Blood & Bones: Rook (Blood Fury MC 7)

That was one benefit his brothers had over the Shirleys, a few of them actually had some brain power. It also helped none of them were inbred. The Originals had done some fucked up shit back in the day, but having babies with their own blood wasn’t one of them.

Thank fuck.

It was bad enough Bebe was his birth mother. If she had been his aunt, too...

He stumbled over a hidden root and smothered a curse when he tweaked his ankle. He was almost to the bottom but sound carried at night and he didn’t want to risk catching the clan’s attention. The women and children looked innocent enough but they were far from it. Any of them would fill Rook’s ass with buckshot or attempt a homerun using his noggin as a baseball, if given half the chance.

He straightened, tested his ankle and winced. It wasn’t bad but enough to piss him off. He walked more carefully through the dark, relying on his limited night vision to find the spot where he’d hid the Honda.

Only, it was no longer hidden.

Fucking motherfucker.

Chapter Two

A dark figure waited for him at the uncovered Honda with hands planted on her hips.

He paused on the path and glanced over his shoulder back the way he’d come. Was it better to die by the Shirleys or deal with Jet?

That was debatable.

He growled, sucked in a breath and kept moving forward.

One armed woman versus a whole bunch of armed hillbillies. He might be stupid, but he wasn’t Shirley stupid. And after he was done dealing with Officer Bryson, he could still get back to the bunkhouse in time for that head job. If he was dead, he couldn’t.

That right there made the decision much easier.

“Hi,” she chirped, pretending to be much happier to see him than she was.

“Fuck you.” No point in him trying to pretend. If she didn’t like seeing him here, the feeling was mutual.

“Most people usually answer a greeting with a similar greeting. Unless you’re not happy to see that person. That makes me think you’re not happy to see me, Rook.”

“You ain’t wrong.” He walked right past where she stood at the rear of the Honda, dug out the key fob from deep within his front pocket and hit the unlock button.

“Well, that hurts my feelings.”

Somehow, he needed to rid himself of the Beretta from the waistband of his cargo pants before she saw it and hauled his ass in. It was bad enough he couldn’t hide the Buck knife. Hard to miss that on his hip.

Technically, he violated his parole right in plain sight. He could end up wearing steel bracelets whether she saw the gun or not.

Fuck.

“Doubt that,” he muttered, trying his best to keep his back turned from her. His shirt was covering the Beretta but that didn’t mean it wasn’t printing. And her being a pig and all meant she’d recognize the shape.

His preference was to not get shot, tased or cuffed tonight, if at all possible. No, his goal was only that damn blowjob.

“That I have feelings? Or that you hurt them?” she asked.

Jesus Christ. What was she blathering on about? Oh yeah, hurt feelings. “Both.”

“Well, if I didn’t have feelings I wouldn’t be so pissed at you right now for going up that damn mountain when I told you to stay off it the last time I caught you here.”

Rook’s eyebrows shot up and his head tilted. “You told me what?” For fuck’s sake, she was a bossy little thing. He wondered if she’d been like that before she ever wore a uniform.

Probably. It was most likely in the Bryson blood. And their blue blood was thick as tar.

“You heard me. And I thought you heard me last time. I meant what I said.”

Did she now? He was done with her games. He needed to come down a woman’s throat and then get some shuteye. He did not need this shit from her. He was tired, his ankle now ached and it might even be swelling in his boot. It didn’t help his mood that he was only seconds away from being arrested. But dumbass that he was, he still couldn’t stop what he said next. Something with her bossiness pushed his fucking buttons and not in a good way. Not like it had Easy. Rook didn’t want to submit to her, if anything he wanted her to submit to him.

He wanted to force her to her knees and come down her throat, not Crystal’s. Then he wanted to strip that goddamn duty belt off her hips, yank those ugly-ass uniform pants down her thighs, bend her over the trunk of the Honda and fuck her until she was screaming his name and begging him to fuck her harder so loudly the Shirleys would hear it all the way up the mountain.