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Razor shot Buck dead for being betrayed. Ox, the sergeant at arms at the time and Judge’s old man, ended up taking out Razor in retribution for killing the club’s prez. Then shit just went bat-shit crazy from there. Nobody trusted anybody and the brotherhood turned on itself. It was either duck and run, or go out with guns blazing.
Most decided to go out with guns blazing and the majority ended up dead, in prison or on the run.
While for Ozzy, it was a perfect cover for what he had come there to do, for everyone else, it was total devastation and destruction. For the club, for the brotherhood, for the families. Especially for the kids left behind.
No one knew who all was left standing at the end unless there was obvious proof. Like when Ox and his ol’ lady were hauled away by the pigs. Or when Sig witnessed Razor shooting Buck in the damn back in the middle of fucking his mother.
Sig raised his dark eyes from the photo still lying on the bar in front of him, then without a word, turned and walked toward the door.
“Hey, need you to look through these, in case you remember anyone,” Ozzy shouted to his retreating back.
Sig didn’t react to Ozzy’s words, he just continued as if he hadn’t heard him and walked out of one of The Barn’s side doors, slamming it behind him.
“Goddamn it, Dutch,” Ozzy growled. “You had to fuck with him, you asshole.”
“What? He can’t handle lookin’ at some fuckin’ photos? Since when did he turn into a pussy?”
“If I gotta explain it to you…” Trip said with a shake of his head. “Fuck that. Ain’t gonna waste my fuckin’ breath.”
“Back then we weren’t goddamn soft like you all are now,” Dutch grumbled. “We didn’t bend a fuckin’ knee to our women. We didn’t get hurt feelin’s. Or cry about shit. It was a different time.”
“Yeah? And look what fuckin’ happened,” Judge reminded him. “And, just to be clear, nobody here’s bendin’ a fuckin’ knee to our women.”
Dutch grunted. “Yeah, keep tellin’ yourself that. All of you got your nuts in a vise and your women are the ones crankin’ it tighter. Pinchin’ those nads ’til you sound like sissies.”
Ozzy noticed Trip’s fingers tense on the photo he was holding and his spine snap straight.
“It’s called fuckin’ respect. Somethin’ the Originals never had for their fuckin’ women,” Judge growled, side-eyeing Trip and noticing the same reaction.
“Don’t think you should be one to be givin’ out relationship advice, old man,” Rook said, digging through the pile of photos.
“Or parentin’ advice,” Cage, Dutch’s youngest son, added.
“Can we drop this shit and concentrate on tryin’ to figure out who the fuck Marshall Graham is?” Ozzy barked. “That’s the past we should be concentratin’ on. Not who’s bendin’ a goddamn knee to their ol’ ladies. Or whose momma was a whore.”
Jesus Christ, it was a Fury fuckfest back then. He didn’t think any of the Originals or their women were loyal. And Bebe certainly wasn’t a good example of a mother or ol’ lady.
“Yeah, would be nice to know if Shay’s the daughter of an Original,” Trip said as he kept sorting through the pile. His movement remained a lot stiffer, like he was trying to hold on to his temper.
Sig and Trip had issues with each other in the beginning. But in the past three years, Ozzy had noticed their relationship becoming more solid. Especially after Sig found Red. Trip tended to protect his younger brother and wanted to keep him out of the joint and on a positive path. He didn’t want anything triggering Sig to make him spin out of control.
Trip was a great leader, a million times better than his father, so if Shay was a daughter of an Original, the prez might be able to convince her to stay in town. A possible benefit to Ozzy.
That right there was the whole damn reason they were looking at these photos. Not to take a trip down memory fucking lane.
Trip picked up a black and white picture of Pete. “Takin’ this one, Dutch. For Stella. Gonna blow this one up for her and put it up in the bar.”
“Lemme see that one.” Ozzy plucked it from Trip’s fingers and stared at Liz’s father. Now that they knew Liz and Pete were related, he could see a slight resemblance.
Stella and Liz looked nothing alike, though. Liz must have mostly taken after her mother, the same with Stella. Though, Stella looked more like Crazy Pete than Liz.
“Fuck, here’s one of Tin Man,” Judge said, staring at another Polaroid.
“And look, here’s one with Ham, Tigger and Beans. Remember them?” Rook asked, his eyes narrowed on the photo he was holding.
Ozzy forgot about the photo in his hand and pulled the one out of Rook’s.
