other charters, we’re the mother charter, they fuck up, got a question, a dispute, that’ll be on me too. And we’re growin’. We’re thinkin’ Pueblo, Durango, Telluride, Aspen, Steamboat Springs. Not all at once, but all of that eventually. That’s not just new stores and garages. Brothers run those shops. That’s new recruits and new charters.”
“And?” she asked when he quit talking.
“That’s a lot of responsibility, baby.”