“Tab’s friendly,” he said.

Tab was Tack’s daughter, the girl Shy had earned the hard way.

And Shy was right. Tabby was friendly and usually open to recruiting new sisters into her crew.

Tack looked at his brother and son-in-law.

“See if she’s recruiting.”

Shy nodded.

Tack looked at the door.

“Gone for her.”

That was Shy. He was talking about Joker.

He would know. He had the love of a good woman, gave that back.

Tack knew too. He had the same.

He looked back to Shy. “Before shit went down, he was set on icing her out.”

Shy held his eyes.

“Different cold wind blew, she got that call.”

Shy didn’t say a word.

“He doesn’t keep his shit, Shy, he’ll fuck things for her. And he doesn’t open his eyes and see butterflies, he’ll fuck things for him.”

“I’ll get on it with Rush.”

“Yeah.”

Shy nodded, pushed out of his chair and rounded the table behind Tack.

Tack watched the door close on him.

Then he let the thoughts in.

They didn’t need this shit.

They were at war. They were currently in détente, but that could change in a blink. Benito Valenzuela had a plan, he wanted Chaos turf, and he wasn’t going to sit on his hands for long.

They didn’t need this shit.

What’s it mean, get on your knees?

They were gonna take on this shit.

“Fuck,” he muttered, put his hands to the arms of his chair and folded out.

He had a woman and boys to feed, TV to watch, a wife to fuck, and sleep to sleep.

That was where his head was at.

Tomorrow, he’d see.

CHAPTER FOUR

Tasted as Good on His Tongue

Joker

THERE WAS NO ring. Just cement and a throng of bystanders who got out of the way whenever the fighters got too close.

Bare feet. Bare chest. Bare knuckles.

Joker hit him with a right hook but knew even before he threw the punch the guy would take it and go down.

With a jarring thud, he did.

The crowd roared.

Joker just stood there, staring down at him, taking deep breaths and flexing his fingers.

There was no referee. There was just a promoter, a sleaze named Monk who had a legal business running a local nightclub. But for this business he took bets and had a few of his bruisers act as crowd control and bouncers, ousting anyone who showed who didn’t lay down a bet.

So he waited until Monk wandered toward him, grabbed his hand, and lifted it.

The crowd again roared.

Joker tore his hand from Monk’s, not liking the little weasel touching him, and he turned away.

He didn’t look to the cinderblock wall, where he knew Rush and Shy were leaning, watching the action through the crowd. His brothers knew he fought underground. Rush and Shy weren’t the first to come and watch him. Hound was at nearly every fight.