Blood & Bones: Sig (Blood Fury MC 2)

But he heard it.

And, yeah, Sig saw her. He’d never be able to un-see her.

Naked and bloody, her distorted face swollen and split. Sig wasn’t sure if she was still breathing.

“Ain’t nothin’ but filthy snatch. Here’s a lesson for ya, don’t make a cunt like that your ol’ lady, kid.”

His father spun on his boot and Sig never saw him again.

It wasn’t until a few days later, he discovered he had witnessed the man he thought was his father shoot the man who turned out to be his real father point-blank. That was also when he agreed with Razor’s opinion his mother was no better than a lying, cheating whore.

It wasn’t until a few days later, the whole club imploded. Just like his family.

Ox, the club’s enforcer, shot Razor dead right between the eyes. Then another member tried to take out Ox and failed.

When they thought things couldn’t get worse, they did.

Brothers became enemies. Family became strangers.

And his best friend became blood.

Only by then, once he found out Trip was his half-brother, his best friend was long gone.

Chapter One

The glow of the lantern sitting on the ground created a small circle of light around them.

Sig gave Rebecca a smile while she coyly turned her eyes downward and only gave him a shy one back.

It was all a bullshit act.

But to get what he came for, he played the fucking game.

And in the end, it was always worth it.

The eighteen-year-old stood wringing her hands, while her dirty bare feet twisted nervously under her long, plain blue dress.

That dress did nothing for her curves. He knew because he’d seen those curves without that ugly-ass dress quite a few times. But the dress was necessary, not for their little game, but because she was required to wear it.

Dresses like that were all she owned.

Just like she was required to wear that fucking black “kapp” on her head, covering her blonde hair that, when he ripped the pins out, almost fell to her waist.

He also knew the carpet matched the drapes. And it was thick fucking carpet, too.

This two a.m. meet had become a regular thing. Him parking his sled off the road in a nearby field so his loud exhaust wouldn’t wake her family, then hoofing it through the dark to the barn, using only the glow of his cell phone to make sure he didn’t break his goddamn neck.

Because she was still in the midst of rumspringa, she also had a cell phone of her own. She hid it from her family but used it to text him whenever she was in the mood to play.

She was in the mood to play tonight.

He was in the mood to play with her.

Especially since rumspringa was almost over for her and she had to decide if she would stay in her community and marry the man her parents wanted her to, or leave. So right now, she was texting Sig often.

She had caught his eye when she accompanied her friends delivering their family’s goods to The Barn, the Fury’s new church. The local Amish families kept the MC supplied with a lot of shit. Eggs, milk and the like, along with keeping them flush with tobacco and hand-rolled cigarettes.

If they only grew pot like they did tobacco, the MC would be in pig fucking heaven.

But instead of growing weed, they grew women like Rebecca. Innocent looking on the outside, dirty little whores on the inside.

Rumspringa was their chance to go wild. Sow those fucking wild oats.

And Rebecca was a ho, not of the tool variety.

He didn’t have to chase her because she chased him. And, without a fucking fight, he let himself get caught. Because pussy was pussy, whether it was Amish or “English.” He wasn’t that fucking picky as long as it was young and fresh.

And Becky couldn’t get any more farm fresh. Only she wasn’t giving up that ready-to-pick cherry. Not to Sig.

“When you gonna give me that pussy?”

She rolled her eyes at the question he asked every time they got together to play. “You know I’m saving it for my husband.”

“Never thought you plain women would be such dirty ‘lil sluts.”

“I’m not a slut. I’m sweet and innocent.” She flashed her big baby blues at him and gave him a smile that was far from fucking innocent.

That meant it was time to play.

“That fuckin’ sin sifter on your head don’t help keep you from lyin’ or sinnin’, does it?” Sig took a step closer, his palm sliding down the hard-on under his jeans.

“No. I’ve been bad.”

Oh yeah. “What’d you do this time?”

“I talked back to my daddy.”

“Your daddy don’t like it when you talk back, now does he?”

“No,” she answered with a slight shake.

It wasn’t from fear, fuck no. It was from excitement. Her flawless ivory skin was now flushed, her eyes heated, her lips parted, her little slut tongue slipped over her plump bottom lip. Then she grabbed that lip between her teeth, biting down hard.