Blood & Bones: Judge (Blood Fury MC Book 3) Read online

  “Wanna see your tits,” he demanded as she began to climb on his lap.

  “Not for a fifty.”

  “How much more?”

  “’Nother twenty.”

  She was fucking crazy. He’d seen them before at the warehouse. They weren’t worth a fucking twenty. Fuck it.

  He held his breath as she wiggled herself into place, grabbed his dick, holding it where it needed to be and...

  And...

  Fuck. Fuck. Fuck!

  He groaned as his load shot out of his balls and into the wrap before he was even able to stick it in. “Fuck!”

  The bitch snorted.

  Judd didn’t find any of it funny.

  “Wanna eat me out, instead, for that fifty?”

  He tried not to gag. “No.”

  Molly shrugged, climbed off him and yanked her skirt down. “Better luck next time, kid.” Then she dug into his jeans and yanked out the money he had tucked in the pocket. She slid open the door and disappeared into the dark.

  He dropped his head back onto the seat, closed his eyes and blew out a breath. He just paid fifty bucks for something he could’ve done himself.

  He yanked off the full wrap and tossed it onto the van floor with a curse. Then he yanked up his jeans and climbed out.

  He was still a goddamn virgin.

  He had already told Trip and Sig he was getting some tonight with Molly. Now he was going to have to lie.

  He cautiously made his way out of the car lot, crossed the railroad tracks and hoofed it two more blocks home.

  When a pig mobile raced past him, he hid behind a bush. His night had already gone to shit and him getting caught out after curfew would just be the fucking cherry on the...

  Yeah, cherry on the virgin.

  He blew out a frustrated breath and kept going. His pop wouldn’t care if he was out after curfew, but he’d care if 5-0 brought him home.

  Last time the pigs dropped Judd off, his pop beat him with a belt. Not for being out late, but for getting caught.

  So now Judd was more careful. Way more careful.

  As he turned the corner, he froze.

  Their whole street was full of pigs. Not just local 5-0, but ones who were heavily armed, wearing all kinds of protective gear and hunkered down behind their vehicles and facing the old, run-down duplex they lived in. They looked like they were headed to war.

  What the fuck was going on?

  Did the neighbor in the other half of the house beat the shit out of his wife again? Even in all the times they’d shown up next door, he’d never seen a response like this before. Maybe this time he’d killed her instead of just giving her a black eye or a broken arm.

  Judd ducked behind an overgrown bush and peeked through it.

  What the fuck? The pigs were all focused on their front door, not the neighbor’s, who shared the same porch.

  Judd’s heart began to thump. The pigs had their lights off, no sirens, no radios, and weren’t saying a word.

  Holy shit. Maybe they were arresting his pop for killing Razor and Tin Man.

  His mom told him that Ox had shot Razor between the eyes in retaliation for killing the club prez, Buck. And then Tin Man tried to take Ox out for killing the man’s brother. Judd’s pop blasted Tinny right in the chest, dropping him right where he stood.

  So, yeah, maybe all the 5-0 out front had something to do with that since it only happened a few days ago.

  Maybe somebody snitched.

  And if somebody snitched...

  He needed to sneak around back, get into the house and warn his pop.

  But as he made his way through the dark, sticking behind the shrubbery, he came out behind the house, only to see the same shit as out front. Too many pigs, wearing vests and carrying high-powered weapons. Plus, a couple more local cops.

  There was no way to get to the back door. They’d stop him first.

  Something huge was going down.

  Glass breaking at the back of the house, and a flash bang that scared the shit out of him, had him hitting the ground hard. A whole bunch of shouting quickly followed, the sound of doors being busted in at the front and back, shouts that included the words “arrest warrant,” and pigs moving everywhere.

  Holy fuck!

  Judd was afraid to move, and he couldn’t follow them in, anyway, because some of the pigs remained standing guard outside. Probably to make sure his pop didn’t escape out the back. He watched the pigs, who had their guns drawn, enter the house, shouting to one another as they cleared each room.

  Almost all the windows were propped open since it was ball-sweating hot out and the fucking piece of shit house they lived in didn’t have air conditioning. Because of that, he heard everything like he was right inside along with them.

  He crawled forward, the dead shrub scratching his arms, his fingers digging into the dirt, so he could get a better view of the back of the house. But he wanted to stay where the local oinkers wouldn’t see him. Because if they saw him, they’d probably nab him.

  Where the fuck were his parents?

  Where the fuck was Jemma?

  Had they left town and not told him?

  Had they left town and left him behind because he was in some damn minivan trying to get his cherry popped and they couldn’t find him?

  Maybe they left town and just didn’t want him anymore.

  Through the open windows, he heard a scramble of feet, more shouts, then boots rushing up the steps.

  “Gun! Gun! Gun!”

  “Put the gun down!”

  “Put it down.”

  Holy fuck!

  Judd couldn’t breathe and was frozen to the ground.

  “PUT THE FUCKING GUN DOWN!”

  “Fuck you!”

  “Let her go, Scott. You don’t want to do that.”

  “Fuck you, pigs!”

  “Let her go.”

  “Put the fucking gun down and let her go.”

  Who? Who was her? His mother?

  “She’s just a baby, you won’t be able to live with yourself if something happens to her.”

  Jemma.

  His fucking pop had Jemma.

  Judd forced himself to keep his mouth shut and keep from shouting out to his pop.

  “Let her go, Scott. We can do this without any of you getting hurt.”

  What was Ox doing?

  “Will let ‘er go when you get the fuck outta my house.”

  “Let her mom take her. We’ll get them both out of here safely.”

  That motherfucker was using Jemma!

  “This isn’t going to end well if you don’t let her go.”

  Judd needed to get upstairs. He needed to get Jemma.

  “You really want us to shoot you in front of your kid? Is that what you want? To show them how much of a hero you are? Scar her for life?”

  “Fuck you! Ain’t takin’ any of us.”

  “We don’t want anyone but you, Scott. Wife and kid can stay here. But we have a warrant for your arrest and we’re not just going away. Let’s do this without getting anyone hurt. Including your little girl.”

  “How come you gotta bring a pig army to deal with one fuckin’ man? You all pussies?”

  Judd didn’t hear the answer or even if there was one, but he knew why. His pop killed people and didn’t think twice about it. He’d kill all those pigs without even blinking.

  But it pissed him the fuck off that he was using Jemma. His baby sister was only five.

  Worse, Judd could hear her crying even from where he was lying on his belly in the dirt.

  He could also hear his mom throwing out pot shots at the pigs. He wondered if Trixie had encouraged Ox to use Jemma as a shield.

  If she did...

  Judd’s jaw shifted and his fingers curled into his palms, his dirty nails digging in painfully. If she allowed her own daughter to be used, Judd was running the fuck away and taking Jem with him.

  “Ma’am, take your daughter from your husband.”

  �
�No, you fuckin’ don’t, Trix. Stay where you’re at. It’s a fuckin’ trick. You know how these fuckin’ pigs are.”

  “Get the fuck out of our house,” Judd heard his mother shriek. “Get out! This is our property! You got no fucking right to be here!”

  “We’re here to serve a warrant, ma’am, and we’re not leaving until we do.” The pig sounded pretty fucking calm for the situation. “So, let’s make this quick and painless and stop scaring your daughter.”

  “You’re the ones fuckin’ scaring her with all those fuckin’ guns drawn.”

  “Scott, this isn’t going to end well.”

  “Yeah, it ain’t, no matter what fuckin’ happens.”

  When a sharp crack was heard, Judd’s heart leapt out of his chest. “NO!” He jumped to his feet and began to sprint toward the back door.

  Someone hooked him around the waist and pulled him to a halt. He began to struggle but was put in a hold that was not only painful, but made it impossible to break free.

  “Lemme go!”

  “Calm down, kid. You can’t go in there.”

  “That’s my sister!”

  “She’ll be fine.”

  “No, she won’t!”

  More shouts and boots stomping on the bare floors were heard. His mother was shrieking and his father bellowing out non-stop curses.

  It sounded like a cluster-fuck.

  But somehow through all that craziness and even through the pounding in his ears, he heard it.

  Jemma screaming. Crying. Calling out Judd’s name.

  Judd lost all his strength and went limp in the pig’s hold. His head dropped and he blinked back the tears that threatened to escape. “Jemma,” he whispered.

  The pig’s radio squawked, and a voice announced Ox was in custody with just minor injuries. The woman and child were unharmed. Hearing that made him breathe a little easier.

  “Lemme go!” Judd yelled, pulling on the arms preventing him from getting to his sister.

  “You need to stay out of the way. If you don’t, I’m taking you into custody.”

  Judd bit back his, “Fuck you,” and nodded his head instead.

  The pig slowly released him and as soon as he did, Judd ran toward the front of the house. The pig ordered him to stop.

  He only slid to a stop when he saw a bunch of the military-like 5-0 surge from the house with his father in cuffs. However, it took a few of them to handle him because Ox wasn’t going without a fight.

  As Judd went to move toward them, an arm hooked him around the neck, cutting off his air. “Don’t get any closer or you’re going to end up just like your old man.”

  Judd forced a “Fuck you” past his crushed windpipe.

  “Got a great future ahead of you, asshole. Just like him. Just give yourself a few years, if you live that long.”

  Fuck you. Fuck you. Fuck you, you scum-suckin’ pig!

  As they tried to drag Ox down the porch steps, his pop did a reverse head-butt and slammed the pig behind him in the nose. Blood gushed from the oinker’s face and there were a bunch of yells, a raised metal baton and then it cracked his pop alongside his already bleeding head.

  Ox dropped to his knees with his head hanging. The only thing keeping him from collapsing all the way to the concrete was the pigs hauling him back up. When they did, he spat a big, bloody hocker in one of their faces.

  Judd shouted as everything became a blur. His father was shoved to the ground, a shin was pinned to his throat, and someone yelled, “Get a hood,” as they shoved his face into the concrete.

  Another one yelled, “Seems like someone earned himself a spit tax.”

  And then several of them began kicking his pop’s ribs and stomping on him with their boots.

  Judd’s “No!” only came out as a squeak because of the arm pressing on his throat.

  A flash caught his attention and he saw his mother, Trixie, rushing out of the house, screaming like a wild woman, her blonde hair flying behind her and her face twisted as she launched herself at one of the 5-0 beating up his father.

  Another pig grabbed her, threw her to the ground and tried to pin her down, but she kept fighting. She was snapping with her teeth, clawing and spitting, too. Local 5-0 quickly jumped in and got her cuffed.

  When the dust settled, his parents were both detained with their wrists and ankles bound, and screened hoods pulled over their heads. 5-0 dragged his father to a car, while a couple of them carried his mother.

  She was still screaming but his pop was quiet as fuck, which was so unlike him.

  Had they killed him?

  One of the uniformed oinkers was yelling at Ox, “Double murder charge, resisting arrest, agg assault on several police officers, enough drugs in plain sight for a possession and intent to distribute charge. Illegal firearms. The list is fucking endless, Scott. You aren’t ever seeing your kids again. Probably better for them, anyway. It’ll give them a better future than an animal like you would ever give them.”

  The pig loosened his grip just enough for Judd to catch his breath. “Lemme go!” he cried. “Lemme go!”

  “Who can come get you and your sister?”

  “No one!”

  “If you don’t have anyone, Child Services will take both of you and most likely split you two up.”

  That couldn’t happen. They’d run away first. He was not letting Jemma go anywhere without him. “No! I’m sixteen and old enough to take care of her ‘til they come home.”

  “No, you’re not. And your parents aren’t coming home any time soon. Both will be going away for a long time.”

  What? “Even my mom?”

  “She’s getting charged with agg assault on a police officer, and there were enough drugs in the house to be charged for that, too. You probably won’t see her for the next five to seven years.”

  Holy shit. That can’t be true! He couldn’t raise Jemma by himself for that long. He didn’t have money. He didn’t even have a damn job. He didn’t have shit. The only thing he had was what his parents had provided. Which wasn’t much but it was something.

  Now he’d have nothing. How was he going to take care of his baby sister?

  “Got family close by we can call?” another pig asked as he approached with a pad and pen.

  Judd blinked. Who the hell would want to take him and Jemma in?

  The only person he could think of was his pop’s sister.

  But before he could tell the pig that, another oinker came out of the house carrying Jemma, whose face was ravaged from crying.

  Holy shit.

  Judd ripped from the pig’s grasp and as he got closer, Jem spotted him and screamed, “Judd!” extending out her arms to him.

  He snatched his sister out of the pig’s arms, and she clung to him, snot running out of her nose and tears an endless stream down her cheeks. “It’s okay, Jem. It’s okay. Promise. Gonna take care of you. Don’t worry.”

  The slam of car doors had him turning and watching the pig mobiles tear down the street, one carrying their mother, the other their father.

  He squeezed Jemma tighter. He had no fucking clue how he would do it, but he’d do everything he could to take care of her.

  He just hoped he didn’t fail.

  Chapter One

  Rubbing his dog’s ears was the next best thing to soothe his shit, right after the rumble of his straight pipes. Having that power between his thighs, the control of where his sled could take him in his hands, and the wind in his long beard was unmatched.

  Jury, his American Bulldog, and his fucking kick-ass Harley were his saving grace. They kept him grounded when shit got a little twisted inside him.

  It didn’t happen often, but it happened.

  And everything that happened on that mountain when they’d dealt with the Shirley Clan a couple of weeks ago was still haunting him. But then it was still fresh. For all of them.

  He had a hard time sleeping after seeing what he saw up there. What those inbred hillbillies had done to Sig’s woma
n, Autumn, had disturbed him to the core and he was having a hard time shaking it.

  But Autumn had survived, was now safe and was sticking around to stay with Sig.

  Hard to believe that fucker could hold onto a woman like Autumn—or Red, as Sig called her—but he was. But then, they were both fucked up, so maybe they were perfect for each other.

  Sig was on the club run without her since she recently popped out a kid and wasn’t in any shape to join them yet.

  But she would.

  Now Trip had Stella riding on his sled as his ol’ lady and Judge didn’t doubt Red would be riding behind Sig. Maybe come spring since this was the last planned run of the year.

  If Judge hadn’t been such a stupid fuck, he might have his own ol’ lady on the back of his sled, too. But he fucked up badly and even though it’d been years, he wasn’t ready to have another woman as his backpack.

  Not one he could trust.

  It was one thing to have a bitch riding him, another to have one riding with him. He preferred the first to the second.

  At least, that was what he fucking told himself.

  Cage, as Road Captain, was leading the formation through the back woods, hills and valleys surrounding Manning Grove, making sure to avoid Copperhead Road, which ran past the lane leading up the mountain to the Shirley compound.

  He couldn’t get all that shit that happened to stop bugging him. He was the club’s enforcer. He wore the patch stating he was Sergeant at Arms. He was the one ultimately responsible for not only keeping everyone’s ass in line but protecting club property.

  He’d failed.

  He’d fucking failed.

  No one had held it against him.

  But he held it against himself.

  He hoped this three-hour, cold-as-fuck ride would clear his fucking mind, but it hadn’t. Now he wanted nothing more than to head home, smoke a big fatty and maybe fall into some easy pussy.

  Like most of his brothers, he had the phone numbers of all the willing sweet butts and female hang-arounds programmed into his cell.

  All he usually had to do was send a text. After that, it wasn’t long before he’d get a knock on his apartment door and when he opened it, willing snatch would be waiting on the other side, usually wearing a wicked smile and carrying a bottle of something strong in her hand.