Blood & Bones: Cage (Blood Fury MC Book 5)

by Jeanne St. James

  A good father.

  A man who would put his children above himself.

  A loyal husband.

  A man who’d treat her like gold instead of tarnished silver. A man who’d be her best friend.

  Basically, a man as far from Ox as she could find.

  Another man stood outside the trailer with a baby in his arms. She wasn’t sure if he spotted her vehicle yet, so she rolled to a stop about a hundred yards away to study him.

  Cage was talking to the baby while he supported both her butt and neck and gently bounced his body up and down. She was pretty sure it hurt for him to do so, but he was putting his daughter’s comfort above his own.

  She doubted her own sperm donor ever did that with her or Judge. She doubted Ox ever changed a diaper, fed them a bottle or read them a bedtime story.

  Cage seemed to be taking the unexpected arrival of his own child pretty damn well. Yes, he was overwhelmed, but he was dealing with it.

  The easy way out would’ve been to give Dyna up for adoption.

  Cage didn’t take the easy way out, and Jemma respected that. Even though her own opinion was he should’ve adopted her out instead of planning on raising her within an MC.

  But whatever. That wasn’t her decision and Dyna wasn’t her child.

  She was only there to help for a short while. That was all.

  Jemma’s heart did a little flip when Cage dipped his head and pressed his lips to his daughter’s tiny forehead. He held them there for a while. Almost like it wasn’t a simple kiss but an actual promise to her. To do right by her. No matter what.

  Holy shit. Her imagination was running wild.

  With a groan, she gave the Volvo gas and pulled up to the biker who stood waiting for her and proudly wearing his colors.

  She rolled down the window. “This is it, huh?”

  No grin. No smile. Only a solemn, but unneeded, confirmation. “This is it.”

  She hadn’t seen him smile once since she came back to town. Not fucking once. She tried to convince herself that it shouldn’t matter to her.

  Unfortunately, it did.

  She shoved the shifter into Park, opened the door, and climbed out.

  What was before her was why she was here. Back in Pennsylvania, in Manning Grove, and involved with a club she never thought in her right mind she would be.

  However, here she was. And here they were. The man, the baby and now, the mobile home.

  She knew he was about to ask her to move in. Once again, she had been warned ahead of time when Trip and Judge showed up at Lottie’s last night to have a serious sit-down with her.

  They asked her to consider Cage’s request.

  They stressed the part where the club was a family and needed to act like one. Unlike the Originals who were all selfish, motherfucking assholes.

  Even Dutch. Maybe even Ozzy, but Jemma didn’t know him at all. So, she couldn’t say for sure.

  However, as much as they stressed the whole family bullshit, none of it applied to her. She wasn’t part of the club. She wasn’t club property. Being born to an Original, or being the sister and cousin to current members, didn’t make it so. This wasn’t her life.

  It never would be.

  It stopped being her life when she was five and she wanted to keep it that way.

  She approached Cage and kept her eyes on the bundle in his arms. When she stood toe to toe with him, she leaned in and sniffed Dyna’s dark downy hair, her own hair brushing against Cage’s chest and arm.

  There was nothing like the smell of a baby. Unless they shit themselves.

  Dyna smelled clean, but Jemma also smelled the combo of tobacco and weed on Cage.

  Men with babies. Fuck. It shouldn’t be a turn-on but sometimes it was unavoidable. It had to be some deep-seated hormonal thing.

  “How’s my little monkey?” she asked softly and noticed when Dyna turned her head toward her voice and gurgled. Both she and Cage were her source of food, so it made sense the baby would bond with her. Jemma straightened and pulled free a few strands of her hair that had caught in his short beard. “She eat?”

  “Yeah.”

  “She keep it down?”

  “Yep.”

  “Did you remember to wipe her front to back?”

  He nodded, but his mouth got tight.

  Jemma pressed her lips together to keep from smiling. He was trying his best, she had to give him that much. He wanted to learn and do it right. He didn’t always, but he was willing to listen and fix his mistakes.

  That was half the battle right there.

  She grabbed Dyna’s little foot in her cute little onesie and shook it gently. She wasn’t sure from whom or where he got all the biker-themed onesies, but today’s read: From the Bottle to the Throttle with a picture of a motorcycle.

  “It’ll be a while before she can be your backpack,” Jemma murmured.

  “Soon as she can, she’ll ride in front of me.”

  “Let’s not rush it, biker boy.” She patted his tattooed arm and he winced. She made a mental note to check his ribs again. “You know, you don’t have to hold her constantly.” Especially when you’re suffering, she added silently.

  “She likes it.”

  She couldn’t read his expression because he wore dark sunglasses. He also had a folded up bandana tied around his forehead, probably to keep his longish, messy hair out of his face. It wasn’t super long but it wasn’t cropped short, either. Just long enough to be annoying.

  “You’ll spoil her.”

  The clenching of his jaws was hard to miss. “Then I fuckin’ spoil her. Don’t got much to give her, but can give her that.”

  Damn, that hurt her heart. “Chris...”

  His nostrils flared and every muscle went stiff, so she gave him a moment. She wasn’t sure if his reaction was from what he said or from her use of his real name.

  “Cage,” she finally whispered.

  When he stared over her shoulder into the tree line behind the shed and mobile home, she realized it wasn’t from her calling him Chris. It was time to change the subject. Right now he seemed to be as vulnerable as the baby in his arms.

  “You asked me here for a reason.”

  “Yeah.”

  She reached out. “Let me take her. I’m sure your ribs are killing you.”

  His fingers tightened slightly on Dyna, but a few seconds later they loosened and he handed her over. But it was clear he had a hard time letting her go.

  “Did you bring her bouncer?”

  “Inside.”

  “Did you move in yet?”

  “Sort of.”

  She nodded, not expecting more than that, but he continued.

  “Got some stuff still in my room in the bunkhouse. Some clothes and shit. Some stuff still at Dutch’s. Not much, but then I don’t got much ‘cause I don’t need much.”

  However, his daughter would. Jemma realized why he’d gotten upset, he was worried he wouldn’t be able to give Dyna everything she needed.

  “Want to show me the inside? I assume this is where you want me to watch Dyna during the day?”

  She wouldn’t make it easy for him. She wasn’t going to volunteer to stay in this mobile home on the farm. If he wanted that, he needed to be the one to ask. She’d be perfectly fine staying at Lottie’s at night and coming over to the farm during the day to watch the baby while she scoured the internet for a new job, emailed her resume and did virtual interviews. And once she found the right job, she could search for a new place to live.

  As long as it was anywhere other than Manning Grove.

  She didn’t wait for his invitation and climbed the portable, three-step wood staircase into the trailer. First thing she noticed when she stepped inside was that it looked and smelled new. She was sure it wouldn’t stay like that for long.

  She also noticed the furnishings were new. There wasn’t a lot since the home was only a single-wide but he had the basics. A couch, a recliner, a TV and a couple side tables in the li
ving room. To the right at the end of the trailer was a small bedroom with also the basics and what looked like a double bed.

  She wandered through the kitchen, opening up a couple of cabinets to find some mismatched pots and pans along with some old mugs and dishes. None of the kitchen items were new. They’d either been bought at a yard sale, a second-hand store or donated. Not that it mattered, they would work.

  She peeked into the bathroom and the empty room across from it, which seemed to be set up for a washer and dryer. Something needed when raising a baby, but was missing. She frowned.

  She heard his footsteps behind her. “You need a washer and dryer.”

  “In the bunkhouse.”

  She shook her head. “Fuck that. You need a set in here. Even if it’s one of those small stackable sets. Get them.”

  She didn’t bother to look at him when she heard him blow out a loud breath. Instead, she opened the door to the last room on the far side of the trailer. The master bedroom. The sheets were a mess and clothes were scattered on the floor already. She spotted the bassinet that had been at Dutch’s house tucked in the corner by the head of the bed.

  “That bassinet will work for now, but you’ll need a crib. Get a convertible one so she doesn’t outgrow it so quickly. You also need a changing table with drawers to keep all her baby biker onesies. If you get a small stackable washer/dryer, then you’ll still have space in that laundry room for it. Plus, that room has shelves to keep diapers and supplies organized.” Dyna made a little noise in her arms and Jemma ran her fingers over her head. “Hey, monkey, Daddy’s going to get you alllll set up,” she said in a sing-song voice.

  During their baby-duty handoffs at Dutch’s, she had heard Cage calling Dyna “monkey” a couple times. Jemma smiled whenever he said it, usually before he pressed a soft goodbye kiss to her forehead. It was heart-warming and cute even though she knew it was a shortened version of the nickname the guys called kids, which was not so cute. But Dyna seemed like such a grown-up name for such a tiny human.

  Jemma had fallen into the habit of calling the baby Cage’s pet name for her. She could see herself calling her own baby that. She had even purchased an adorable, plush monkey for Dyna at Target. She had spotted it right away on the couch when she had entered the trailer.

  She turned to Cage, who stood behind her. “Let me check your ribs before I leave. I want to make sure you’re healing okay.”

  “Don’t gotta do that.”

  “We’ve had this discussion before. I know I don’t, but I’m going to do it anyway.”

  His sunglasses were now folded and tucked into the neckline of his shirt, so she could see his light blue eyes get intense with a touch of confusion. Like he couldn’t understand why someone would want to do something for him simply for no reason. Without expecting anything in return.

  Though, wasn’t that what he was expecting when it came to her helping him out with Dyna? He expected her to do something for him without anything in return.

  So, she didn’t quite understand his reaction.

  Well, he was a man and sometimes they were hard to figure out. Most of the time, she didn’t even bother to try.

  She swallowed a sigh and pushed past him, carrying Dyna back out to the kitchen where the bouncer sat on the counter that separated it from the living area. She jerked her head toward it. “Never put it on a table or counter. She might not be able to move it now, but babies can get some hardcore bouncing action going and it could fall.” She placed Dyna into it. “It’s okay for now because she can’t bounce it off the counter yet and we’re going to be standing right next to it, but don’t get in that bad habit.”

  She turned, following his movement as he rounded the end of the counter and came to stand next to her. He stared at his daughter in the bouncer with concern.

  “Now,” she said, catching his attention. “Take your shirt off.”

  He had no problems shucking his cut and placing it over the back of one of the stools at the counter, but removing his shirt wasn’t as easy. With his back toward her, she watched him struggle for a few seconds before she stopped him and slid it up and over his torso and head for him. Again, careful of his nose, which was still healing.

  Unlike the last time she helped him undress, she had a full view of his broad, naked back. A few bruises of different sizes discolored the skin here and there but didn’t take away from that view.

  He had to work out somewhat. While he wasn’t ripped, he also wasn’t flabby. He was trim enough not to have even the slightest love handles above his jeans.

  His soft, worn Levi’s were cinched around his narrow hips by a wide black leather belt but rode low enough where the elastic waistband of his boxer briefs was visible.

  His jeans cupped his ass perfectly. So perfectly, she had to drag her attention from it. But before she did, she took note of the black leather wallet tucked into his back pocket with a chain attached to one of his front belt loops. Bikers wore them so they wouldn’t lose their wallets on a ride, or in a fight. It also made it more difficult to be stolen when hanging out with questionable company.

  Before she checked his ribs, she stepped back and studied the club’s colors tattooed onto his back.

  Proof this man was all in.

  He was born to be in this club, he just didn’t get the chance until now because of all the fucked up shit the Originals did and were involved in. The Originals had been their own worst enemies. They fucked up what could’ve been a good thing. They tainted their brotherhood with backstabbing, lies and internal beefs.

  She only hoped the new Fury wouldn’t follow the same pot-hole riddled road as the old. From what she’d seen so far, she wasn’t sure. Especially with what happened with Cage on the edge of that field.

  She had to assume both Judge and Deacon bore the same ink in their skin. She hadn’t seen it since she had no reason to see her brother or cousin without a shirt or even without their cuts. She also hadn’t asked.

  Though, she planned on it.

  She needed to know how deep into this club they both were. It was bad enough they both held spots on the executive committee. They helped make decisions when it came to what the club did and what the brotherhood became involved in. And Judge, as the sergeant at arms, not only enforced the rules, but was responsible for doling out the actual punishment for breaking those rules.

  The very reason she was about to inspect Cage’s cracked ribs and bruises. The damage her brother had done to his own so-called “brother.”

  Brutal.

  Disappointing.

  Damage that couldn’t be undone.

  And the man before her wanted to raise his daughter in this life.

  Jemma closed her eyes for a moment and simply breathed, pushing away the memories of what it was like to be a little girl being raised in an MC.

  When she said, “Turn around,” her voice cracked and she quickly cleared her throat and gathered herself before he saw her.

  Once he faced her, she handed his shirt back to him, which he took and gripped tightly within his fist. Without breaking their locked gaze, she noticed his chest expand and retract oh-so slowly.

  Something in that movement made her stomach flutter. A sensation that should not be. Not with the man before her. She quickly shoved it away.

  Without his sunglasses on, she could see the deep purple under both eyes caused from his broken nose. The bruise surrounding the right eye was worse and crept toward his temple. Judge must have clubbed him upside the head.

  If he had not been covered with a heavy blanket, he’d most likely be dead, or at least in a coma. Her brother could’ve killed him. And that would have made Judge a murderer, just like Ox.

  That pissed off Jemma even more at her brother for wearing the club colors. But it wasn’t Judge standing before her.

  She quickly smothered the flair of her anger, just like she had with the unexpected reaction to Cage, and concentrated on the task at hand. “Any problems with breathing?”

&n
bsp; “No.” His answer was buttery-soft, so it caught her off-guard and she had to swallow hard to keep her throat from closing. “Jem—”

  Ignore it and keep going. “You’re not sleeping on that side, right?”

  She wasn’t sure if he answered or not because she was too busy studying the tattoo on his right upper chest. It covered his pec and surrounded his nipple. A helmeted man rode a Harley but his face was only a skull. However, the rider’s arms and legs looked normal.

  “Is that supposed to be you?”

  “Do I look dead?”

  He definitely did not look dead. But why was he whispering? Yes, they were standing very close but him keeping his voice soft kept doing something to her it shouldn’t.

  She shook it off again. “You’re lucky you’re not. Your little girl could’ve ended up with no parents instead of only one.”

  He jerked, which also made Jemma start and lift her gaze to his. She was surprised he hadn’t thought of that. He hadn’t considered the possibility of dying when Judge beat the fuck out of him. He hadn’t realized his daughter could’ve been left alone on this Earth with only a grandfather and uncle. Because the Amish certainly didn’t want her.

  The baby was created from sin. To them, she was an embarrassment.

  From what Dutch had found out, right after the birth, Dyna’s mother was sent to another Amish community in Ohio to marry a widower who already had a bunch of kids. Because of her mistake with Cage, Sarah was now destined to raise another woman’s children and most definitely bear more of her own.

  More she’d keep this time. Unlike the one she left behind.

  “Won’t be breakin’ that rule again.”

  “I imagine so.” She placed her hands on his right side, his skin warm under her fingertips as she moved them along his rib cage. “How about not breaking any rules?”

  She didn’t have to look up from her exam to know he was staring at her. She could feel his eyes searing her. Almost as if they were hands. Touching her. Sliding over her skin. She fought a shiver.

  What the fuck was going on?

  “Can’t promise that.” Again, a whisper that did things to her it shouldn’t.