Blood & Bones: Sig (Blood Fury MC 2)

“I know.”

“You wanted them to pay, shoulda dropped her off somewhere right away—the hospital, the pig pen—then let the law deal with ‘em. Had two fuckin’ easy choices right there to make them pay. It’s more than that.”

“They need to pay, Judge. Not in an easy choice type of way. But, yeah, it’s more than that.”

“Yeah.” Judge turned to stare out over the back fields. “I hear you.”

“Gonna help?”

“Go up on that mountain? Fuck no. I make a lot of money off those motherfuckers. Rather not fuck that up by havin’ them catch me up there snoopin’ the fuck around. Trip know about this stupid idea? ‘Cause he tried ridin’ up there like the Lone fuckin’ Ranger one time.”

“What d’you think?”

“Right. He don’t know.” Judge sat back in his chair and crossed his thick arms over his chest, tucking his bottom lip into his mouth and chewing on his beard.

Sig could see his mind churning. He was the club’s enforcer. If Red was Fury property, he’d be the one out looking for blood. Responsible for planning revenge. Like his father, Ox.

“If it was Ox, he’d rush up that fuckin’ mountain and plug a hole in every fuckin’ one of ‘em, includin’ women and children. He wouldn’t give a fuck. He’d want them all dead. Then torch that compound to the ground.”

Judge’s big chest, along with his crossed arms, rose and fell. “I ain’t Ox.”

“Right. Trip wants us to be smarter and stronger than them. Do shit right.”

“You think goin’ up there is doin’ shit right?”

“It’s a step to makin’ shit right.”

“For who? A woman none of us even fuckin’ knew a week ago?” Judge combed his fingers through his long beard, then again. After a long minute, he shook his head. “Such a motherfuckin’ asshole, you know that, Sig?”

“Yep.”

“They got that mountain booby-trapped. Also probably got armed rednecks keepin’ watch. Which is the reason the cops don’t fuck with ‘em unless they absolutely have to,” Judge reminded him. “And when they do, they go well prepared and with a team.”

“Yep.”

“Jesus fuck,” the Sergeant at Arms muttered, then released a resigned-sounding sigh. “You go up, get the layout, any deets, then get the fuck out with both nuts intact. Snag pics, too, if possible. You survive those inbred lunatics, we’ll make a plan with whatever info you get.”

Sig grinned.

“A brotherhood’s gotta stick together after all,” Judge murmured, though not sounding happy about it.

“Anyone should know that answer, we should. A lot of us witnessed what happened when it didn’t.”

“But the plan may not happen right away, Sig. Tellin’ you that. Not riskin’ my bail bond license or my biz by goin’ up there half-cocked. Hear me?”

“Yeah.”

“If we gotta wait ‘til Deke closes the deal on that crematorium, we wait.”

Sig met Judge’s eyes. “Might be the best biz this club buys.”

“Thinkin’ that may be true. Keeps everyone’s ass outta jail if it’s done right. That’s why we need to think first and act carefully. Temper’s gotta keep in check ‘til then. Hear me?”

“Yeah.”

“So, do whatya gotta do to keep it that way. Even after you go up that mountain. Better have somethin’ or someone waitin’ for you when you come back down to handle that inferno that’s gonna be rippin’ your gut apart. You snap ‘cause of what you find? You’ll fuck shit up. Shit’ll go sideways if you don’t keep it together.”

Nothing new. Shit always went sideways.

The big man got to his feet and both dogs also jumped up, tails slowly wagging. “Gonna leave the dogs with you and Red durin’ the run, yeah?” Judge headed toward his door.

“Whatever you need, brother.”

Judge hesitated and glanced back at Sig over his shoulder. “Need you to stay off that fuckin’ mountain.”

Sig said nothing and Judge just muttered something under his breath that sounded similar to “stupid fuck,” went into his apartment and slammed the door shut.

Chapter Nine

The huge speakers hanging on the walls near the ceiling in all four corners of the common area of The Barn were cranked up. Open bottles of booze, kicked bottles of beer, and red plastic cups littered the bar top and almost every other flat surface, including some places on the wide wood-planked floors. The crack of pool balls could be heard almost in stereo from both occupied tables.

After making sure she ate plenty of the food the sweet butts had set up after the run, he settled Red into an old recliner near the center circular fireplace. A fire roared bright since the double barn doors facing the courtyard were both wide open and the October night had turned to blue ball temps.

Shady was now the only prospect at the party, since Dodge was working Crazy Pete’s while Stella and Trip had gone on the run and were now hanging out with the rest of them.

Sig had told Shady to keep an eye on Red, this way she didn’t disappear into the fucking night. He was not in the mood to track a woman—just about eight months pregnant—on the run in the dark.