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Cujo didn’t give a fuck and still wanted to kick the bigger dogs’ asses. His attitude normally made Rook grin but not tonight. Because tonight, nothing was a grinning matter.
“We need to keep vigilant as fuck.” Trip had his voice raised so everyone could clearly hear him even though he stood a head above everyone else on an upside-down plastic milk crate. “We figured they might pull in some more men and that’s exactly what they fuckin’ did.”
A grumble rose around Rook causing Cujo to yap a few times before sneezing twice and groaning as he nudged his little nose against Rook’s neck.
It was one thing if they only had to worry about their fellow brothers, but they had to worry about the women and children, too. Like Rook’s niece Dyna.
The only one currently safe, since he was back at college, was Ry.
But Rook was pretty fucking sure most of the worry Judge couldn’t hide had to do with Cassie and Daisy. Maybe even with his house mouse Saylor since she was now an important part of Judge’s household.
Hell, the enforcer most likely worried about all of them, since it landed on his shoulders to help keep everyone who lived and breathed the Fury colors safe and all in one piece.
At first, Judge didn’t want the position his father had held back when the Originals existed. Rook didn’t doubt the man now regretted reluctantly accepting it. But Judge was the type of man who would keep his word, stick to what he committed to and do what he had to do. No matter what.
“From what Castle could tell, two vans arrived carrying fifteen additional Shirleys with dicks,” Trip continued. “With the number they still have, we’re estimatin’ that gives them twenty-two now. If they don’t bring in more. We can’t assume those two vans are the only ones comin’. However, the more men they bring in, the more women they’re gonna need to produce their spawn. For fuck’s sake, let’s hope this is it.”
“You think they’re only bringin’ in the men for their women? To produce more snot monkeys?” Rev asked from where he perched on the edge of one of the pool tables near Rook.
Trip shook his head. “Fuck no. While the ultimate goal might be to increase their numbers and, most likely, bring in fresh blood, none of us standin’ up here believe that’s the only reason.”
“What are we gonna do about it?” Ozzy asked, leaning against the other pool table, a beer bottle hanging between two fingers and a hand-rolled tucked into the corner of his turned down mouth. “The Originals would’ve just gone up there and massacred them all in one shot. Cleaned up that fuckin’ mess and that would’ve been that. Right, Dutch?”
Sprawled on one of the green bus benches, Rook’s old man only grunted in answer.
Dutch and Ozzy were the only Originals in their midst. At least as of now. Whether more existed out there somewhere, those survivors either didn’t have any interest in coming back to Manning Grove or hadn’t gotten word that the Fury had been resurrected and was actively recruiting more members.
“We ain’t goin’ up that mountain anymore,” Sig announced, taking a step forward and raising his voice. The VP hated the Shirleys more than anyone. If it was up to him, he’d hire one of those fire-fighting tanker planes to drop a load of gas on that mountain and then he’d light the damn match himself. He didn’t give a fuck if women and children were up there when it happened. He’d turn that whole mountain into a charred wasteland. “We’re done doin’ this shit piecemeal. We gotta draw them out. Bring them to us. Draw them into our territory where we have the advantage. Not go into theirs anymore where they have it, which is on Hillbilly Hill.”
Dutch shook his head and muttered, “Ain’t a good idea. Not only dangerous, but I got a grandbaby now. We clash with them in a big fuckin’ way, it’s gonna catch not only the local and state’s attention, but the fuckin’ feds, too. Too fuckin’ old to do any more time or even catch a bullet. And this old fuckin’ man wants to see his Duchess grow up. Don’t want my baby girl visitin’ her grandpappy with a bullet-proof partition separatin’ us.”
“You got a better idea, old man?” Sig asked Rook’s father.
“Dutch is right.” Smoke rolled out of Ozzy’s mouth as he spoke. “If it’s an all-out blood bath, it’s gonna catch the pigs’ attention. Not just the local five-o but the state and possibly the feds, too.”
“Risk we might have to take,” Trip grumbled.
“Not likin’ that risk,” Shade spoke up. “That could mean some of us catchin’ bids. Maybe long ones. Possibly even life.” He now had Chelle’s two daughters and a twelve-year-old son to protect. He used to go up the mountain not caring if he lived or died. That all changed after claiming his ol’ lady and making a new family.
