“What’s goin’ on?” he asked.
Tack turned to him. “Cops got an anonymous phone call yesterday identifying those skulls as Crank’s, the other one Tyrone Spader, the man the police suspected of killing Black.”
Rush could not believe this shit.
“Valenzuela?” he asked.
Tack shook his head. “This stinks more like Chew.”
Rush glanced back to the forecourt before turning his attention again at his dad.
“Mitch and Slim didn’t look happy,” Rush noted.
“That’s more about the fact they know we took those two out, and they’re not fans of that,” Tack said. “But both of them were done before DNA matching was prevalent, so they don’t have any on file to confirm the IDs. Neither had kids. Crank’s ex hated him almost more than we did, think she burned everything that was his after he was taken out. But both have relatives. They could find them, take some DNA, make IDs that way. The issue with that is, even if they do, and they can tie them both to the Club with motive, there’s nothing else they got and nothing else to get. They can’t even know who to press charges against. The only brothers out are the brothers who weren’t in back then. They now know who’s dead. But it ends there.”
“That’s it? It ends there?” Rush asked.
“Mitch and Slim say we can expect to have search warrants served, Ride, Compound, probably our homes,” Tack replied.
“Shit,” Rush muttered.
“Nothin’ to find, Rush. A waste of everyone’s time,” his father assured.
“In other words, Chew did this to be a nuisance,” Rush remarked.
“In other words, yeah,” Tack replied. “That.”
“What a tool,” Rush muttered.
“Lawson and Slim gonna get over it?” High asked, having been briefed through murmurs while Tack and Rush were talking.
“Not thinkin’ this is a huge surprise for them. Havin’ it confirmed doesn’t make them happy, but they know what they’re dealing with.” He looked around his brothers. “Now let’s not give Chew what he wants from this. Wasting our time. We got a meet. Everyone’s got their job. We need to roll out.”
Rush turned in order to do that, but he stopped when Hop caught him by the shoulder.
He looked into his brother’s eyes.
He got a squeeze, and that was it.
Hop moved away.
But the minute he did, Hound moved in to do the same thing.
That was when the heat started to drift through Rush.
Hound let go, High moved in.
The old guard done, Shy moved in.
Then Snap.
The same weight landing on his shoulder, the same eye contact.
They knew he was sitting that meet with his father, they knew why, and they were all in.
Rush felt that heat remain, warming him through along with a weird sensation in his throat as he moved to his bike.
Both were sheer beauty.
He swung on his bike. Fired it up.
And then Chaos rolled out.
When they arrived, Ally Nightingale, Hank and Lee’s little sister, was in the conference room of her private investigations offices chatting with Knight, Rhash and Daisy Sloan, Ally’s receptionist, but more importantly on the Denver scene, Marcus Sloan’s wife.
Ally had her feet up on the table, ankles on those long legs crossed, a pair of high-heeled shoes on her feet even the most committed man would feel in his dick, and she was laughing her ass off.
She was older than Rush, taken, as in married with children, but if she wasn’t and there was no Rebel, she’d have been his type (barring the fact she was a brunette) and he’d have gone for a go. Ballsy. Smart. Knew what she wanted. Badass. And she had a heart bigger than Colorado.
The minute his father and Rush walked in, her eyes came to them.
“Have you seen it?” she asked.
“What?” Tack asked back.
“Valenzuela’s sex tape.”
Rush felt donuts grumble in his gut.
“Not yet,” Tack answered.
“It . . . is . . . priceless. I sent a choice snippet to Luke’s phone,” she shared, lifting up her cell in her hand. “He said he’s not talking to me for a year.”
Rush chuckled, though he thought she got off easy. Luke Stark, Lee’s righthand man, seeing that, could have threatened much worse and carried it through.
Knight got up with a smile on his face to shake Tack’s hand, then his eyes came to Rush. He did a thorough scan, read the situation, and the smile was different when he took Rush’s hand.
Rush held his eyes, returned the firm grip and let go.
“Good to see we can hit a meet that’s gonna include Valenzuela with a smile,” Rush muttered.
“Dawn of a new day, my man,” Knight replied.
“Marcus and me made a sex tape,” Daisy shared as she got up, and Tack and Rush shook Rhash’s hand. “Though, that gets out, it’ll make my honey bunches of love even more of a legend.”
That might be true.
Rush still didn’t want to see it.
“Have fun dethroning the pretender,” Daisy bid as she strolled out on her own brand of fuck-me shoes, but hers would be proudly worn by a stripper.
“You guys want coffee?” Ally offered, pulling her heels from the table. “We’ll DoorDash some from Fortnum’s. Tex hates DoorDash. He’ll have something to bitch about. It’ll make his day.”
“Not sure we’ll be here that long,” Tack replied, taking a seat.
Rush took a seat at his side.
Ally got up. “Righty ho then, boys. Have fun.”
And with that, she strutted out.
“You got the tape?” Tack asked Knight when the door closed on her.
“It was messengered this morning to my office,” Knight answered.
“You share it with Ally?” Tack went on, pulling his phone out of his pocket.
“Too good not to share,” Knight replied. “Though that depends on you understanding the various nuances of the words ‘too good.’”
Rush watched his dad’s lips twitch as he hit his screen then put his phone to his ear.
It didn’t take long before he was saying into it, “Red? You’re gonna get a messenger delivery. You can open it, but trust me, you don’t wanna play it.”
He paused, grinned.
Then, “Yeah, baby. Love you too. Later.”
He took the phone from his ear just as a voice came from a box on the table.
“Showtime, badasses,” Daisy said through it.
They all looked out the wall of windows.
Valenzuela came in, looking dapper, his usual, and pissed as fuck, not his usual. They’d gotten mostly smug with healthy sides of superior and asshole for years.
Rush fought breaking out in a huge motherfucking smile.
This was going to be righteous.
But Valenzuela had no man with him.
“No second?” Rush muttered.
“Sixx is meticulous,” his dad muttered back.
Jesus.
Serious respect for that woman.
Daisy made a show of letting Valenzuela in the conference room.
He didn’t even glance at her as he stalked to the table, sat at the head and barely made eye contact with a single man in the room.
“I’m sure you all will be gratified to know I’ll be exploring prospects outside Denver for the foreseeable future,” he declared, now deciding to scowl between the men, as if winning a staring contest would bolster his flattened rep.
He took a lot of time doing this, which was annoying.
Finally, he settled on Tack. “I’m having the paperwork drawn up. You’ll have to sign it and I’ll leave you to deal with the titling agencies. But by the end of the week, my production facilities will be switched into the hands of Ride LLC.”
“Say what?” Tack rumbled.
Valenzuela’s gaze had drifted away, but at Tack’s words he focused on him again. “I’m deeding Luxe Films and Bang Productions to the Chaos MC.”
Tack swung his head to Rush.
Rush shrugged his shoulders.
Tack swung his head back to Valenzuela.
“Wanna tell me why you’re doin’ that?” Tack asked.
“A gesture,” Valenzuela forced through his teeth, “of restitution for any trouble I’ve caused.”
Sixx.
And D.
And Maddox.
Holy fuck.
“Chaos doesn’t wanna get into the porn trade,” Tack told him.
“They’re moneymakers,” Valenzuela shared tightly. “Particularly Luxe.”
“I’ll repeat,” Tack said. “Chaos doesn’t want anything to do with the porn trade.”
“Then don’t produce porn,” Valenzuela spat. “Sell the equipment and the buildings. I don’t care.”
That last was a lie.
He cared a lot.
Fuck, this was totally righteous.
“We don’t want shit to do—” Tack started.
“Dad,” Rush said low.
Tack swung his head back to Rush.
Rush gave him a look that said, Rebel.
And this was about Rebel.
This was about Sixx and D and Maddox giving Rebel a huge fucking present.
“Right,” Tack murmured. Back to Valenzuela. “Lookin’ forward to that paperwork.”
Valenzuela made a move with his head that looked like a spasm.
Rush clenched his jaw to stop from laughing.
Valenzuela moved to stand. “Now I think we’re done.” He dipped his chin. “Gentlemen.”
“A second, Benito,” Knight called.
Valenzuela paused.
“You got a delivery to make. Mamá Nana’s. By noon tomorrow,” Knight told him.
This made Valenzuela look sick to his stomach.
“Consider it done,” he bit out.