“As in the prospect?”
“Yeah.” Judge moved forward and when they got to Shady, the man looked up from where he squatted beside another man.
A man with a dark gaping slit across his throat.
Even in the dark, Sig could see the Shirley was bleeding out as Shady had a tight grip on the back of the man’s mullet.
“This one of the targets?” the younger biker asked.
“Hard to say,” Sig said, kind of impressed with the prospect. He never saw Tomlin except that one time in the vehicle when he and Vernon drove past Dino’s Diner. But Sig hadn’t gotten a good look.
Judge squatted down beside the body and turned on his flashlight, pointing it low and directly into the dead man’s face.
“Fuck. Know I dealt with most of the leader’s sons when they’ve been snagged by five-oh for one reason or the other, but they all fuckin’ look alike to me. Can’t tell if this is Tomlin. Bet we check his undies, his momma-auntie probably wrote his name in marker somewhere in them.”
Shady snorted and got to his feet. “Think he shit himself before I sliced his fuckin’ throat, so I ain’t checkin’ them.” He wiped his knife off on the flannel shirt of the possible Tomlin.
Judge shot Shady a frown. Those were the most words Sig ever heard the prospect say.
Sig pulled out his cell and snapped a pick of the man’s face to identify him later. Before this night was through, he wanted to make sure they got their intended targets. Any other fuckers who stopped breathing would be a bonus.
“Who else?” Shady asked, a huge buck knife in his hand.
“The leader and his bitch,” Sig said, giving the body a good kick with his boot. Then he spat a hocker on the asshole’s face. “Piece of motherfuckin’ shit.”
Judge tugged on his long beard. “Which bitch? He got three, I think.”
“The youngest cunt, Anna. The one that hurt Red, took her clothes and treated her like a fuckin’ animal.”
“Let’s go huntin’, fuckers,” Shady said and moved off, keeping low and to the edge of the woods as he headed toward the big house.
“What the fuck?” Judge asked Sig.
“Don’t know. Don’t fuckin’ care. Kinda likin’ the guy right now,” Sig answered, then followed Shady.
“Hey, Shady,” Judge whispered. “You take out anyone else?”
The younger brother paused, whispering over his shoulder, “Any males I came across. Don’t know who’s who, so just makin’ sure we don’t miss the targets.”
“Damn,” Sig whispered. He wanted to fucking grin and buy the guy a beer.
Sig’s cell phone vibrated in his back pocket and he paused long enough to pull it out and read the text from Trip. “Trip found Red in the main house. Seems to be good. He’s gettin’ Dodge to bring up the Jeep ‘bout halfway and Rook’s helpin’ her get down to meet them.”
“Good fuckin’ news, brother,” Judge said, whacking him on the back.
Yeah, but a fucking nine-month pregnant woman shouldn’t be hoofing it down the mountain even a hundred feet, forget over a half mile. But bringing the Jeep all the way up that rutted lane would tip off too many other Shirleys who might not be aware yet of what was going down.
Not only did they need to keep that element of surprise, they needed to get Red out of there before any of them saw her leaving. Her safety was priority number one.
However, even once she was safe, they were not done there.
Not even fucking close.
Sig quickly texted Trip back. Want that fucker n his bitch alive.
The answering message, Think they scattered, popped up on his phone.
Don’t give a fuck. Need 2 find them. Save 4 me.
Sig didn’t get an answer and he didn’t like that at all.
A minute later, just as they were within feet of the dark house, another text popped up. Found Anna locked in attic w/ rest of wives n kids.
Sig texted, Hold her 4 me.
No clue where leader is. Mighta deserted his women n kids.
Figures. That pussy motherfucker. Having to strap a woman down to make her submit to him.
His blood pressure spiked again and he took a deep inhale to try to keep him from only seeing red and nothing else. Because if his world went red, he would be useless. He wouldn’t be able to think straight or get the job done he needed to do.
So, he needed to keep himself from spiraling and concentrate on the revenge he was looking forward to tasting.
It was right there on the tip of his tongue.
Got him came in a mass text to everyone, not by Trip but Cage. Was trailn Rook n Red.
He alive? Sig texted quickly back.
Fuck yeah. Savn his ass 4 ya.
Sig smiled. Location?
Near barn.
He said to Judge and Shady, “One of you get the wifey from Trip. Bring her to me at that fuckin’ shed. Tell Trip and the others to keep the rest of the Shirleys away from there. Take any of ‘em out if you gotta. And make sure that dead one was Tomlin. If not, find that fucker, too.” He spun on his heels and headed back to the area near the barn.
Autumn cried out when her foot got caught in a deep rut and her ankle twisted sharply as they made their way down the pitch dark lane, only using Rook’s cell phone to guide their way.
Her heart was wildly thumping, her back cramping severely and so was her belly.
But she didn’t stop, she kept going with Rook tightly gripping her elbow to help her stay on her feet.
But they were moving too slowly.
She wanted to race down that mountain and get as far away as she could as fast as she could. But she wasn’t racing anywhere. She doubted she should even be walking as far as she was.
However, she had no choice, so she kept putting one foot in front of the other, hoping freedom wasn’t too far away.
Rook promised her that Dodge and Stella would bring the Jeep up as far as they could. But the slow, agonizing downward trek seemed endless.
Her feet were bare and one eye was swollen shut from where Vernon backhanded her when she fought to keep him from strapping her to the bed in Tomlin’s room. She was told that was where she was staying until the baby was born.
And after he was, they would then decide what to do with her.
She had spat in his face when Vernon leaned over her to buckle one of her wrists fast to the headboard. That got her another backhand and a hand gripping her throat until she thought she would pass out. Vernon had taken her right to the edge where she was seeing spots.
But before everything went black, he released her and said if she hadn’t been carrying his baby, he would’ve finished what he started and then buried her in the woods where no one would ever find her.
She had also spat in Vernon’s face and scratched Tomlin’s cheek back at the apartment. She hadn’t gone willingly when they busted in, but they’d tied her up and threw her into the back seat of the same rusty Buick they’d been seen driving the other week in town.
Every bump that car had hit caused another sharp, excruciating pain to shoot through her stomach. Because of that, she was afraid she might go into labor early.
No matter what, she somehow needed to prevent that.
She refused to have the baby while they held her captive. Because if she did, she worried they would take that baby and no one would ever be able to find it.
Screw them, they weren’t getting him.
And they weren’t taking either of them alive back up that mountain ever again. So, if Rook couldn’t get her down to the Jeep in time...
“You have a knife?” she could barely ask since she was having a hard time catching her breath.
“Yeah.”
“Give it to me.”
Rook’s fingers gripped her elbow tighter and he sounded suspicious when he asked, “For what?”
“I just need it. Please.”
“For what, Red?” He continued to tug her along.
“In case we don’t make it.”
“I won’t let them take me or this baby again.”
“What the fuck you gonna do with a knife that I can’t?”
She didn’t answer him, but cried out when she stumbled again. And when she did, a sharp pull shot through her stomach.
“Red, whatcha gonna do with the fuckin’ knife?”
Again, she didn’t answer him, instead she gasped at another sharp, almost crippling, pain.
“Ain’t givin’ you a goddamn knife,” Rook growled. “Holy fuck.”
“I can’t go back up there.”
“Ain’t goin’ back up there.”
“That’s what I thought before.”
Rook said nothing and kept moving, his profile grim. He also sped up a little, just about dragging her along with him.
Between her huge belly and her bare feet, she struggled to keep up. Plus, her closed, swollen eye made it even tougher to find her footing in the dark.
The next cramp was so excruciating, it made her double over and cry out.
“Fuck,” Rook barked. “Gotta keep movin’.”
She gasped as she tried to straighten and only doubled over again. Something was definitely wrong. Her insides felt like they were being clawed from the inside out.
She was not having that baby on that mountain. She was not!
Then warm fluid gushed from her, soaking her maternity pants and running down the insides of her thighs.
“Oh... no,” she cried. “Oh no. No. No.”
“What?” Rook asked, sounding a bit panicked himself.
“My water broke.”
“What the fuck does that mean?” Yes, he was definitely panicked. He wasn’t the only one.
She clenched her teeth and forced herself to straighten and keep moving, but he jerked her to a stop.
“Carryin’ you the rest of the way.”
“You can’t,” she said between gritted teeth as another wave of cramps or contractions, or whatever was happening, almost crippled her.
“The fuck I can’t. You’re still skinny as fuck. Most of your weight’s at your center. Don’t think we got much more to go.”
“If you trip...” She gasped again and groaned, holding onto her belly with both hands and feeling it become rock hard.
Without another word, he squatted down low enough to scoop her up. She bit back a squeal from not only being lifted but him stumbling back a step in trying to balance her weight.
“If you fall...”
“Ain’t gonna fall. Hang the fuck on. Gettin’ you and this kid outta here. They ain’t takin’ you and they ain’t takin’ him. Fuck those inbred hillbillies.”
She hooked her arms around his neck as he held her tightly against his chest, struggling with her weight, but determined to keep going until he found the Jeep.
And besides the fluid still dripping from between her thighs, tears began to slide down her cheeks. She pressed her face into Rook’s neck and just let them flow as she hung on tight.
Somehow she got out a shaky, “Thank you.”
Rook said nothing, but his fingers flexed against her and he kept moving.
Somehow he managed to get them both to the Jeep.
Then he disappeared back up that mountain while Stella, trying to remain calm, got on her phone and Dodge drove way too fast to get them to the nearest hospital.
He stared at the piece of shit who was on his knees in front of Cage but was facing Sig.
Cage must have struck the fucker from behind with the bloody leather blackjack he was gripping in his hand.
Vernon—the leader of the Shirley Clan, the man in charge of the local branch of the Guardians of Freedom—didn’t look so powerful now with his ankles and hands trussed together behind him and his head hanging forward.
He was about to learn a lesson he wouldn’t be able to forget because he wouldn’t live long enough to forget it.
“What’re we doin’ to him?” Cage asked.
“We ain’t doin’ nothin’. He’s mine. So’s that cunt wife of his. Grab an arm, gotta drag his ass over there.” Sig jerked his chin toward the shed that was barely visible behind the barn.
But even that wasn’t the final destination.
They both grabbed a side and dragged the fucker on his knees through the dirt and stones past the barn, around the shed and behind it.
“What the fuck is that?”
Sig didn’t bother to answer that question. Cage could most likely figure it out on his own. “Help me throw him on that bench. Face down. Ass at the end.”
“Fuckin’ Sig, man...”
“Just fuckin’ do it.”
They heaved Shirley’s heavy weight onto that bench and Cage held the man in place while Sig stopped, spun and walked away a few steps, taking a few deep, slow breaths, trying to fight the rage from blinding him.
He needed to stay in the here and now.
He needed to stay focused.
“Sig, brother...” Cage muttered.
As soon as his narrowed vision opened up enough for him to see clearly, he spun back around and went directly to the rear of the bench. “Untie his fuckin’ ankles. Hold one while I strap the other.”
Cage stared at him for a few seconds.
“Wanna know what the fuck they used this bench for?” Sig roared at him. “Wanna know? Maybe this fucker would be happy to fuckin’ explain it.”
With a slight nod, a tight jaw and without another word, Cage untied Vernon’s ankles, keeping a secure hold of one while Sig strapped the other to the bottom of the bench leg. Then he moved around and strapped the other ankle tight.
Exactly how that motherfucker had strapped Red to it.
Fucking Karma was a goddamn evil bitch.
And right now, Sig’s name was Karma.
“Now his hands,” Sig ordered Cage.
Sig strapped down one and then the other. He backhanded Vernon in the face. “You awake, motherfucker? Need to be awake for this.”
Vernon’s head flopped to the side and his eyes slowly blinked open.
That motherfucker was awake. And once Sig started doling out his revenge, it would wake the fucker up even more.
He pulled his knife from his boot, sliced Vernon’s thermal shirt down the center of his back, then tore it off him, wrapping the torn cotton tightly around the man’s head and making sure he was gagged.
He didn’t want Vernon yelling out to his cousins-brothers-uncles once Sig started.
Then he tucked the knife into the waistband of Vernon’s jeans and sawed at the denim until both the man’s ass and back of his thighs were exposed.
Sig ignored the muttering behind him. “Can’t watch that goddamn shit.”
As soon as Cage was gone, Sig heard someone else approach.
“Fuck, Sig.” Deacon.
He also heard a muffled female voice.
He glanced over his shoulder to see Deacon had brought a woman with him. “That her?”
“Yeah.”
“You sure?”
“Yeah. When we asked the women in that attic, they all pointed at her. Have a fuckin’ feelin’ she ain’t well liked.”
“What’re they doin’ with the rest of the bitches?”
“Using the women and older kids as shields. Judge and Trip figured if they start shootin’ at us, they’d sacrifice their own first. They’re settin’ up a perimeter to give you time to do what you need to do. But Trip said do it quick.”
Sig nodded. “Hold her there and let ‘er watch to see what’s gonna happen to her next. Make sure she watches. Don’t fuckin’ let her look away. You got me?”
“Uh... yeah. Okay,” Deke answered, worry starting to creep into his face. And when Sig unbuckled his belt, the man yelled out, “What the fuck, Sig!”
“Ain’t gonna fuck ‘im. Though he deserves his fuckin’ asshole to be violated just like what he did to Red.”
Sig finished slipping it from the loops and took the worn leather into his hands. Hi
s belt had touched a lot of flesh over the years, including his own. But this may be the last time he used it for anything other than to hold up his jeans.
He snapped the narrow leather together, the sharp crack that usually got his blood humming filling the air.
Right now, his blood was boiling, not humming.
He moved around to the front of the bench, grabbed Vernon’s hair and jerked his head up, holding the folded belt in front of his face. “Normally get off on this shit. You’ll be lucky I ain’t shovin’ my dick up your ass when I’m done. Can’t guarantee I still won’t, but can guarantee this bench will be the last fuckin’ place you take a breath. Also ain’t promisin’ how you get there’s gonna be fast and easy. It ain’t. Gonna suffer like you made Red suffer and while you are, want you to think about all those fuckin’ times you had her strapped to this same goddamn bench.”
Vernon made a muffled sound behind the cotton stuffed into his mouth. Sig didn’t want to hear what he had to say.
He just didn’t give a fuck.
Not fucking one.
He dropped the fucker’s head and moved to the back of the bench, then glanced over at the leader’s young wife.
Sig trailed his fingers down Vernon’s back and then over the man’s ass, making sure she was watching his every move. “See all that white flesh? Watch what happens to it.” He lifted his eyes to Deacon. “Make sure she watches it all, Deke.”
He turned back to the bench, planted his boots apart, and lifted his arm. For the first time ever, he gripped the end without the buckle.
He began counting. One strike for every month Red endured being on that mountain and held captive against her will. Then he gave one strike for every day. And if he needed to, he’d do every hour, every minute, every fucking second.
But he lost count.
One blurred into the other and he no longer knew what was happening around him. His focus had narrowed solely on the man in front of him. The red, swollen, bloody, ripped open flesh that used to be whole.
Like Red used to be whole.
His arm lifted and dropped over and over in a mindless, endless rhythm, until blood began to spatter him. On his clothes, his arm, his face.
And still... he didn’t stop. Couldn’t stop.
Blood & Bones: Sig (Blood Fury MC Book 2) Page 27
