Ozzy finally stopped in front of the last man. Simon was the youngest out of the three. He’d been way out of his comfort zone while housed at Lycoming County Jail. Dodge and Rook had taken him under their wing, saved his virgin ass from being tapped and becoming a jailhouse bitch, then helped him nut up. The kid had been in way over his head while wearing orange and needed some guidance. Apparently, still did.
The club would give Si the home he needed and help him become the man he wanted to be. Or at least, that was Dodge and Rook’s hope for him. Si had gone to jail for something minor. The problem was, once caught in the system, sometimes it was hard to break free of it. Rook thought of him as a kid, though he was far from it. Si might be twenty-two or twenty-three. Old enough to be a man.
“Namin’ you Bones, kid, since you’re nothin’ but skin and bones. Better work on that. A fuckin’ gust of wind would blow you over.”
Sig dropped his head and shook it.
Trip snorted at Sig’s disgust at the names Ozzy was picking. “Won’t make that mistake again.”
Ozzy turned toward the table, raising both hands with the palms up. “What’s wrong with those names? They suck.”
“Justice, bite that motherfucker’s ass,” Deacon yelled. Justice got up from where he’d been sitting, yawned and moseyed back over to his daddy, taking his good ol’ damn time. Deacon patted him on the head. “Okay, shit in Ozzy’s bed, then, yeah?”
Justice whined and plopped his head in Deacon’s lap for ear scratches.
“They better all have sleds,” Trip warned.
Cage and Rook were already working on that. Only Scar owned one and it needed some work since it spent a lot of time in storage, just like Scar.
Bones needed to learn to ride. Whip said he’d teach him and then help find him a cheap used Harley for now. Whip would be a good one to pair with Bones since they were closer in age and temperament since Whip was on the quieter side.
Castle used to own an Indian but lost it in a divorce. So, they were setting the man up with an old Softail Dutch had. Castle would owe Rook’s old man, but he said he didn’t mind working extra to pay for it.
The prospects would be working for the club, so it would take them a while to earn enough to clear any debt incurred for their sleds, but at least they’d have a rack to sleep in, heat to prevent blue balls, a roof over their heads, food in their gut and plenty of free booze. Plus, opportunity for plenty of pussy as long as it was the right pussy.
The wrong pussy might be the last mistake they made. As their sponsor, Rook would make it clear several more times who was off limits. Not just with names but by pointing them out.
“Motion to accept these three new dog turds,” Sig said loudly.
“Second,” Ozzy said as he went back to his seat.
“All in favor?” Trip asked.
Everyone at the table—except for Cage who couldn’t vote as road captain—yelled out a loud aye.
Trip slammed the gavel on the table. “Now get the fuck outta here. We got real business to handle.” He pointed his gavel at the three new prospects. “Don’t fuck up.”
Rook jerked his chin up at his brothers, all of them wearing smirks and probably thinking about how they’re going to torture the new recruits. Rook shook his head and followed the newest Fury prospects out and down the stairs.
Chapter Four
Jet leaned against the entryway wall that separated the kitchen and the living room in her aunt and uncle’s farmhouse. Her eyes bounced from one Bryson to the next as they crowded into the living room. While it was a big house, with the way the family was expanding, it was beginning to feel small.
Since Teddy and Adam got married last Christmas, and Jet moved to Manning Grove right after that in January, they all decided it was best to start combining family holidays. Like today.
Everyone’s belly was full from the insane amount of food served at the early dinner.
She should be getting a few hours of sleep before her midnight shift but it was difficult to pull herself away from the people she loved on Thanksgiving.
But it wasn’t family or the holiday that were on Jet’s mind.
No, it was what was happening on that mountain and the reason the Blood Fury MC was involved. It had been eating at her.
It shouldn’t since it didn’t bother any of her fellow officers, who had been working for the PD a lot longer than her. Or the off-duty cops sitting in the room before her, including the chief of police, her oldest cousin, Max. The man who hired her. The same man who could fire her.
It was kind of funny, Max wanted to diversify his force by hiring another woman. But really, by bringing in another Bryson, he didn’t quite do that. While Leah and Jet now made up the only two women on the twelve “man” force, both of them were Brysons. Leah by marriage and Jet by blood.
That made six Brysons, including the chief, working for the Manning Grove PD. Six. But it bothered Jet that five Brysons, other than her, ignored the Guardians of Freedom and whatever they were up to. She wanted to know why.
When she first joined the department last January, she got the nickel tour by her platoon leader, Corporal Rivera, who said the same thing Max had. Leave that mountain the hell alone.
Which meant leave the Shirleys alone. Unless they came to town and made trouble.
No one was to go up that mountain unless they absolutely had to and if they did, either the state or county emergency response team was to be called in to assist. Max didn’t want any of his officers going up that dirt lane without heavily-armed backup.
Clearly, that meant the Shirleys were bad news.
Maybe Max wanted to avoid the same as what happened in Waco, Texas, with David Koresh. He didn’t want women and children getting caught up in a war between a cult and law enforcement and possibly paying the ultimate price.
Even though she’d been warned, she’d been doing drive-bys down Copperhead Road at least two times every night she worked, looking for Rook and the other biker named Easy.
Easy.
She shook her head. She wondered how Randy Dietrich earned the nickname Rook.
Didn’t matter. What did matter was she hadn’t seen either of them or any other Fury member on Copperhead Road. She also hadn’t spotted any more vans heading up the Shirleys’ mountain lane.
It didn’t mean they weren’t arriving during the daylight hours. It also didn’t mean Rook and Easy weren’t going up there in the light of day, either. And maybe even other Fury members, too.
But those bikers had to have a reason to be heading up to somewhere they didn’t belong in the middle of the night.
Jet wanted to know why. She planned on finding out, too, one way or another.
Her aunt and uncle, along with Jet’s parents, were settled in next to the fire as the babies were being cuddled, the younger children played games on the floor and the older children had their noses buried in electronics. The middle generation sat around talking, laughing and drinking. With three generations of Brysons, the living room was tightly packed and loud, like normal for one of their family gatherings.
She bit back a yawn. She’d only gotten about three hours of sleep before dragging herself from her warm, comfortable bed and into a hot shower, so she could be on time for the huge Thanksgiving spread.