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“Yeah,” Rev answered him, still hauling around one of the crying toddlers. “They’re good. They’re waitin’ on us.”
Thank fuck.
When they got to Copperhead Road, Easy was waiting, looking anxious.
“Thank fuck!” the young brother yelled, turned and waved his arm in a signal.
Within seconds, Whip pulled up with the plain black van used for the Tioga Pet Crematorium business.
Judge took the hands of both Shirley boys, guided them a few feet back up the mountain road and pointed upward. He gave them both a gentle, but firm, nudge and watched for a second while the two boys joined hands and began to walk.
Cage figured the two Shirley boys were related to each other. Probably brother-cousins.
Judge jogged like Sasquatch over to the van and climbed into the passenger side.
Even though it was a tight fit, the rest of them piled into the back, sitting on the floor since the van had no back seats.
Before Easy could even drive away, Trip was on his phone. “Stel, we got Dyna. On our way back. Got two injured. Grab Granddaddy’s first aid kit from the upstairs’ closet. Tell Jemma we’ll need her nursin’ skills. Will be there ASAP.”
Now that he could breathe a little easier, he took the time to unwrap the filthy fucking blanket and check Dyna from head to toe. Surprisingly, she had a semi-clean cloth diaper pinned on her. Other than needing a bath to wash off the Shirley filth and a bottle to fill her tummy, his baby girl was perfect.
Thank fuck.
His eyes burned as he stared into Dyna’s gray-blue ones. He tried to blink the sting away as she smiled up at him and let out a surprising squeak, her arms and legs jerking. Then her face scrunched up, turned red and she began to cry.
Best. Fucking. Sound. Ever.
He closed his eyes and simply listened for a moment.
She was alive, she was well and back in his arms.
“Boy.”
He glanced up at his father, who didn’t hide the look of relief on his weathered face as he stared at his granddaughter in Cage’s arms.
“Good fuckin’ job.”
Damn.
Cage leaned back against the side of the van and propped Dyna in the crease of his thighs before glancing across at Trip. “We’re not done.”
He needed to hear that reassurance. He had gotten it from Judge, but he needed to hear it from their president, too.
Trip’s expression was grim. “Yeah, we’re not done. This was the beginnin’ of their end.”
He could no longer hear Dyna crying when the inside of the van became deafening with all the hollers and stomping of his brothers’ boots.
Fuck yeah. For our brothers we live and die!
As soon as the van pulled up to the back of the farmhouse, the women were running out the back door and down the porch steps.
“Get them inside,” Trip ordered their brothers in regards to Ozzy and Dodge. “You grab the kit?” he yelled out to his ol’ lady.
“Yes, in the kitchen.” Stella held the screen door open to let the guys inside.
Cage had waited for the two injured men to get out of the van first before climbing out of the sliding side door with an upset Dyna in his arms.
When Jemma rushed over, their eyes met for only a split second before she took Dyna from him, giving her a quick onceover, then pressing her lips all over the crying baby’s face.
“She’s okay.” Jemma tried to soothe Dyna, but his daughter was having none of it.
“Yeah, she’s okay. Hungry. Gotta get her a bottle.”
Without taking her eyes off the baby, she asked, “Who’s hurt? Just Ozzy and Dodge?”
“Yeah. They were shootin’ at us.”
“Oh my God,” she muttered. “What the fuck, Chris?” She spun on her heels and headed back up the porch steps and into the kitchen.
Cage followed.
Trip was inside giving orders to anyone uninjured. “Clear the table. Get Jemma whatever she needs to get these two fixed up.”
Their prez wasn’t the only one shouting demands, so was Judge. “Saylor, get Daisy out of here. Ry, walk them back to the house and stay with them ‘til we get back. Hear?”
“Yes,” Judge’s son said. Looking shell-shocked, he was taking in everything around him. The men, the blood, the injuries and a wailing Dyna in Jemma’s arms.
Welcome to the Fury, kid.
“Sis, gonna have to give up the baby. Need your help,” Judge told Jemma.
“Get Ozzy up on the table. Someone cut off his jeans. Dodge, sit down in that chair,” Jemma ordered, pointing. “Take off your shirt.”
She could still get bossy while holding tightly onto a wailing Dyna. Cage had felt the same way once his daughter was in his arms. He didn’t want to let go. So, he understood it.
“One of you ladies clean up Dodge’s arm so I can see how extensive the damage is.”
With a last kiss to Dyna’s head, she glanced up at Cage. Her face was stony, unreadable. “Take her back to the trailer, give her a bath and put her in a fresh diaper. Give her a bottle. She’ll need a nap after all this shit. As soon as I’m done here, I’ll be home.”
