“Just do your best,” Judge said.
“Do your best to keep breathin’, too. Don’t wanna lose even one of you motherfuckers,” Trip said. “We worked too goddamn long and hard to get where we’re at now. Can’t let some fuckin’ hillbilly clan fuck that up. But we also can’t breathe easier ’til they’re dealt with. So…” He clapped his gloved hands together once. “Let’s fuckin’ do this… For one! For all!”
“For our brothers we live and die!” The rest of them finished the Originals’ motto. It wasn’t a favorite with any of them but it was what they had. For now.
“Hell hath no fury like the Blood Fury!” Sig added on a yell. “Shirleys about to find out what the fuck that means.”
Everyone grunted loudly and stomped their boots on the frozen ground, then went to the location they were previously assigned.
This was it. What they’d been waiting for.
The beginning of the end.
Their phones were blowing up with all the group texts. One text rolled in after another as Rook hunkered down behind a tree, hoping his balls wouldn’t crack off, roll down his pant leg and out onto the ground like a frozen meatball.
They’d been waiting for over an hour outside in the dark and in the late February weather. He was no longer worried about dying by a Shirley, he was more worried about being found frozen stiff like a damn human Popsicle.
He tried to use thoughts of Jet to warm him up, but if she was the one who tipped off the feds, the heat he applied to her ass with his hand would be more than warm.
Getting fucked by the feds was not something on his damn wish list.
His phone lit up again in another flurry of texts.
Trip: Every1 stay steady. Sumthn definitely up.
Judge: Nobody move from ur spot.
Shade: 2 clan vans cut off by 4 more unknown. All black.
Bones: Possibly feds.
Bones: Fuckn feds. ATF. FBI.
Bones: DEA 2.
Sig: THIS IS SOME GODDAMN BULLSHIT!
There was a long pause. Rook hated not knowing what the hell was going down. Where their positions were, they couldn’t hear anything except the winter wind in the leafless tree branches above them. And their nut sacs cracking like a frozen pond.
Trip’s next text got his heart restarted and his blood flowing again. Every1 move now. Stay silent. No lights. Huntn shack. Unload all weapons. Both Shirleys & ur own. Want nothn on ur person. Not even a butter knife.
The next one came from Judge. Once u dump ur shit, get back to church if u can w/o being seen. Meet there.
What the fuck is going on? was what he wanted to scream into the woods, but instead swallowed it back down.
From where he crouched, he could see his brother in the shadows about a dozen trees away, also shivering and freezing his nads off. Rook forced his numb feet to move in his direction.
“You get those?” Rook whispered when he got there.
“Yeah. Fuckin’ feds. Those motherfuckers just fucked us up the ass without lube.”
“Gotta dump these weapons and get our asses back. I can hardly bend my fuckin’ fingers. Maybe it’s better we didn’t get into any kind of shootout. Might not have been able to pull the fuckin’ trigger. Or aim without shakin’.”
“Yeah, nighttime in February ain’t the best time to try to be accurate with guns,” his brother agreed with his teeth chattering.
“Let’s go,” Rook urged, whacking his younger brother on the shoulder.
“You see Dad?” Cage asked as they followed their own footsteps in the snow back to the hunting shack.
Rook shook his head. “Nope. You?”
“No. It’s too fuckin’ cold for an old man like him to be hangin’ out in the woods.”
Rook was surprised his brother was worried. “He’s a tough old shit. He’ll be fine.”
“Yeah,” Cage laughed. “He’ll probably find some young, hot piece of ass to warm him up later.”
Right. Their father had some magical talent with getting hot, young pussy to climb into his bed and onto him. Hell, half the time they didn’t even make it to the old man’s bed. Dutch had never been shy about who, what or where when it came to snatch. Unfortunately, that was how both Cage and Rook learned about the birds and the bees, by witnessing it firsthand. In stereo and 3D living color.
It surprised Rook that Dutch only ended up with two kids. Two planned kids, anyway. He wondered if there were any out there unplanned who Dutch didn’t know about.
Or maybe some he did know.
Speaking of unplanned snot monkeys… “Least you know Dyna and Jem are safe.”
“Yeah, for now. We don’t know what the fuck’s goin’ on, though. Why the feds got involved and what that means to that damn clan. Maybe even to us.”
“We’ll figure it out,” Rook reassured him.
“Worry every fuckin’ day, brother. Every fuckin’ day since the day Dyna was found outside the garage as if she was a goddamn stray kitten.”