Kristen Ashley - Own the Wind

He certainly did that.

“Peggy thought it was a hoot,” I shared. “I didn’t know she was so bloodthirsty. She told everyone about it. She’s dying to know what happened.”

Shy was speaking with humor now when he said, “Least somebody got off on it.”

“Yeah,” I mumbled.

Shy again went quiet and I did too, tipping my chin to stare at the TV.

My body was settling deeper into his, relaxing when Shy asked softly, “We good?”

I slid my arm around him, tucking it tight and I replied just as softly, “Yeah, we’re good.”

“Good,” he murmured.

Again, I sighed.

There it was. No going back. I just went through the unofficial ceremony.

I was an old lady.

Just like with anything in life, there was good and bad. To get the former, you put up with the latter. So I decided, bottom line, Dr. Dickhead was clearly not going to mess with me anymore, and although the path to that eventuality was not paved with stuff that made me want to do cartwheels, that journey, at least, was over.

Minutes slid by as this settled deep before Shy called, “Sugar?”

“Yeah,” I answered, now sounding drowsy, and this wasn’t a surprise. Two beers, Lincoln’s for dinner, Dad’s wisdom, and a life epiphany were a great recipe for a good night’s sleep.

“Got a lock on a house.”

I blinked, suddenly not even close to drowsy. I lifted my head and looked at him. “Pardon?”

His chin was dipped down so his eyes were on me. “Got a lock on a house. In Englewood. Little bungalow. Big yard. Three bedrooms. Great deck. Two-car garage, big enough to fit both our vehicles and my bike. I wanna take you to have a look at it.”

“Like… to buy?” I asked.

“Yeah,” he answered.

“Um… I don’t have—”

“I do.”

“A down payment?”

“Yeah, and enough left over to get some shit, make one bedroom an office, another a guest room for when Lan comes up, deck furniture, a grill. The fridge isn’t all that great, so we’ll get a new one.”

“Shy, I—”

“This place is too small,” he told me.

He wasn’t wrong about that. I liked our togetherness though, in my apartment, it was kind of a forced togetherness. It must be said, it was also time for both of us to move up accommodation-wise. I was a nurse. He was essentially a partner in a highly successful business venture. There was no reason we weren’t looking to be on the property ladder and no excuse for us not to be in something that was nicer. Furthermore, he was never at his apartment and essentially kept it so Lan could sleep there when he came to visit, which was a total waste of money.

“Okay,” I said softly, and he grinned.

“Okay.”

Then he lifted his head and touched his mouth to mine.

When he settled his head back against the toss pillow, I settled my cheek back to his shoulder and aimed my eyes at the TV.

More minutes slid by and he stated offhandedly, “Haven’t had a home in sixteen years.”

I closed my eyes tight.

I saw the boxes in his apartment. The bed in the living room. The old TV at the end of his bed. I heard his voice saying he mostly crashed at the Compound and I knew that to be true.

I opened my eyes and replied, going for offhanded but my voice was husky, “Then let’s get you a home.”

“Sounds good to me, baby,” he muttered back on another arm squeeze.

Yeah, he was right.

A home with Shy.

The opportunity to make it a good one for him.

That sounded good to me.

Blowback

Two and a half weeks later…

It was after work and I was walking to my car.

I had my mind on a bunch of things. Christmas shopping. Furniture shopping. Dinner. The fact I needed to get to the Laundromat. What Shy and I were going to do with Rider and Cut that weekend, since we were watching them because Tyra and Dad were heading off to someplace in the mountains for a weekend away. The conversation I’d had with my brother three days before, when he told me Dad had called a meeting and Rush was now the newest recruit for Chaos. I was elated about this, but Rush still seemed conflicted, though he didn’t share. What he did do (surprisingly) was go off for a beer with Shy.

When Shy came back, he didn’t share either but he did say, “He’s close. Lives the life, not the edge of it, he’ll get closer.”

I decided to leave it at that, since the way Shy said that meant I needed to leave it at that.

I’d also viewed the bungalow that Shy had scouted for us and, unfortunately, I didn’t like it. Mostly because the bedrooms were too small, it didn’t have a master bath, and I just didn’t like the feel of it because it didn’t have stairs. It didn’t even have a basement.

I shared this with Shy and he didn’t get pissed.

He just pulled me to him and said against the top of my hair, “Needs to be right for the both of us, honey.”

So totally loved my man.

Even though the first place didn’t work out, I was now on a mission to make Shy a home, so I spent every available minute looking at places online.

Shy clearly was on the same mission since he came home last week saying he’d scouted two more places. I looked up their pictures on the Internet. They looked awesome, so we didn’t delay in going to see them.

The bad news was, I loved the first one but Shy hated it, and even at that early juncture, I had begun to despair we wouldn’t find a happy medium.

The fantastic news was, we both totally dug the second one. It was perfect. So we put an offer in. Shy negotiated like he bought houses for a living, we got a good price, and we put the deposit down.

All was a go.

I was totally excited.

Shy was too, I could tell. It was badass-biker excited but it was still excited.

I was also excited about Christmas. I loved Christmas, loved it more when I had two little brothers to buy for, and now I had a feeling I was totally going to love giving Christmas to Shy.

It went without saying that since life wasn’t good at his bitchy aunt’s house, Christmases weren’t much better. So I got to give something for Christmas, not only to Shy but also to Lan, that they hadn’t had in a long time.

Real, honest-to-goodness family.

These were my happy thoughts as I settled in my car, and I was about to start her up when my phone rang. I pulled it out of my purse and took the call.

“Hey, darlin’,” I greeted Shy.

“Where are you?”

My stomach dropped.

He sounded pissed.

No, strike that, he sounded furious.

“In my car, ready to drive home,” I told him cautiously. “Is everything okay?”

“Drive to the Compound, babe,” he ordered, paused a scary pause then finished, “Now,” and hung up.

I looked at my phone wondering what on earth was happening. He didn’t sound furious as in, furious in general or furious at someone else.

He sounded furious at me.

I didn’t get this. Things were good. I hadn’t done anything that I could think of that would make him angry or not that angry. Since the big to-do with Shy and the boys over beating up Dr. Dickhead, all was cool.

I mean, we did have that conversation about how I really wished he’d put the seat down (and the lid) on the toilet but he’d grinned through that, and since then, only once (yeah, I counted) he left the seat up.

He listened. He got me. He made an effort. So it couldn’t be that. And anyway, if Shy was that pissed about the toilet seat, then I’d put the danged thing down myself.

As I started my baby up with shaking hands, my mind moving feverishly, I couldn’t think of anything it could be.

I drove carefully to the Compound, considering I was freaking and although I wasn’t all fired up to find out how I’d ticked Shy off so royally, I wanted to figure it out and move on.

I turned into Ride, drove through the forecourt and parked outside the Compound seeing there were a goodly number of bikes there, which was surprising. The boys tended to be busy, out and about, not all of them at the Compound at once unless they had to be. It was like they were having a meeting and instinctively I did not see this as a good sign.

I also saw a big, black, shiny Ford Explorer.

Tyra’s car, however, was not to be seen.

I didn’t take this as a good sign either. Tyra should be at work, unless she was told, for some reason, to clear out.

I got out of my car and moved toward the Compound, hoping, if Shy had words for me, he’d take me to his room rather than lighting into me in front of the guys. That would only serve to piss me off, and I had a feeling one of us needed to be calm.

I walked in and saw I was right. The boys were all there.

All of them.

I stopped dead when I realized, possibly, though it had to be said I didn’t get it, why Shy was ticked.

Lee Nightingale was standing in the middle of the room.

Although I’d had my conversation with Natalie about hiring Lee Nightingale and his team of badasses to find Shy’s parents’ killer and was rethinking things, I still took the meeting mostly because it took so long to get it in the first place, and if I changed my mind back, I didn’t want to wait another six weeks.

The meeting with Nightingale verified all my worries. Lee Nightingale and his team cost a lot, and not just hourly. They also charged expenses.

That said, I was there so I sallied forth, gave him my story and his face got kinda scary. He then told me he knew my dad, knew Shy, and he’d “look into shit” (his words). I told him I wasn’t comfortable with him “looking into shit” unless I paid him. So we made a deal. I gave him a retainer which was the totality of my savings, and that wasn’t dinky. I’d been putting money in and not taking it out since Dad took me to the bank to set up my savings account when I was eleven. I’d meant to use it to help set up the house I would share with Jason, which didn’t come about. I then lamented losing it because it would have helped with the down payment on the house I bought with Shy and I would have felt better, doing my part. Alas, by then, it was gone.

So we made our deal, Lee told me they’d look into shit, keep track of time and expenses, and call me when the money ran out.

Not surprisingly, since the case was very cold, ages ago he’d called me and told me the money had run out.

Therefore, I thought it was over. It was disappointing and perhaps a stupid waste of money, but I held onto the fact that I tried to do something important for Shy, something huge, even though it didn’t work out and he’d never know I did it.

Now, taking in the room, the vibe, all of the angry eyes on me, including Shy’s, I had a feeling he knew.

I just didn’t understand why Shy, and everyone, was so freaking angry.

“You forget to tell me somethin’, babe?” Shy asked when I came to an uncertain halt.

“Uh…” My eyes slid to Lee Nightingale, who looked scary but he kinda was that way normally. He was just one of those men who gave off the vibe you didn’t mess with him. This didn’t take away from the fact that he was tall, dark, built, and seriously hot. He was still scary. My eyes went back to Shy. “Not really.”

His eyes narrowed on me. “Not really?”

That was the wrong answer, I could tell.

“Well, um… no. I mean, obviously you know I hired Lee to, uh… look into things, which, by the way”—I chanced a disapproving look at Nightingale hoping he wouldn’t take offense“—I thought was confidential.”

“Shit went down, wasn’t on your dime. If you’re not paying, it’s not your case, you’re not my client, so it’s no longer confidential,” Lee explained to me, and that made sense. It sucked with Shy’s present mood but it made sense.

“You hired him to find that motherfucker,” Shy pushed into our conversation and I looked back at him.

“Yeah,” I said quietly. “But—”

“Wound like that never closes, you tear it wider? What the fuck, Tabby?” Shy bit out.

His words slashed through me.

That wasn’t what I was trying to do. He had to know that.

“I thought I was—” I started but didn’t finish.

“You thought you were what?” Shy clipped, his words harsh, coming from someplace ugly.

A place he’d clearly been keeping locked down and I’d inadvertently opened.

God, why hadn’t I listened to Natalie when she told me not to hire Lee Nightingale?