his children.
Exposed.
Beat to hell.
The fury boiled.
He clamped hold on it.
“We had fun before I texted you, Naomi and me,” Chew taunted.
He was standing beside her with a gun to her head.
Tack looked to Naomi.
She could barely focus, he’d beat her so badly, but she did.
She did.
He saw it there.
Fear.
Gratitude.
And she’d made peace.
So whatever happened, he could put their kids at peace.
Or try.
But she knew.
It was her, or him.
And she was down with it being her.
He nodded even though he was going to do what he could to make that not have to happen.
“Got my cum up her snatch,” Chew told him, and Tack’s eyes moved to his former brother.
Too thin.
Hair greasy.
More years than he’d lived etched in his face.
“Yeah, we had fun, Naomi and me,” Chew sneered.
He’d raped her.
Tack stared at Chew, the last of the filth that had been Chaos, and breathed, slow and steady.
But he said nothing.
“Put your gun down,” Chew ordered.
If Tack killed him before he blew a hole in Naomi’s head, he might do time.
He would not do that to Tyra, his kids.
“Put your fucking gun down!” Chew exploded.
He had to shoot at the gun in his hand.
A gun that was close to Naomi.
“Put your motherfucking gun down!” Chew screamed.
Tack looked in Chew’s eyes.
“Right,” he spat, turned to Naomi.
Tack lifted his gun quickly.
Then Tack’s body jerked when Chew’s head exploded.
Beck
At that same moment . . .
Beck took the rifle from his shoulder.
Swung the strap there instead.
He turned from the back window of the apartment Tack went into.
And he booked.
He was in his truck, carefully driving six miles above the speed limit as he took a circuitous route out of the shitty apartment complex and another circuitous route to 36.
It was close range so it would have been lame if he’d missed.
But still.
It was really good he and his brother used to go target shooting.
Really fucking good.
His brother would be proud of that shot.
Really fucking proud.
Tack
Twenty-two minutes later . . .
“Have you lost your goddamned mind?”
“Son.”
“Have you lost your goddamned mind?”
“I need to call Red,” he said quietly.
Rush shut his mouth.
“Get to the hospital, see to your mother,” he ordered.
“You cannot even imagine how pissed I am with you,” Rush rumbled.
Tack looked among his brothers who were all standing close, illuminated by a shit ton of cop cars, their lights flashing, and he could easily imagine how pissed they all were at him.
He pulled out his phone to call his wife.
It rang in his hand.
A number he didn’t know.
Christ.
“What?” he snarled when he took the call.
“Free and clear. Chaos is free and clear. Now Resurrection and Chaos are solid, Tack,” Beck said.
Disconnect.
Jesus.
Tack stared at his phone.
“What?” Rush clipped.
Tack smiled at his phone.
“What?” Rush barked.
He ignored his son.
And called his wife.
Suffice it to say, she was pissed as shit too.
He still knew he was going to get a blowjob that would rock his world when he got home.
Because that was the way Red rolled.
Naomi
When Naomi opened her eyes, she saw a woman, her head tipped down, her red hair hiding her face, and she thought that woman was herself for a second.
But she wasn’t.
Naomi’s red had faded.
Now she had to dye it since it was all gray.
That wasn’t her sitting there.
The woman’s head came up and her blue eyes turned to Naomi.
Naomi’s own eyes were kind of fuzzy.
Hell, one she couldn’t even see out of.
Shit.
She’d survived.
Good Lord.
She’d survived.
Good God.
Tack had come and saved her.
The woman looked across the room then got up and moved to the bed.
“Hey,” she whispered, bending over Naomi. “He’s passed out. Do you mind if we let him sleep?”
Slowly, and not without pain, Naomi turned her head to see her boy sprawled in a chair right beside her.
Right beside her.
“Tab’s in the hall,” the woman went on, and Naomi’s head came back.
Faster.
And that hurt worse.
The woman’s head jerked when she got Naomi’s face.
Then hers got soft.
“She’s talking to Shy,” she shared. “He’s got Playboy. She’s checking in. She didn’t want to disturb you.”
“My baby girl is here?”
Her words were slurred. Her lips felt funny. Maybe because they were swollen all to fuck and cracked to shit.
“Yeah, Naomi, she’s here. Just down the hall. She’ll be back in in a second.”
She felt the wet glide over the swollen flesh of her eyes.
“Who’re you?” she asked.
“I’m Rebel. I’m Rush’s.”
Looking at her, all she could think was, got his daddy in him, that boy.
All Tack.
All good.
Oh God.
“I do-don’t think . . . I don’t think I can—”
“Yes, you can,” Rebel said.
Naomi shook her head. “I c-can’t be—”
“Yes,