C Springs or Boulder or Grand Junction got their wiper blades anywhere else. It was whacked.
And they’d found that brother, the one called Joker, who was a master at custom bike and muscle car design. Got themselves a spread in a goddamn, up-its-own-ass magazine, for fuck’s sake. In it, a picture of all the brothers spread out around a kickass chopper, looking badass and total cool.
They were making money hand over fist with that shit.
No guns. No whores. No dope.
Clean and clear and good and right.
Fuck.
He’d worked hard at it. Earned it through sweat and blood and loss and brotherhood.
And he and that skank were up in their mountain home, raising two boys, that bitch shimmying around Ride in her tight skirts like she ran the fucking joint.
That was Naomi’s.
It should have all been hers.
Now Chew—that asswipe piece of shit . . .
She bet Tack didn’t see that asshole coming.
Then again, Naomi wouldn’t have called that either. Never would have thought Chew would have the balls for it.
She was wrong.
And the only thing that made her lips twitch was that Tack hadn’t called it.
But now women were getting dead.
Reb.
That bitch was hard as nails and about as fun to be around as typhoid, so Naomi liked her.
Shot in the face.
By Chew.
Jesus.
Naomi closed her eyes but opened them again when her ex-husband filled her vision.
She remembered.
She remembered the beginning. Seeing him. That ass. Those blue eyes.
It had all been tequila and downing beers and smoking weed and fucking each other blind and good times and crazy parties and piles of money.
And then . . .
She would never forget, not ever, the look on that man’s face when she’d told him she was carrying Rush.
God.
Joy.
Pure joy.
And when she’d pushed their son out?
Fuck.
Really, she’d lost him then. The minute he held Rush in his arms.
But then came Tabitha.
More joy.
Even Tabitha coming right after Tack’s sister ODed. ODed under his watch.
But a little girl?
Tack was lost.
Lost to Naomi forever.
She remembered.
She remembered calling his name when he first held his baby girl, his fingers wrapped around her little baby throat like it was him making her pulse beat, not Naomi who gave that kid life.
He didn’t even look at her.
It was like she’d disappeared.
He was lost.
He had his son and he had his baby girl, and so he had it all.
Where was she in that mix?
She’d wanted what she should get.
His cock, his attention (all of it) and his money.
Really, kids grew up. Moved out.
It was her that should be his life.
Her.
But it wasn’t her. It was his kids. His little girl. Cleaning up the Club. Taking over.
He just couldn’t rest easy and let things lie.
It had been good. Fucking great.
Why did he have to fuck with a good thing?
She’d gone back to Tack’s name after her second husband, that deadbeat loser, bit it. She did it so Tack would hear about it and get pissed, or that stupid cunt he married would hear about it and get livid.
If he even knew, he didn’t care. Or if she knew, she didn’t care either. Naomi hadn’t heard word one about it and she spread that news wide.
They probably didn’t think about her at all, Tack so busy raising his second family and fucking his bitch and making tons of dough.
Now he wanted her to come down to Denver so he could say to Rush, to fucking Tabby, that he was looking after their mother?
Fuck him.
She could look after herself.
“Yeah, fuck yeah,” she spat. “I can look after my fuckin’ self.”
So she couldn’t move that shitty sofa in her storage unit alone.
She’d find some guy’s cock to suck, give it to him good, and before he spurted the last of his cum, she’d tell him he was helping her move and he should bring a friend.
First, she had to find an apartment.
She’d take the day off and find a place. She didn’t care where she lived, anywhere was better than here.
“I can take care of my own fuckin’ self,” she whispered, staring at her phone but seeing her ex-husband.
Remembering.
Remembering that joy in his face when she told him she was carrying Rush.
And trying not to remember that it lasted a split second before she was in his arms, he was twirling her, goddamn twirling her, his face shoved in her neck, holding her so tight, making her feel precious, making her feel like she was about to hand him the whole world.
“Thank you, baby,” he’d whispered in that rough voice of his. “Fuck, fuck, thank you, baby.