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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. His 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.
