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“Or stray dog,” Rook added, thinking of the little beast most likely warm and snoring in Jet’s bed.
Where Rook should be right now, too.
“Bein’ a fuckin’ father is nerve-wrackin’,” his younger brother admitted, scraping fingers through his disheveled hair.
“I know.”
“No, you don’t. You think you fuckin’ know ’til you have one of your own. Then… You. Will. Know,” Cage emphasized each word. “No wonder men go bald or gray early. The pressure of not fuckin’ up is overwhelmin’. Definitely got more respect for Dutch bein’ able to keep us breathin’ and with all our limbs.”
Rook could hear the stress and strain in Cage’s voice. “Look. I worry about Dyna, too. Maybe not like you, but I still worry. We all do. This is why we needed to finish this shit with the Shirleys tonight. Now…” Rook growled in frustration. “Now we don’t know what the fuck’s goin’ on.”
“Think someone tipped off the feds?” Cage asked, sounding just as frustrated.
“Had to.”
“One of us?”
“No fuckin’ way.” Rook shook his head as they reached the shack where a couple of the others were already unloading their guns and knives into the run-down building.
“Local pigs?”
Rook lifted a shoulder and dropped it. “Maybe.”
“You’d think if the local five-o knew what the fuck was goin’ on up there, they’d be crawlin’ all over our asses, too.”
“Yeah, don’t make sense. Figurin’ it wasn’t any of them.” He sure as fuck hoped not.
Within twenty minutes, they had made their way back to the rear of the bunkhouse without seeing any feds—or getting shot at—made their way inside and directly to The Barn where almost everyone else was already waiting near the fireplace, warming themselves up.
Rook was relieved to see the fire burning strong and headed in that direction himself. The cold had even penetrated to the very center of his bones. He needed several shots of whiskey to warm his insides while the fire warmed his outside.
He snagged a bottle of Jack from Whip’s fingers and guzzled down enough to make a fire light in his gut. He shoved the whiskey bottle back at Whip and glanced around to see who was still missing.
Just two of the new prospects. Castle and Bones. All thirteen patched members, along with Scar, Tater and Possum, were now gathered in The Barn with ruddy cheeks, frozen crystals accumulated in their beards and their hands rubbing together to bring back some feeling. Some even were rocking from boot to boot to get their blood flowing.
With relief, he spotted Dutch doing the same on the other side of the hearth, a cigarette hanging precariously from his lips. “Boy,” Rook’s old man called out to Whip. “Bring that fuckin’ whiskey over here. My old bones need that shit more than you.”
Whip jerked his chin up and headed around the fireplace to his club brother and boss.
“So?” Sig started, clearly agitated. His fingers were twitching and every muscle in his body appeared locked solid. Clearly, not from the cold.
The VP’s patience was slim on a good day. Right now, it was nonexistent. He looked about to beat someone to death before spitting on their body and pissing on it, too.
“Someone better start talkin’ soon,” Sig growled, now pacing stiffly. “Tonight was supposed to be the end of this bullshit. The end of them. Did those motherfuckin’ feds fuck that up?”
“Seems so.” Trip sighed as his eyes tracked his about-to-blow half-brother. “Here’s the thing… We got no choice but let the Feds do some of our dirty work at this point. The only good thing is it’ll keep our hands clean for now and whatever they don’t clean up for us, we’ll handle once they’re through.”
“Our hands are hardly clean, prez,” Shade murmured nearby.
Trip’s nostrils flared as he glanced at Shade. “Yeah, got that. But those rednecks ain’t gonna share shit with a government the clan don’t recognize as their own. Not even to cut a damn deal. They’d rather die first before givin’ any badge-wearing pigs even the slightest help.”
Judge grumbled, “Let’s hope they stick like hot tar to their hatred of anyone with a shiny shield.”
“Or to anyone who announces that they’re from the federal government,” Trip added. “Look, we can’t do shit about it right now. Come light of day, and once the dust settles, we’ll see what we can find out and regroup. Figure out who’s still up the mountain, who ain’t. Who’s still a threat. It sucks, but it’s all we can do for now. In the meantime, we continue to stay vigilant, keep close and keep communication open.”
“Should I tell the women it’s safe to come home?” Deacon asked.
Trip shook his head. “Not yet. The women need to stay with Reese ’til this all shakes out. ’Til we got better details and see who all the feds scooped up in their net. Still could be some stray dingleberries hangin’ off the hillbilly goat’s ass.”
