Blood & Bones: Rook (Blood Fury MC 7)

Yep.

As he began to pull himself up his own body, he paused and held his breath to listen more carefully.

Footsteps.

Not one set. A few.

He reached for the Beretta he kept at the small of his back. His fingers found nothing.

Nothing.

Fucking. Nothing.

The gun must have been thrown out of his pants when he got whipped into the air. He had no fucking idea where it landed.

Fuck!

He was dead. Totally fucking dead.

He couldn’t even protect himself.

Right now, he was as helpless as Dyna.

He began to swing, the tree limb’s creaking getting louder as he tried to get his body weight up high enough to grab the bottom of his boot. If he could, he might be able to hold himself up there long enough to unlace his boot and slip his foot free.

But he was running out of time.

“Jesus fuckin’ Christ,” he muttered under his breath.

Maybe whoever was walking nearby wasn’t there to check the trap. Maybe they were headed down to the main compound to some incestuous fuckfest and would skirt the area where he hung like a curing side of beef.

He twisted at his waist and glanced in the direction he heard the trampling of undergrowth. A single light bobbed through the woods, the beam bouncing off one tree, then another, as it got closer.

Fuck!

Whoever belonged to those feet were heading his way. They were on his direct path.

He lifted one arm to shield his eyes when the blinding flashlight beam hit him directly in his face, making it impossible to see who held it or who else was with the person leading the group. Or to know how many Shirleys just found his defenseless ass.

“We got one of those motherfuckers!” a woman crowed.

“Told you this snare trap would work!” another woman exclaimed loudly.

“Now what’re we gonna do with ‘im?” another woman asked.

“I got a suggestion,” Rook said with a grimace. “You could cut me down and let me go.”

One of the women cackled.

“Bet he’s one of ‘em that’s been takin’ out our menfolk.”

Another one said, “Let’s just gut him like a deer right here.”

“Yeah, watch him bleed out like they did to Vern Sr.”

“Cut his dick off and shove it in his mouth, too.”

Rook cringed. He hadn’t seen the actual deed Sig had done to the former clan leader, but he’d heard about it. At the time, he was glad he hadn’t witnessed the actual act because shit like that would give him nightmares.

He especially didn’t want it done to him, either. Particularly while he was still breathing. Being fed his own severed dick was not on his bucket list.

“Go get Vern, Jr.”

“No. Not yet. Got a better idea. After that, V.J. can have his ass and do with ‘im what he wants. But first, he’s mine.”

Rook didn’t like the sound of that.

“What d’ya mean, Sally?”

Yeah, Sally, what the fuck do you mean?

“What d’you think I’m gonna do? One of these fuckers took my Jimmy from me, leavin’ me with no man. Leavin’ me with no poppa for my kids. This one needs to pay for that.”

“That’s what we’re gonna kill ‘im for.”

“That’s too easy. I got plans for him first. Gonna use him to make up for what he done tooken from me.”

What the fuck did she mean? And what the fuck was tooken?

“You gonna share him? He and his kin done took my Tomlin from me, too.”

“And mine,” the third one said.

“There’s only seven of our menfolk left right now, not includin’ our boys. We could use the fresh blood.”

Rook wasn’t liking the turn of this conversation. Maybe he’d rather die on Hillbilly Hill. And quickly.

“Vern Jr. and the rest of the men ain’t gonna like it, Sally.”

That’s it, woman, you tell Sally what a bad fuckin’ idea it is.

“They don’t gotta know if everyone keeps their trap shut!” Sally barked. “They ain’t gonna know if the baby’s one of theirs or this one’s. They talk about bringin’ in new blood. From Ohio. Kansas. Even Alabammy. But we don’t know how long that’s gonna take. What do we do ‘til then? Share the seven of them? There’s too many of us and too few of them. An’ two of ‘em are my own damn sons.”

A murmur ran through the women.

Someone needed to convince Sally this was a really bad idea. “Uh... Ladies...”

“Shut up,” one of them barked at him.

“But...”

“Shut up, you. You got no right to say shit. Not after what your clan has done to ours.”

“Ain’t a clan,” Rook said weakly.

“Shut up!”

Getting them pissed off when he hung there helplessly wasn’t going to help him. He needed to be convincing, so they’d cut him down. Though, he really doubted they’d just let him walk away. But if he could get to his feet, he might be able to overpower the three of them.

He assumed it was only three since only three spoke. That was confirmed when they stepped closer, surrounding him. One of them poked at his gut.