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The problem was, the Shirleys had been staying in groups so it had been hard to single them out lately.
But this late at night, he was hoping most of the men had either gone to bed or to breed their brood bitches before getting some shut-eye. All except for the one or two on guard at the first clearing where their clan leader lived.
Since Sig took out Vernon Sr., his oldest son, Vernon Jr., had stepped into his boots. He’d taken his father’s wives as his own and continued Senior’s legacy of building their sovereign nation of inbred goat-fucking rednecks.
Rook wondered if Junior’s own mother was now one of his wives.
He swallowed the rising bile and continued climbing higher through the woods. They really needed to stop for the season and begin again in spring. Cover was now sparse and the darkness of night wasn’t enough, especially when the moon was out, like it was tonight. He’d talk to Trip and Judge about suspending the Clan Plan for now.
But not tonight.
No, tonight he needed this.
Then he’d find another way to work out his anger and frustration.
Billie was always an option... Whatever Rook could dish out, the sweet butt took willingly and returned the favor many times over. Sometimes he couldn’t even walk after she was done. But at least both of them parted with a smile. The best part was she wasn’t a clinger, a problem when it came to some of the others.
One thing was for sure, one dose of Billie’s medicine lasted Rook a while.
But Jet Bryson would probably fuck that up, too. Just remembering his hand squeezing her delicate neck while her eyes held no fear... When they should’ve. Remembering her encouraging him to kill her or kiss her... When he wanted to do both....
It instantly got his dick hard.
The problem was, once he started kissing her, really fucking kissing her, he wouldn’t be able to stop. Not until he took everything he wanted from her and gave her whatever she foolishly wanted in return. The raw want and need she’d been unable to hide on her face.
Or maybe didn’t want to hide.
She apparently didn’t give a fuck that he knew.
He’d also watched her closely when he was dancing with the brunette last night. Her reaction was the reason he took the woman up to Dodge’s apartment while Jet watched. Originally, he had no plans to share her with his club brother and former cellie, until he realized he wouldn’t be able to follow through with the intentions he had whispered into her ear.
Unfortunately, while he whispered those words into one woman’s ear, he had imagined he was whispering them into another’s. The dark-haired woman sitting on a stool at the other end of the bar.
He came to a dead stop and ground the heels of his palms into his eyes. Stop it, you stupid motherfucker.
He needed an exorcism.
Or a lobotomy.
He growled, dropped his hands and continued, picking his way more carefully on the dark, treacherous path that became narrower the further he went. A path originally created by whatever four-legged creatures lived within those woods.
His heart leapt into his throat and then dropped out of his chest as his foot hit something he couldn’t see. Panic swept through him as his boot got caught and whatever snagged it tightened. Before he could pull his foot free, he was launched helplessly into the air like a drunk on a trampoline. He bounced a few times as the tree branch above him creaked loudly, then his body came to a rest hanging upside down by one leg like a side of fucking beef.
What the fuck!
He’d been snared.
Fucking snared like a damn animal.
And now he hung vulnerable in a fucking tree.
The thick tree branch above him creaked dangerously again and he hoped to fuck it didn’t snap from his weight and crash to the ground, taking him along for the ride.
He’d be dead. Or wish he was.
He grabbed for his cell phone as it began to slide from his unsnapped cargo pocket. As he tried to catch it, it slipped through his fingers and he helplessly watched it drop onto the dirt below him with a dull thump. Of course, out of fucking reach.
He stretched his arm toward the ground as far as he could and tried to reach it, anyway. The gap between his fingertips and his electronic lifeline had to be at least three feet.
“What the fuck!” he growled, trying to stem his rising panic. Blood rushed into his head, his whole chest now thumped with each heartbeat, his vision was narrowing and his ears rung so loudly, he almost couldn’t hear his own thoughts.
He could very well die tonight if he didn’t figure a way out of this.
Dumbass he was, he never set up the voice commands on his phone. If he had, then maybe he could’ve called one of his brothers for help. Goddamn it!
