Blood & Bones: Rook (Blood Fury MC 7)

Like Dodge.

And some others he’d been trying to convince to come to Manning Grove, clean up their act and join the Fury.

Unfortunately, their club was still light in numbers. Especially if they might go to war with the Shirleys, since it looked like they were increasing their numbers, too. Shade was right about them bringing more bodies into their clan, but wrong about who.

It wasn’t men climbing out of the piece-of-shit sixteen-passenger van with the dark-tinted windows. No men at all except for the driver. From what Rook understood about these ass-backward backwoods bumpkins, the women weren’t allowed to drive. They weren’t even allowed to learn to drive. That kept them hobbled to Hillbilly Hill.

Rook wasn’t sure he’d call the former occupants of the van women. None of them seemed fully cooked. Maybe mid- to late-teens. Young, fresh, but old enough to ovulate. The clan must be bringing in new blood so the new babies wouldn’t be so cross-eyed and confused.

But only seven men remained, if their count was correct. Seven.

They already had almost thirty women in the compound. Not including some of the teen girls. Adding eight more women would keep those seven studs busy as fuck. Unless some of the teen boys were going to take a “wife” or two.

But still... Seven men weren’t enough. Maybe more men would arrive next.

Fuck.

The arrival of the van was causing too much activity, so tonight would not be a good night to try to snag a Shirley. But what was happening would be of interest to Trip, Sig and Judge.

Rook watched long enough to make sure all of the new women who’d arrived didn’t seem to be restrained or forced, like Red had been.

Surprising—or maybe it shouldn’t be so surprising—they all seemed to want to be there and were dressed in a similar way with homemade dresses, long hair pulled up, knee-high socks and sneakers. They worked their way around the clearing introducing themselves to the other women and children who had gathered like it was Manning Grove’s Christmas parade.

He wondered if the women got to pick their “baby daddy” or if the man was chosen for them. The one they’d end up “marrying.” Though, Rook doubted any of them were legally married. Wife was just an empty title to them.

Just like mother had only been an empty title for Bebe. Should mean something but didn’t.

Not that he was ever getting fucking married. He’d lasted thirty-four years so far without a ball and chain. The only ring he might consider wearing was a cock ring. But right now he didn’t need one of those, either. He had no problem getting and keeping his dick hard.

No problem at all.

A bonfire was lit and the crowd began to gather around it. Mason jars, most likely full of moonshine, were being passed around. Children were playing in the dirt. The teenagers—probably all related—were flirting with each other in small groups. And the seven men took turns talking to the newest females of the clan.

Kind of like speed dating but redneck-style with a whole bunch of missing teeth.

Those men probably couldn’t care less about intelligence and conversation but more about the width of their hips and their sturdiness for pushing out snot monkeys.

He had no doubt that if he checked back in six months or so, all eight of them would be knocked up. He wouldn’t doubt if a couple weren’t knocked up in the next week. Their belief was the more children they had, the closer they were to God.

However, if there was a God, he was probably frowning down upon the Shirley clan. But then Rook had never been a religious man and didn’t know what the fuck was in the bible, so maybe their god condoned everything the Shirleys did.

Since they were all settled in for the night—and the only ones wandering away from the group might be the teens looking to do a little diddling—no reason remained for Rook to stay. His bed was waiting for him and he planned on staring at the back of his eyelids soon.

Unless some sweet butts were hanging around when he got back. He wouldn’t mind at least one good blowjob before hitting the sheets. Crystal was great at deep-throating. Maybe once he got back to the Honda, he’d text her and see where she was or who she was with. Even if she already took a load from one of his brothers, she could still use her mouth.

He must have tripped a dozen fucking times making his way back down the narrow path. Even though he knew the way by now, not having any moonlight made it more treacherous. He also didn’t trust the Shirleys to not discover their path and add a few booby traps along the way. If they were smart...

Yeah, never mind.