Total pages in book: 116
Estimated words: 113353 (not accurate)
Estimated Reading Time in minutes: 567(@200wpm)___ 453(@250wpm)___ 378(@300wpm)
Estimated words: 113353 (not accurate)
Estimated Reading Time in minutes: 567(@200wpm)___ 453(@250wpm)___ 378(@300wpm)
“She can be pissed all she fuckin’ wants,” Judge said, clearly not giving a fuck.
“That’s what I told her. Didn’t like that answer. Sure I’m gonna hear about it later.”
“Any-fuckin-way,” Judge said. “There’s twelve of us without Dutch—”
“Fuck that!” Cage’s father bellowed. “They got my Duchess. My ass is goin’ up there to get her back!”
“All right...” Judge continued, “There’s thirteen of us. Some are gonna head up and take care of business. Some are gonna sit down at the bottom of the lane, watch for pigs, watch for anyone comin’ and goin’. Prevent anyone from comin’ up our rear flank. Some are gonna spread out in the woods, make sure no one sneaks off with Dyna.”
If his daughter was still alive.
For fuck’s sake, she better be alive.
A single downy hair better not be out of place on her head.
If there was...
Well, those backwoods motherfuckers would get what was coming to them whether there was or there wasn’t.
But still... there had better not be.
Because Hell hath no fury like the Blood Fury.
Every last one of that clan would be begging for Cage to end it for them.
Begging.
His club needed to move.
And now.
They’ve jawed long enough.
Judge quickly laid out in more detail what each group would do, using Shade’s intel. And when they were done, the stomping of boots against the wood plank floor and the hollers of warriors heading into battle rose to the rafters.
“Got somethin’ to say first,” Cage called out, catching everyone’s attention before they filed out.
No better time than now to resurrect the Original’s motto. It was the only one they had, it would have to do.
“For one! For all!” Cage yelled. “For our brothers...”
“We live and die!” came the answering roar.
“Let’s fuckin’ ride!” shouted Judge and led them all out of The Barn.
Chapter Twenty
Their phones were on silent. Most of them carried the weight of at least one gun under their cuts. A few had knives strapped in various locations on their person.
And everyone was on high alert.
The sun had lowered behind the trees, giving them patches of shade to move between and remain undetected. The biggest worry as they traveled on foot was the possibility of booby traps.
They went up assuming the rumor was true, that the mountain was littered with them. However, nobody knew where and what kind.
It made for a slow go. And the darkness was creeping in like a homicidal stalker.
Whip and Easy were posted at the bottom near the road. The rest were scattered in various locations, moving closer to the clan’s compound in the shape of a tightening noose.
All kept an eye open on their surroundings and also their footing. Looking for trip wires. Disturbed undergrowth. Anything suspicious hidden among the trees.
They searched for markings on tree trunks. Those fuckers had to mark the location of their own booby traps somehow.
Cage was with Shade and Rook. They were the “team” tasked to locate and get Dyna out.
No matter what.
The rest were circling the clearing of the main compound, where the livestock barn, the large main house and a few outbuildings of various sizes were situated.
It also included the shed where the Shirleys had imprisoned Autumn and they’d...
Cage sucked dank forest air deeply into his lungs.
The thought they could have snagged Jemma and what they could’ve done to her...
They didn’t.
But they did have their daughter. Jemma was relying on him to bring Dyna home safely.
Dressed in camo from head to toe, Shade stopped behind a tree. All of them had shed their cuts before leaving and dressed in dark clothing. Black jeans, if they had them, and dark or black shirts. No one wore anything with designs or colors. Nothing that could catch someone’s eye.
They needed to do this smartly. Not become targets themselves.
The Shirleys had shot up Trip’s wrecker when he tried to repo one of their piece of shit vehicles a while back. If they did that for a rust bucket, they’d do worse to keep his baby.
Shade pointed ahead and lifted both hands with his fingers spread. Ten.
The edge of the clearing was ten yards ahead.
The crack of a twig had Cage’s head twisting toward his brother, who had frozen in place and grimaced at his mistake.
All three heads swiveled back toward the compound.
Besides their own footsteps, their collective breathing and his heart beating in his ears, the mountain was eerily quiet.
Cage took his cues from Shade who had learned the lay of the land—or, in this case, mountain. His club brother jerked his chin and moved forward.
Rook and Cage followed him, stepping carefully and moving as quietly as they could.
They were no Army Rangers, no Navy Seals, no Green Berets. Neither had time in the service, but they both had done time.
They had no special skills other than being mechanics and good with their hands. But they both knew how to survive prison and they had a purpose. An important one.