Even though Jemma’s heart was still pounding in her throat, she breathed a little easier.
Reilly finally extracted her nails from Jemma’s forearm and practically sprinted into one of the open garage bays, leaving Jemma and Dyna behind.
She could hear Reilly yelling about something. She assumed it was the car when all the guys rushed outside, rags in hand and heads on swivels. Even Dutch.
Cage jogged across the lot to her. “You okay?”
Her fear swirled and mixed with her anger until that was the only thing left. “Yes, but you have a lot of explaining to do.”
“Told you I’d give you the lowdown tonight over dinner.”
“You should have told me on day one!” she yelled. “Or my brother should have.” She released the stroller handles and covered her face with trembling hands and just breathed to try to regain control.
“We warned them not to fuck with us again,” Cage said in a low voice. “We fuckin’ warned them. You sure it was them?”
She dropped her hands and stared at him with incredulity. “You warned them?” Damn it, now her voice was shaking, too. “You fucking warned them?”
“Yeah. We told them we’d burn their mountain to the ground if they ever touched, talked or looked at what’s ours again.”
She shook her head. “You have a three-week-old baby, Cage.” A reminder he certainly shouldn’t need.
“Yeah, and they haven’t fucked with us since that night last fall when we went and took back Red.”
Jemma groaned. “Do you think they’re smart enough to heed that warning?” If the clan was created from incest, then they might have very few IQ points and the ones they had they might be sharing.
“If they want their women and children to keep breathin’, yeah.”
“Jemma!” Reilly yelled and waved her over. She stood right outside one of the bays and was surrounded by the men who’d rushed outside.
With a sigh, she pushed the stroller to join them. Cage followed on her heels, sticking close.
“I really think they were casing the joint,” Reilly was animatedly telling them. “Don’t you think, Jemma?”
Rook made a face. “Casin’ the fuckin’ joint? Who says that shit?”
“Whatever, Rook! You know what I mean. Like they did with Autumn. They watched until the timing was right and had an opportunity to snatch her.”
“Who fuckin’ told you that?” Rook barked and eyed the two younger men in the circle.
Jemma had run into the younger one before at the farm when she was scouting for food in the kitchen one day. The oval embroidered name patch on his navy coveralls said Whip.
That was right. She remembered him. He had been kind of sweet. He looked to be around Jemma’s age.
“You two runnin’ your fuckin’ mouth about club business?” Rook asked, exuding all kinds of unhappy.
“Wasn’t me,” Whip said with a shrug.
“Not me,” the other mechanic said. “Probably the women runnin’ their mouths. Stella was there with us and Red lived it, remember? They know exactly what happened.”
Rook scrubbed a hand down his beard in agitation. “Fuckin’ women. Gotta run their fuckin’ mouths.”
Jemma wanted to address Rook’s assholery but got distracted by the blond with the most stunning blue eyes. His hair was cut short and spiked on top, both ears had several piercings and he had a hoop in one nostril, like Deacon did. He looked to be about in his mid-to-late twenties and was absolutely gorgeous. He wore navy coveralls that weren’t buttoned from his waist up, just like Whip’s. She could read the name patch on his, too. Rev.
Like rev an engine? Or Reverend? She wondered what it was short for. “Is Rev your real name?”
The blond tilted his head and let those beautiful blue eyes slide down her body. He wasn’t even subtle about it. The air shifted sharply behind Jemma.
“Nope. Nickname. Real name’s Mickey. Surprised I haven’t run into you yet at the farm.”
“You hang out at the farm?”
One side of his mouth pulled up. And it was sexy as hell. Damn. “I live at the farm.”
“Oh. You’re a member of the Fury, too.” Jeez, everyone at the shop was. She had no idea.
The other side of his mouth pulled up into a blinding smile. “Yeah.”
Jemma heard a loud grunt right behind her and she rolled her eyes at the caveman claim.
“Anyway,” Reilly shouted to get everyone’s attention back on her. “A rusty piece of shit was sitting a half block down. After we passed it, it pulled away. It would’ve driven right by the garage.”
“Those motherfuckers occasionally come into town to hit a store. They ain’t supposed to even talk or look at our women,” Rev said, moving closer to Reilly until they were almost touching. Almost as if he was her personal protector.
Just like Cage was doing with Jemma. Hovering so closely behind her, she could practically feel his heat and his breath.
“How would they know we’re your women?” They weren’t ol’ ladies, they weren’t wearing “property of” cuts. Nothing Reilly or Jemma wore would tie them to the club.
“They would know now since we were seen leaving and returning to the garage,” Reilly surmised.
Jemma was momentarily distracted when Rev’s hand curled around Reilly’s hip, almost as if to reassure her. She wasn’t the only one who noticed. Rook’s head snapped up and he scowled at that hand until Rev removed it.
Whip, unaware of the unspoken exchange between his brothers, said, “But they could just be customers leavin’ their car here and, instead of waitin’, headin’ to Dino’s to get grub. Happens all the time.”
“Could be.” Dutch grumbled, tugging on his long salt-and-pepper beard. “Ain’t likin’ the fact they were parked nearby. If they come to town they need to get where their goin’ and get the fuck back up that mountain. We ain’t gonna tolerate them loiterin’ or stalkin’ our women.”
“We’re not your women,” Jemma reminded him.
“The fuck you ain’t,” the old man grumbled with a scowl almost identical to Rook’s.
“Maybe it wasn’t us they were watching,” Jemma suggested.
“Right. That’s what I’m fucking saying! It could be your garage, Dutch,” Reilly exclaimed, sounding exasperated.
“Gonna give Trip and Judge the head’s up,” Cage said behind her. “If they’re watchin’, we need to know. Need to prepare. Wish we had more prospects besides Tweedle-Dumbass and Twattle-Dumbfuck to shadow the women ‘til we know what the fuck’s goin’ on or can confirm it was them sittin’ and watchin’.”
“Most of the time they’re covered,” Rev said. “Reilly’s with us during the day and with Ozzy at night at the inn. Stella’s with Dodge and the prospects at Pete’s. Cassie’s with Shade and Easy during the day at the pet crematorium. Reese...”
“Yeah. Reese. Saylor’s alone at the house durin’ the day with Daisy. And,” Rook glanced over Jemma’s shoulder, she assumed at Cage behind her. “Jem’s at the trailer durin’ the day with Dyna. Got two prospects, three women not covered.”
“Those prospects are needed at the bar,” Cage reminded his brother. “Stel will have a fit if we leave her shorthanded.”
“Yeah,” Dutch mumbled, tugging on his beard some more like it helped him think. “Let Trip, Sig and Judge figure it the fuck out. They ain’t gonna want us makin’ those decisions without ‘em.”
“Sig’s gonna fuckin’ flip,” Whip said.
“He ain’t the only one,” Rev added.
“We don’t even know if it was them and what the fuck they were doin’,” Dutch reminded them all. “Coulda been nothin’ and the girls are just imaginin’ shit. Always gotta cause drama.”
Jemma took a huge inhale to address Dutch’s bullshit when a warm hand splayed along the small of her back, causing all the air to rush out of her. Cage started stroking her back the same way they did when Dyna was upset.
Son of a bitch, it fucking worked, too.
But his touch also caused what felt like an electrical current along her skin even with the blouse between them.
For fuck’s sake, this was why she’d been trying to avoid him as much as possible while living in close quarters.
She took a step to the side and broke the contact so she could breathe and think.
Reilly was staring, her mouth agape, her wide green eyes sliding back and forth between Cage and Jemma.
Fuck.
Jemma gave her a look that told her to keep her mouth shut and only hoped the woman got the message. The other woman’s surprise turned into a sly smile as she glanced around the rest of the circle to see if anyone else picked up on what she saw.
Jemma decided it was best to ignore it all. If she ignored it, it didn’t exist, right?
She wished.
What they couldn’t ignore was the flashy vehicle that pulled up next to the group and parked in front of one of the empty bays. A newer, bright yellow Mustang convertible with the top down.
A male with short dark hair twisted his head toward them, did a finger wiggle and yelled out, “Yoo hoo!”
Several groans rounded the circle.
The driver’s door was flung open and a tall, slender, very well-dressed man quickly joined the group and slid his dark sunglasses down his nose enough to peer over them at all the men. Jemma swore he licked his lips like he was thirsty. Parched, even.
“Look at this circle of handsome hunks. Mmm. Lord have mercy. I need to set myself right in the center. All you hard-working boys can certainly make a man’s toes curl.”
In those few seconds, Jemma was one hundred percent certain whoever he was, he was not straight. Not with the way he was eyeing up the men, even Dutch, like they were lollipops and he wanted to figure out how many licks it took to get to the center.
“Aren’t you married now, Teddy?” Cage asked dryly. Had he stepped behind Jemma even more, like she was a shield?
She was no one’s shield. She side-stepped again to let Cage fight his own battle.
“Why yes!” this Teddy exclaimed with an extraordinary amount of enthusiasm. “My Bryson Buck finally bit the bullet and put a ring on it. Haven’t you seen my ring?”
A couple of the guys groaned again as he flapped his hand with its long, well-manicured fingers toward the center of the circle. A wedding band on his left ring finger sparkled in the sunlight, just like the man wearing it. Not a Twilight’s Edward Cullen type of sparkle but more of a sun creating a colorful rainbow type.
Jemma was amazed at how the arrival of Teddy instantly derailed the dark and serious mood of the group.
“What do you need, Theodore?” Dutch grumbled.
Teddy leaned into Cage’s father and grabbed Dutch’s bushy beard at the top and slid his hand down the length and all the way to the older man’s belly, where it settled. “To sit on Santa’s lap and tell him how good I’ve been so far this year.” His fingers walked their way back up to Dutch’s barreled chest. “And you know it makes me feel like a naughty boy when you call me by my full name. I promise Santa, I’ve been good.” He did an exaggerated wink.
Dutch grinned at the man’s flirting, leaving Jemma speechless. The grumpy old grouch turned into someone she didn’t recognize.
She turned and bugged her eyes out at Cage. He simply closed his for a moment and shook his head. Jemma slapped a hand over her mouth to contain her laughter at the change in Dutch.
She also had no idea why this man was calling Dutch Santa, but him doing so rattled a forgotten memory. Of her sitting on Santa’s lap. But not the same “Santa” that had a super hard lap and stinky breath.
She closed her eyes and pushed back any and all of those memories. She didn’t care if any were good. Drawing out the good ones also drew out the bad. They seemed to intertwine with each other no matter how hard she tried to separate them.
Cage touched her back again and her eyes popped open.
Christ, why did he have this effect on her?
“Don’t need your hubbie harrassin’ my ass,” Dutch was saying. “So, gotta keep it to business. What d’you need?”
“Wellllll,” Teddy announced loudly with a sharp single clap and a frown. He flapped a hand toward his Mustang. “I got screwed and not in a good way. Now I need plugged.” He grinned and wiggled his very on-point dark eyebrows.
“A screw or a nail?” Rev asked, not aware he was stepping right into the trap.
Teddy sidled up to him and batted his eyelashes at Rev. “Yes, please.” He waved his hand around between them. “Is there a difference? Is one rougher than the other? Tell me.” The last was whispered.
Rook sighed. “You know, Teddy, we don’t need Adam down here poundin’ on his uniformed chest like—”
“Like a jealous gorilla?”
“And causin’ problems ‘cause you’re a damn flirt,” Rook finished.
Sounded like Teddy’s husband might be one of the local cops, which, of course, with his past, Rook wouldn’t want to tangle with anyone wearing a badge. Cage mentioned he only got out of jail about a year and a half ago and managed to remain free of cuffs and bars since then. Which was a record for his brother, apparently.
But then being a part of the Fury now, if Rook got busted for something stupid, he’d have to deal with more than the law. He’d have to answer to the club’s executive committee.
Trip told Jemma he was determined to keep everyone out of jail or prison when they talked that night at Crazy Pete’s. He probably told her that to ease her fears about Judge and Deacon being a part of the club.
The club president could say that all he wanted, it didn’t mean he could have complete control over the situation. But him feeling so strongly about everyone staying out of trouble could mean the guys worked a little harder at not doing stupid shit that might land their asses behind bars.
Still, it was no guarantee.
“Oh, handsome. He knows good and well I’m a flirt. I can flirt, I can look, I just can’t touch.”
“Is he allowed to do the same?” Reilly asked, her worry about the Shirleys long gone as she smiled at the newcomer.
“Wait.” Teddy’s eyes narrowed on Reilly. “Whoooo are you?” They landed on Jemma next, like he only noticed them. “And you? How did you two ladies slip by me?”
Were women invisible in his world? Or was he just temporarily blinded by the five handsome bikers? Glancing around the circle, she looked at them all in a new light. She could see that happening. All five of them, including Dutch, who was just a little more seasoned than the rest, were hot as fuck.
Teddy’s gaze dropped from Jemma to the baby in the stroller. He bent down toward Dyna and whispered, “Oh, who’s this little muffin?” He wiggled Dyna’s foot.
“That’s Cage’s snot monkey,” Rook said with a grin.
Dutch wacked his oldest son in the gut so hard, Rook grunted and almost bent in half. “That’s my grandbaby Duchess,” said the proud pap-pap.
“Duchess?” Teddy glanced up from the baby to Cage, then he looked at Rook. “Didn’t know either of you two were taken.” He straightened and cocked an eyebrow at Jemma. “But I could see why. You’re not only beautiful but have a great head of hair.” He looked at Reilly. “You, too. And I’m not sure why your tushes haven’t been in my chair at Manes on Main yet.” He pouted.
“You have a salon?” Jemma asked.
“Oh yes, girlfriend. I’m not sure why any of these leather-loving gorillas haven’t told you. Right down on Main Street. Past the square, next to the butcher shop. You can’t miss it. Big lettering on the window.” He raised his hands together in the air and then spread them apart, like he was revealing a marquis or a banner. “Manes on Main. New customers get their first wash and trim for free.”
That was good to know, especially since she’d need a cut soon and wanted to look good for any interviews coming up.
Teddy leaned closer to Jemma and winked. “I’m the best in town. Ask Dutch. I’m the only one he’ll let
touch Santa’s beard.”
“I’m in,” Reilly said. “I haven’t had a cut and lowlights since leaving Philly.”
Teddy spun on her and clapped his hands. “Can’t wait! But, girlfriend, you need to stop tugging on your hair like that. It’ll give you a bald spot.” He stepped up to the blonde and tipped her face up, turning it back and forth as if he was inspecting it. “I see you’re trying to cover that scar. That ain’t but a thing, girl. I can style your hair to minimize it and then show you how to cover the rest with makeup if it bothers you. But honestly, it doesn’t change how gorgeous you are. So,” he plugged one hand on his hip while jutting it out, “who are you?”
“Reilly,” she answered with a smile. “I work here at the garage.”
Teddy clapped his hands again and bounced on his toes. “Oh goodie! That means you’ll be a regular. You let me know when you want to sit your cute tush in my chair and I’ll clear my schedule.”
He moved to stand in front of Jemma next and fluffed the sides of her hair. “Just as gorgeous. The color of your hair is how I like my coffee and men. With lots of cream. And who are you?”
As she opened her mouth to answer, Cage’s hand settled on her lower back again. “This is Judge’s sister Jemma.”
“Judge... Judge...” Teddy stared up at the sky, tapping one finger against his pursed lips. His eyes went wide. “Oh! The big beast of a man with roadkill on his face.” He scrunched up his nose. “I offered to snip snip snip it,” he mimed cutting scissors with his fingers, “to let his handsome face show, but he got a little...”
“Grumpy?” Jemma asked with a muffled snort.
“Growly. Let your brother know the offer is still available. I expect to see you in my chair soon.” Teddy spun on Dutch. “You’re looking a little ragged there, too, Santa. Time for you to come visit.”
“Why does he call Dutch Santa?” Jemma asked Cage in a whisper.
“He dresses up as Santa for the Christmas parade every year.”
“Oh, well... that’s... sweet.” Jemma never remembered Dutch playing Santa as an Original, but then he’d been a lot younger back then. Maybe Dutch was her good Santa memory. She also never went to the Manning Grove Christmas parade. She never even knew there was one. She wondered if it started more recently.
Blood & Bones: Cage (Blood Fury MC Book 5) Page 21
