Page 49 of Property of Chaos

“It’s all I can do,” I sass. “Imagine. Since he’s six-foot under.” I flat-palm Matthias’s shoulder, shoving him out of the way. “If you want to discuss opinions, how about you tell me what your wife thinks about this bullshit. Amy’s home, right?” I march toward his front door.

Matthias scrambles after me, attempting to get between me and the entrance.

I block him with a raised forearm and twist the handle, shunting the flat wood panel open. “Honey! We’re home.”

“Get the fuck out of my house.” Matthias’s grubby little hands get purchase on my shoulders from behind, jerking me off balance.

He’s torn away by Crow and shoved against the entrance wall.

“You welcomedyourshit intomyhome,” I growl, taking a step toward where he stands pinned like a bug. “And you think I’d fuckin’ respect the boundaries of yours?” I spin toward the back of the house. “You here, Amy?”

“You touch her?—“

“You think that low of me?” I glance over my shoulder, noting the feral look in my treasurer’s eyes as he runs a finger between Matthias’s eyes and down his nose.

“Get your fuckin’ hands off me.” Our ex-business partner thrashes against the giant’s hold.

I leave them to play and start searching the rooms. “Where you at, girl?”

“What the hell’s going on?” Amy emerges from the laundry, washing basket clutched against her hip. Her gaze slices to her husband, restrained against their wall. A sigh makes her shoulders droop. “What’s he done?”

“He not keeping you up to speed on business?” I lean a shoulder against the doorframe opposite and fold my arms.

“I know he’s been taking calls all fucking hours,” she snaps. “So I assumed things were a little dicey.”

I love Amy. She’s a hard woman. Small and built like a titan, she spends half her time at the local CrossFit gym practicing lifting her husband’s dead weight should the time come. If the asshole hadn’t got her pregnant, she’d probably be an old lady by now; I know more than a few brothers who appreciate a headstrong woman.

“What’s going on with the Devil’s Breed?” I ask, narrowing my gaze. “Thought you guys sorted that shit out?”

She steps back and slaps the laundry basket on the counter before returning to the hallway and glaring at her husband. “You said you’d worked things through with Manic.”

A.K.A James. Her brother.

The reason why she kept away from the Kings. Didn’t want to start beef by aligning herself with a rival club to her brother’s.

“I did,” Matthias gripes. “He said he’d let me pay him back in installments, but then the fucker turned up demanding interest as well. So I told him to get fucked, and he came after the goddamn business.” His pitch rises. “How the fuck am I supposed to pay him back if he takes away my income?”

“How the fuck should I know?” Amy yells. “Perhaps you could have tried not betting more than you had!”

“This is all because you fucking gambled with the asshole?” I call out.

Matthias shrugs. “I thought I was on a streak. It should have paid off.”

“You fucking moron.” Everyone knows you don’t play poker with the Devil’s Breed.

Twenty thousand to enter, and nobody ever walks out a winner. Nobody wants to.

You win—you owe them.

“The fuck, man?” We’ve got no hope in hell of getting our money. “Thanks for clearing that up. Ames.”

She nods. “Appreciate you coming when the kids were at school.”

“Always.” I raise my fist.

She knocks knuckles. “How much does he owe you?”

“Eighty G for a wasted shipment.”

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