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Not yet.
But he’d have to find the strength to do it soon. Because being discovered could create a problem he’d never be able to solve.
As their tongues tangled, she spread her legs even wider, giving him plenty of room to sink deep inside her. Just as her hips were surging up to encourage him to do just that, ZZ Top’s Tube Snake Boogie ringtone on his phone blared, making him freeze.
“What the fuck?” he muttered.
They both twisted their heads to look at the time. It was almost two in the fucking morning.
She lifted up on both elbows. “Who’s calling you this late… or early?”
“No fuckin’ clue,” he groaned as he kept his hips cushioned between her thighs but stretched his arm out far enough to snag his phone off her nightstand.
By the time he grabbed it, the ringing had stopped. He scrolled through his missed call list and saw it was Rev.
Why the fuck would Rev be calling him in the middle of the night?
Unless…
ZZ Top filled the room again and he quickly swiped the screen to answer it.
Before he could even grunt a greeting, Rev was already talking. “Trip ordered me to find your ass since no one knows where the fuck you are, brother.” Rook could hear the edge in his voice, which instantly put Rook on edge.
“Fuck,” he groaned, scrubbing a hand down his face since reality just smacked him in it.
“Where the fuck are you?”
“Found a hot piece at Pete’s. Landed in her bed.”
Jet’s body jerked sharply beneath him and he glanced down at her. What the fuck else was he going to say? He was just about to fuck Jet Bryson for the hundredth time?
Right.
“He’s pissed ‘cause he told everyone to stick close and you didn’t stick close.”
“What’s goin’ on?”
“Castle spotted the Shirleys gatherin’ their men, along with their weapons, and loadin’ up a coupla vans.”
“Shit.”
“Yeah, shit. They’re probably on the move now. Gotta get your ass back here.”
“Who’s watchin’ the lane?” Though, Rook doubted the Shirleys would just drive up the damn farm lane like they were invited. However, they did only share two working brain cells among their whole clan so if they did, no one should be surprised.
“Bones.”
“Who’s watchin’ the perimeter?”
“The rest of the prospects.”
He nodded even though Rev couldn’t see it. “Women and kids?”
“Already on their way to Mansfield.”
He nodded again, more to reassure himself than anything. “Good.” With the women and children safe, they had less to worry about and could concentrate on whatever shit was going down.
“Just a warnin’, Trip’s blowin’ a fuckin’ gasket.”
Rook ignored that. Like Jet, Trip was a problem he’d have to deal with later, but not now. “Dodge and Ozzy?”
“Already here,” Rev answered.
“Shade?”
“On his way.”
“What about my old man?”
Rev hesitated just long enough for Rook to catch it. “Not sure about him. Was told to find you, not Dutch.”
“All right.” He rolled off Jet with his phone still pressed to his ear. “On my way.”
“Better be quick.”
Fucking motherfucker.
His screen went dark and he threw the phone on the end of the bed as he yanked on his clothes.
He spared a glance for the warm, naked woman in the warm bed. She was now sitting up, wearing nothing but a huge frown.
He was sure he didn’t look happy, either. He expected the Shirleys to move soon but not this soon.
“Where are you going? What’s going on?”
He shook his head as he finished dressing and sat on the edge of the bed to pull on his socks and lace up his boots. “Gotta go. Club business.”
“Rook, don’t shut me out.”
He had no choice. He got to his feet, shrugged on his jacket and tucked his phone into his back pocket. “Gotta go. Keep Cujo for me, yeah?”
“Why? What’s going on?” she shouted, beginning to climb out of bed.
“Stay in bed,” he ordered. He softened his voice a tad to say, “I’ll call you later.”
“You don’t have my damn number!” she shouted as he rushed from her bedroom, out into the late February night, back to the farm…
And, worse, the unknown.
Chapter Twenty-One
“We’re finishin’ this once and for all. Tonight.” Trip had slipped into military mode as they gathered around the spot where Easy, Shade and Rook had stored the stolen Shirley weapons.
They had confiscated long guns and a few handguns or whatever was on or nearby a Shirley when they got culled from the hillbilly herd. It couldn’t be more fitting that their own guns would be used against them.
“Gotta keep our eyes and ears open and our mouths shut,” Trip continued as he handed out rifles and shotguns to everyone standing in a half-circle in front of the tiny, abandoned hunting shack. Shade had discovered it in the woods months ago. They assumed Trip’s grandfather had used it during deer season. Or squirrel or what-the-fuck-ever season hunters killed animals.
