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Rook cringed at the thought of having to fuck Shirley snatch. He’d rather have his nuts cut off.
He could lose his fucking nuts if he didn’t pay attention and triggered one of their booby traps.
He hated this fucking mountain and hated the Guardians of fucking Freedom, the stupid name of the Shirleys’ so-called sovereign stupid-ass nation.
Rook bit back a snort.
A cult. That was what they were, no more, no less. The Shirleys reminded him of the followers of Jim Jones or David Koresh. Or a hillbilly militia.
From the info Judge passed on to him and Easy once Shade went missing, the younger brother thought they might start bringing in more males from other locations, like the Ohio clan, and then take on the Fury.
War.
That was what Shade had thought. That the uncle-brothers were preparing for war.
The hair on the back of Rook’s neck spiked at the possibility. The Fury had been destroyed once, they would not let it happen again. If the hillbilly goat fuckers wanted war, then the Fury would give them one.
Only, Trip wanted to avoid that shit at all costs. Not only because their brothers were creating families with women and children, but because it would cause issues for the MC with law enforcement. Most likely of the federal, state and local kind. Or all of the above.
No one in his brotherhood wanted to be in their sights.
No one in his brotherhood wanted to do any more time in the joint, either. Rook especially. Been there, done that, though he didn’t have the prison tats to prove it. But he did come away with some valuable and invaluable lessons and experiences. Some he never wanted to learn or try again.
About fifteen minutes prior, he’d gotten a text from Easy saying he was heading in a different direction back to the Honda.
Rook had to assume Easy hadn’t found shit, either, and that wasn’t good. They still had no fucking clue what happened to Shade. On their first trip up, they tried to check a lot of the buildings. Now they were checking the surrounding woods. But they were only staying for short stretches of time when they went up. The longer they stayed on the mountain, the higher the chances they’d get caught, injured or killed.
One missing Fury member was already one too many.
He slipped in some mud and leaves, barely catching himself before almost landing on his ass.
He hated this fucking mountain.
He finally saw the spot where he’d parked the Honda sedan he’d borrowed from the garage without Dutch knowing.
Easy was already there waiting on him. Rook almost didn’t notice him at first leaning against the car since E was wearing all black, just like Rook.
“Nothin’?” he asked when he got within hearing range.
Easy shook his head. “Woulda texted you if I found somethin’.”
“Maybe they buried him.” That possibility churned Rook’s gut.
E winced. “Been lookin’ for that, too. No fresh graves.” He sounded hopeful.
“Fuck,” Rook muttered and dragged both hands down his face. “If he don’t show up soon...”
“Need to know either way, brother.”
“Yeah,” Rook answered on a sigh. “Gonna kill him if he’s alive.”
“Kinda defeats the point of us lookin’ for him, don’t it?” Easy’s normally easy laugh sounded a bit strained. “Anyway, found a new stash of weapons, though, and also stumbled across a little shack where they’re makin’ ammo. Thinkin’ as soon as they have enough, they’re comin’ for us.”
“We should steal the weapons but leave the ammo. Don’t trust their reloaded casings.”
“Agreed,” Easy said. “‘Specially if they’re doin’ it the same half-assed way they’re makin’ meth.” He grinned when he added, “And babies.”
“Besides the weapons, they’re gonna need a bigger army.” Seven men could still do a lot of damage. There were only thirteen patched Fury members, plus two prospects, right now. Even so, that meant the Fury was double the size of the Guardians of Incest. But he’d like to have a better advantage than that. Better weapons, reliable ammo, more bodies. More brains. The element of surprise would help, too.
“Besides the army they’re already breedin’?” E asked.
“They got a shitload of spawn but most are too young yet.” At least the ones he’d seen.
“Not all of ‘em. They probably can hold a gun before they’re off their momma’s tit. Definitely long before they’re old enough to breed.”
“They breed their bitches pretty fuckin’ young,” Rook reminded him.
“Yeah. Saw a young one tonight. In one of the isolated cabins higher up. Couldn’t be more than... fuck, maybe thirteen. Fourteen at the most. Her fuckin’ belly was about to burst open with another Shirley spawn.”
“Christ,” Rook muttered. “As soon as they bleed, they breed.”
“Yeah. Should feel bad for her, but really fuckin’ don’t.”
“They don’t know any different.” That still was no excuse.
“Don’t mean it’s right.”
“Yeah,” Rook agreed, “it ain’t right. Shit’s gotta stop.”
“We can only do so much without us drawin’ heat. Takin’ out those motherfuckin’ bastards is one thing. Women and children is another.”
