“How come you gotta bring a pig army to deal with one fuckin’ man? You all pussies?”
Judd didn’t hear the answer or even if there was one, but he knew why. His pop killed people and didn’t think twice about it. He’d kill all those pigs without even blinking.
But it pissed him the fuck off that he was using Jemma. His baby sister was only five.
Worse, Judd could hear her crying even from where he was lying on his belly in the dirt.
He could also hear his mom throwing out pot shots at the pigs. He wondered if Trixie had encouraged Ox to use Jemma as a shield.
If she did...
Judd’s jaw shifted and his fingers curled into his palms, his dirty nails digging in painfully. If she allowed her own daughter to be used, Judd was running the fuck away and taking Jem with him.
“Ma’am, take your daughter from your husband.”
“No, you fuckin’ don’t, Trix. Stay where you’re at. It’s a fuckin’ trick. You know how these fuckin’ pigs are.”
“Get the fuck out of our house,” Judd heard his mother shriek. “Get out! This is our property! You got no fucking right to be here!”
“We’re here to serve a warrant, ma’am, and we’re not leaving until we do.” The pig sounded pretty fucking calm for the situation. “So, let’s make this quick and painless and stop scaring your daughter.”
“You’re the ones fuckin’ scaring her with all those fuckin’ guns drawn.”
“Scott, this isn’t going to end well.”
“Yeah, it ain’t, no matter what fuckin’ happens.”
When a sharp crack was heard, Judd’s heart leapt out of his chest. “NO!” He jumped to his feet and began to sprint toward the back door.
Someone hooked him around the waist and pulled him to a halt. He began to struggle but was put in a hold that was not only painful, but made it impossible to break free.
“Lemme go!”
“Calm down, kid. You can’t go in there.”
“That’s my sister!”
“She’ll be fine.”
“No, she won’t!”
More shouts and boots stomping on the bare floors were heard. His mother was shrieking and his father bellowing out non-stop curses.
It sounded like a cluster-fuck.
But somehow through all that craziness and even through the pounding in his ears, he heard it.
Jemma screaming. Crying. Calling out Judd’s name.
Judd lost all his strength and went limp in the pig’s hold. His head dropped and he blinked back the tears that threatened to escape. “Jemma,” he whispered.
The pig’s radio squawked, and a voice announced Ox was in custody with just minor injuries. The woman and child were unharmed. Hearing that made him breathe a little easier.
“Lemme go!” Judd yelled, pulling on the arms preventing him from getting to his sister.
“You need to stay out of the way. If you don’t, I’m taking you into custody.”
Judd bit back his, “Fuck you,” and nodded his head instead.
The pig slowly released him and as soon as he did, Judd ran toward the front of the house. The pig ordered him to stop.
He only slid to a stop when he saw a bunch of the military-like 5-0 surge from the house with his father in cuffs. However, it took a few of them to handle him because Ox wasn’t going without a fight.
As Judd went to move toward them, an arm hooked him around the neck, cutting off his air. “Don’t get any closer or you’re going to end up just like your old man.”
Judd forced a “Fuck you” past his crushed windpipe.
“Got a great future ahead of you, asshole. Just like him. Just give yourself a few years, if you live that long.”
Fuck you. Fuck you. Fuck you, you scum-suckin’ pig!
As they tried to drag Ox down the porch steps, his pop did a reverse head-butt and slammed the pig behind him in the nose. Blood gushed from the oinker’s face and there were a bunch of yells, a raised metal baton and then it cracked his pop alongside his already bleeding head.
Ox dropped to his knees with his head hanging. The only thing keeping him from collapsing all the way to the concrete was the pigs hauling him back up. When they did, he spat a big, bloody hocker in one of their faces.
Judd shouted as everything became a blur. His father was shoved to the ground, a shin was pinned to his throat, and someone yelled, “Get a hood,” as they shoved his face into the concrete.
Another one yelled, “Seems like someone earned himself a spit tax.”
And then several of them began kicking his pop’s ribs and stomping on him with their boots.
Judd’s “No!” only came out as a squeak because of the arm pressing on his throat.
A flash caught his attention and he saw his mother, Trixie, rushing out of the house, screaming like a wild woman, her blonde hair flying behind her and her face twisted as she launched herself at one of the 5-0 beating up his father.