He wouldn’t do it smiling, Tack thought. The man didn’t smile. The man had a look about him that said he never had.

This troubled Tack.

And made him believe even more it was time to bring Chaos to Carson Steele’s life.

Brothers.

Bikes.

Belonging.

And, if he was lucky, he’d find a bitch who’d lay to waste that shield Carson Steele had up and bring him bliss.

“More talk, or vote?” Tack asked the table.

“Got nothin’ to say, he’s got my vote,” Hop said.

“Had my vote when he was watchin’ from the fence,” Dog muttered.

“He’s in for me,” Boz added.

Pete, High, Arlo, Hound, and Brick weighed in the same.

As it had to be, it was unanimous when Tack grabbed the gavel and lowered it.

“Preliminary vote done, call the rest of the brothers. The vote stays true, we got ourselves a new recruit,” Tack announced.

Boz pushed back his chair, his hand to his pocket to grab his phone.

Brick leaned forward to nab the bottle of tequila. Men started shooting the shit.

Tack felt Dog’s eyes and looked to the man sitting to his right.

“Warm, red blood flows in Chaos veins, brother,” Dog said quietly. “That boy’s got nothin’ but ice. Stone cold.”

“We’ll see,” Tack replied.

“We will but we got problems, Tack, the kind that get solved with loyalty, balls, and fire. Lived a fair bit a’ life. Done a lot. Seen a lot more. Still, I’d check I had my blade and my gun, I ran up against that guy in a bad mood in a dark alley. So I reckon he’s got the balls. But not sure he’s got the other two in him.”

“Time will tell,” Tack muttered.

“Boy’s got secrets,” Dog muttered back.

“Boy’s never had one thing in his life he wanted,” Tack replied. “We’re givin’ him that. First time. He’s twenty-fuckin’-five. First time, Dog. Now, we’ll see how that plays.”

“Brother’s got dark in him he don’t bother to hide, secrets he doesn’t share. With the problems we got, Tack, that makes me uneasy,” Dog stated.

“Had the vote, Dog, you had a problem, you should have opened your mouth,” Tack returned.

Dog shook his head. “Saw that kid watch us, just like you. Shoulda done something then. Don’t have it in me to turn him away now.”

“No one who doesn’t have fire walks three miles to watch men work on cars, Dog. And he wasn’t at that fence watchin’ men work on cars. He was at the shop window, empty pockets, face pressed to the glass, starin’ at what he wanted but couldn’t have. I’ll wager, to survive, he’s banked that fire. We gotta help him direct it and make sure if it flares bright, it doesn’t burn him out.”