But for Tab, for Shy, for family, every man was there.

Tack and the Club hitting a porno set in the dead of night, demanding the actress who was meant to make her debut, and outing fucking Elvira—who had absolutely no fucking business being there undercover for some shit Hawk Delgado was working—did not go over big with Benito. Things got heated. Tack sent Elvira out for her own protection and he also sent away the Chaos recruits because they didn’t need this experience. Not yet.

Things got more heated after that, and one of Benito’s men jumped the gun.

Literally.

“Tack—” Benito started.

“Your man fuckin’ fired,” Hop clipped.

“Warning shot, he was closing in,” Benito returned, jerking his head Shy’s way. “It was a ricochet. He meant no harm.”

“I don’t give a fuck. My brother is bleeding and your man fired,” Tack snarled. “And for once in your life, seein’ as we got this many armed men in a faceoff, pay attention. He was approaching me.”

“I will remind you, you were not invited to this party,” Benito bit back.

“And I’ll repeat what I’ve said five fuckin’ times. Chaos will cover her debt. She’s family. We agreed a long fuckin’ time ago, man, family is off-limits,” Tack returned.

“Not when they owe me a great deal of money,” Benito shot back.

“Jesus, are you listening? Chaos is covering her debt,” Tack replied.

“I prefer my method of payment,” Benito retorted.

“That is not gonna happen. Con one of your other junkies into eatin’ pussy for payback. This girl belongs to Chaos,” Tack bit out.

Benito leaned toward Tack, his face twisting in anger. “She is not family. She is not blood or old lady. You lay claim to pussy on a whim, you can claim any-fuckin’-body. You do that, no rules and anything goes.”

The entire room, already tense, went electric. They all knew what that meant.

If it came to war, Benito would play dirty, and it would not just be the brothers in the trenches.

Hop came out of his crouch, strode directly to Benito. He was concentrating on Tack so he reacted to the advancing threat too late.

Hop had disarmed him and had his hand curled around Benito’s throat, shoving him back with speed and force so when he hit the hospital bed, he went down on it on his back. Hop kept squeezing as he put his gun to Benito’s temple and listened vaguely to the scuffling maneuvers of the men around him who became antsy after a direct attack on Benito.

“Those rules never change,” Hop declared. “Your beef is with Chaos, motherfucker. Any member of our family even fuckin’ shivers ’cause they feel you close, you’re eating my bullet.”

Benito held his eyes but called out, “Tack, call off your dog.”

“Say you get me,” Hop growled.

“You’re making a mistake,” Benito hissed.

“Say. You. Get. Me,” Hop ground out.

He felt a presence and knew it was Tack before Tack spoke.

“I suggest you say you get him, man, ’cause you pull family into this shit you’re stirrin’, swear to fuckin’ God, you won’t eat Hop’s bullet ’cause that would be too quick. I’ll skin you alive, Benito. Do not mistake me. You harm any member of my family, and by that I mean all of Chaos, inch by inch you’ll bleed and scream.”

Benito’s eyes were aimed over Hop’s shoulder at Tack. He made a noise low in his throat before he looked at Hop and snapped, “I get you.”

Hop instantly let him go and took two steps away.

Benito scrambled off the bed and faced Hop. “You just declared war.”

“Motherfucker. Seriously?” Hop asked. “My brother’s bleedin’. No paper signed but you spill Chaos blood, you do not come out of that shit unscathed. We had war five minutes ago.”

“Five square miles,” Tack cut in and Benito looked to him. “I do not get it. You can have all of Denver—it sucks, but you can have it—no Chaos beef. All you gotta stay clear of is five fuckin’ miles. What is it with you?”

“You can’t claim what isn’t yours,” Benito returned.

“Your crew has been workin’ Denver for seven years, motherfucker. Chaos claimed that territory fuckin’ decades ago. How is it not ours?”

“Nothing is yours, you can’t protect it,” Benito retorted and Tack shook his head.

“Man, trust me, Chaos lore is watered down. I get, you keepin’ this shit up, you think we’re no threat but, hear me, you do not wanna go to war with us,” Tack advised.

“Soft,” Benito whispered, his eyes lighting in a freaky way Hop did not like. “Everyone knows, you got out of the trade, you all went soft.”

“I see you don’t get this, seein’ as you probably only get off jackin’ off on a mountain of twenty-dollar bills, but a man protecting his home never goes soft.”

“We’ll see,” Benito replied.

“No, we’ll see,” Tack fired back. “You and your boys do this, you’ll be under dirt so you won’t see shit.”

Benito grinned.

Tack turned his eyes to Hop and shook his head.

Then he moved to exit while ordering, “Chaos, mount up.”

The brothers moved out.

Tack tagged Shy and Hop on their way to the bikes. “Meet. Early. I’m callin’ in the boys.”

Hop jerked his chin up. He knew what Tack meant. He wasn’t wasting time calling in reinforcements, and by that he meant Hawk Delgado, Brock Lucas, and Mitch Lawson.

Commandos and cops.

Benito should have listened.

After years undercover with the DEA, Brock Lucas knew the bowels of Denver like the back of his hand. Living with filth, to survive, he’d learned to embrace the wild inside. He might be married to a pretty baker who made unbelievably good cupcakes, and they were raising two boys, but he was still good with getting in touch with his wild side.

Mitch Lawson had proved without doubt that no matter how clean a cop he was, he had Chaos’s back. He was cautious but far from dumb, and willing to go the distance, therefore a worthy ally and a surprisingly scary adversary.

And it was debatable but Hawk Delgado might be a functioning lunatic. But he got the job done, no matter how nasty that job might be. He didn’t mind mess while doing it and he had an army of commandos at his back. He paid them well, but he earned their loyalty another way and every one of them would lay down their lives for their leader.

Tack’s eyes locked on Shy. “You and me now, to Baldy.”

Shy nodded.

Baldy was a biker and a doctor. He would be in a Club if he had the time. Seeing as he took cash for his services and the underbelly of Denver found themselves in need of a physician more than occasionally, he didn’t have the time.

Shy gave Hop a handshake then headed to his bike.

Hop waylaid Tack.

“He touches family, brother, you won’t get your chance to skin him,” Hop warned. “Lanie never again feels fear. Not like that.”

“I think he got that message,” Tack replied.

“Hope he did, Tack. Swear to Christ, he didn’t—”

Tack lifted a hand and curled his fingers around Hop’s shoulder. “Calm. Patience. Natalie wasn’t Chaos until we claimed her, so he isn’t wrong to be pissed. We’ll pay the money which is all he cares about, he’ll fall back and when he strikes, it won’t be courting Armageddon. He’s greedy but he’s not stupid.”

Hop stared into his brother’s eyes. Then he did what he always did and he had never been wrong. He trusted his friend, nodded, and moved to his bike.

He had a text with the details on the meet by the time he pulled into his drive.

When he slid back into bed with his wife, she was still out.

He curled into her, pulling her close, splaying his hand on her still-flat stomach, and he pulled in a deep breath.

Smelling Lanie’s perfume, he relaxed when he let it out.

Three hours later, he woke up, rolled carefully away from his still-sleeping woman, got dressed, and headed back out.

* * *

“Lanie,” Hop muttered, using her name to tell his brothers it was time to get back to their women.

Tack turned and nodded to Hop.

“Right,” he said. “Later, brothers. Have a mind, it’s early, he won’t move this quick, but watch your backs.”

Hop nodded. Shy did too.

They swung on their bikes and roared off. They’d just had a meet with “the boys”: Tack and his two lieutenants, Hop and Shy, as well as Hawk Delgado, Mitch Lawson, and Brock Lucas. War was declared. Reinforcements had been called. They were all in.

The meeting was tense, as it would be.

Now they waited.

As they rode away, Hop shouted, “Yo!” and Shy turned his head to look at his brother.

Hop jerked his head to the side. They both rode to the shoulder, stopped, put their feet down, and Hop looked back through the buildings from where they’d come.

Tack was standing there, motionless.

He was worried.

Hop closed his eyes.

When he opened them, Hop looked to Shy to see Shy looking back at Tack.

Then Shy’s gaze came to him. “My guess, four hours ago, on a scale of one to ten of how bad this shit is, I would have said eleven. Now, I’m guessin’ twenty-three.”

“We may be at twenty-five,” Hop corrected.

Shy’s lips twitched.

This was his brother, Shy Cage. He’d never been to war but he still showed no fear.

Hop looked back to Tack to see he was moving to his bike.

“Brace, brother,” Hop advised, then said, “Let’s ride.”

Shy jerked up his chin, they put on the gas, and they rode.

* * *

“Jesus, what is this?” Hop asked as he walked into the kitchen to see his woman in an un-fucking-believably amazing pair of knit yoga pants that were loose in the right places but clung to better places, and a casual wraparound top that just clung to the right places, in other words every inch of her torso. Her hair was in a messy knot on top her head. Her face had no makeup.