Blood & Bones: Sig (Blood Fury MC Book 2) Read online

  Jesus fuck. Maybe it was a bad idea to take her back to the farm.

  “Who’s followin’ you?” he asked again, still not letting her go.

  “Them.”

  Goddamn it! “Who?”

  “Them up there.”

  Sig went solid and he slid his eyes up the mountain in the direction where she had come from.

  Oh fuck.

  Oh fuck, fuck, fuck.

  They needed to move. Needed to go. Right now.

  “We gotta go,” he encouraged her, talking fast. “I have wheels. Can get you away from ‘em faster. But you can’t run if I let you go. Gotta fuckin’ promise me.”

  She said nothing. Which to Sig meant she wasn’t promising shit.

  Which meant as soon as he let her go, she was going to run. And if she did, he was letting her. If she didn’t want his help, then fuck her.

  But he was not getting his ass shot or strung up. There were most likely booby traps in the woods. How she didn’t get caught up in one, he had no fucking clue. He was surprised she didn’t get a leg snapped off in a bear trap.

  He had no idea what to call her but he needed to make some sort of connection. He picked the first thing he could think of. “Red, gonna give you my shirt, ‘kay? And when we get to my bike, I got a flannel shirt in my bag. You can cover up with that. Then I’m gettin’ you the fuck outta here. I promise. Now, you gotta promise me you won’t fuckin’ run.”

  She blinked, her hazel eyes unfocused, her face paler now than before. Her adrenaline spike was crashing. He wasn’t even sure she’d be able to cling to him on the back of his sled. But they had no other way to jet, so maybe he’d tuck her in front of him. She was slender enough he should be able to steer his sled around her. As long as the pigs didn’t see him.

  If they were in the area, they were both fucked. Especially with how both of them looked.

  Fuck. He should drop her off at the pig pen anyway. Let them deal with her crazy ass.

  “Lettin’ you go now.” He slowly released his arms and hissed at the pain shooting along his own ribs. He pushed through it to slide his cut off and remove the T-shirt he wore over a long-sleeved thermal.

  Once he was done, he was surprised to see her still standing there. But she was shivering like a newborn fawn with her arms crossed over her protruding stomach, not even trying to hide the rest of her nakedness from him.

  At this point, she probably didn’t fucking care. She was probably just glad to be alive and upright.

  Sig worried about that upright part. She could collapse at any time.

  He tugged his shirt over her head, pulling her mess of hair free. The shirt only fell to her hips, leaving her lower half uncovered.

  Shit.

  He’d wrap his flannel shirt around her waist to cover her better. It was better than nothing.

  “Let’s go,” he said gently, after putting his cut back on. “Gonna help you.” He held out his hand. She stared at it for a long moment. “Red, it’s me,” he jerked his chin up the mountain, “or them.”

  She didn’t move.

  He heard a clock ticking loudly in his brain. Or maybe that was his thumping heart. Either way, they needed to move.

  “Red,” he said more firmly, her panic starting to seep into his own skin. “Me... Or them.”

  More tears slid down her face as she continued to stare at his outstretched hand, which was now almost as dirty as hers.

  He figured she needed to decide on the lesser of two evils. One known. One unknown.

  Her mouth opened and a thick, raw, “You,” escaped and she grabbed his hand.

  Thank fuck.

  He gave her a sharp nod and helped her out of the woods.

  Maybe she wasn’t the crazy one in all of this.

  Maybe it was him.

  Chapter Three

  He steered his sled carefully down the rutted, rough lane toward The Barn. His teeth clenched the whole time as not only everything on his body screamed, but so did his mind.

  He needed to get her somewhere where she wasn’t exposed. Where she was safe.

  He rode past the farmhouse, hoping not to run into Trip. He didn’t have time to deal with his brother’s bullshit right now.

  The woman who was straddling the seat in front of him, leaning back against him and clinging onto his bare outstretched arms with her sharp, broken nails, was who he needed to focus on.

  Hopefully, Trip was out on a repo job. And he hoped to fuck Stella was home.

  If not, he’d be on his own dealing with Red.

  He maneuvered his sled around the MC’s clubhouse to the back of the bunkhouse, to the exterior stairs that took him to his apartment.

  He parked it as close as he could to the bottom of the metal steps, shut his engine off and heeled his kickstand down.

  Then he tried to breathe.

  And still his spinning thoughts.

  The woman’s head which had been flopping forward for most of the ride, like she had fallen asleep, lifted just slightly. “Where...”

  “Somewhere safe. None of ‘em will know you’re here. And if they find out, they won’t be able to get to you. You’ll be protected here.”

  Fuck, he hoped that was true.

  Trip was going to have a problem with this.

  Maybe even Judge.

  But he needed more eyes on the lookout than just his own two.

  At least until all of this was figured out.

  At least until he had some better answers.

  At least until he figured out where she needed to go. Who he could hand her off to, besides back to those hillbilly, in-bred, redneck motherfuckers on that mountain.

  The Shirley Clan.

  An extended family who declared themselves and their mountain one of those bullshit sovereign nations. They made up their own laws and didn’t follow the same ones the rest of Americans had to.

  Or at least, that was what they wanted. Law enforcement and federal agents didn’t seem to agree. Unfortunately, Sig wanted nothing to do with law enforcement or the feds himself. So, bringing Red back to the farm might not be the smartest fucking idea.

  But those marks on her body and those torn, bloody nails made him think she’d done her fucking best to escape some sort of confinement.

  And he knew all about being confined. He knew all about having your damn freedom yanked from you. He knew all about being locked up against your fucking will.

  And that shit twisted his gut.

  Only difference was, Sig knew how and why he ended up in prison each time. He had no clue how Red ended up on that fucking mountain. Or why.

  Or if she had gone voluntarily, why she was now trying to escape.

  Especially if what he suspected was the reasoning behind why her stomach was the way it was.

  He’d done pregnant women before, so he knew what a knocked up one looked like, but not one of them had been as thin as Red. How a baby could be growing in her belly like that, he had no fucking clue.

  But again, it could be because she hadn’t eaten in a very long time and her gut was just distended.

  Maybe that was it.

  Because if she was carrying a Shirley spawn, then shit just got even more fucked for them both.

  He put one hand on her shoulder to make sure she didn’t topple off his sled and he dismounted, then helped her to her feet. As she stood, she wobbled slightly.

  Fuck.

  He needed to get her upstairs fast before anyone saw them, before anyone fucking snitched to Trip.

  He gritted his teeth, squatted with a searing curse due to the pain that shot through his body, and hooked her under the knees and curled an arm behind her back.

  She hardly weighed a thing for being about five-foot-five. Even for possibly being knocked up.

  But at the moment, his pain overrode his anger. His breath hissed and he ground his molars as he slowly and carefully made his way up the steps, gripping her securely to his chest.

  “I can... walk.”

 
The fuck she could. But he couldn’t say a fucking word. Not yet. Not through the excruciating agony that wanted to take him to his knees.

  When he got to the top landing, he hissed out another sharp breath and dropped her to her feet. He dug for his keys deep within his front pocket, plugged one into the lock and shoved the door open.

  “Inside,” he managed to get out.

  She hesitated.

  He got why.

  She was wondering if she had escaped one nightmare to walk into another.

  “Ain’t gonna hurt you.” When she didn’t move, he added, “Swear it.”

  “’Ain’t gonna hurt you... Just cooperate an’ give us what we want. Don’t fight an’ you won’t get hurt,’” she said on a broken whisper.

  What the fuck? Another chill shot down Sig’s spine. She was quoting someone.

  “What’d they want?” he whispered.

  She didn’t answer, but, thank fuck, she stepped over the threshold into the dark interior of his apartment. She took a few more steps, then hesitated. He hurried in behind her, hit the lights and closed the door.

  She suddenly collapsed to the floor, pulled her knees to her chest and curled into a ball like one of those wooly caterpillars when he poked at them as a kid.

  “Fuck,” he said under his breath as he heard her soft sobbing.

  He hoped to fuck it was from relief of getting out of whatever fucked up situation she’d been in.

  “Are you a Shirley?” Fuck, he should’ve asked that in the beginning, back in the woods. Because you did not take Shirley property from them. Not a car, not a woman, and definitely not one who could be carrying a Shirley spawn.

  They protected their property like an MC protected theirs.

  With everything they had.

  She didn’t answer him. She probably needed food and definitely a bath, most likely medical attention. But if she was a Shirley and he took her somewhere, nothing would stop them coming off that mountain to claim one of their own.

  Nothing.

  And he wasn’t letting that happen. Not until he knew the whole story.

  Most likely not even then.

  It was one thing when a woman wanted welts and bruises because she asked for it, craved it, got off on it, it was another when it was forced on her against her will.

  He had a feeling Red was not into being beaten for sexual pleasure.

  It was those dirty, bloody, broken fingernails that gave it away. This woman had fought to escape the hell she’d been in. She had not volunteered to be tied up and beaten.

  His jaw shifted and his fingers curled into fists.

  He’d done a lot of stupid shit in his life. He’d done a lot of shit he’d gone to jail for. Abusing a woman was not fucking one.

  He’d never done anything a woman didn’t ask for. He enjoyed pussy. He didn’t destroy it. He appreciated it when a woman knew what the fuck she wanted and wasn’t afraid to ask for it.

  He had no doubt Red hadn’t asked for anything she’d been dished out.

  But right now, he was over his head. He needed help with her. From someone maybe Red could trust.

  Stella.

  She was the only female that lived on the farm. None of the sweet butts or female hang-arounds were allowed to shack up in any of the rooms in the bunkhouse. Trip didn’t want it turning into a whorehouse.

  So, Stella was it.

  Problem was, Stella didn’t trust Sig. But if he could convince her to help with Red...

  He hoped to fuck she was home.

  “Gotta go up to the main house for a quick minute. You need to stay here. Be back as soon as I can.” Trip’s ol’ lady could ignore a text, but she couldn’t ignore Sig if he stood eye to eye with her.

  Since Red was still curled into a ball, he wasn’t sure if she heard him. He just had to make sure she didn’t bolt when he ran up to the house. He dug his keys back out, thankful that the deadbolt was one that needed a key to lock or unlock it from the inside. When he stepped back outside, he locked Red in.

  He moved as fast as he could in the distance between The Barn and the house, which was about two football fields, and cursed in relief when he made it to the back door without passing out in pain.

  All the shit that happened in the woods, the ride on his sled and carrying Red upstairs had aggravated his cracked, and possibly broken, ribs and made every injury on his body throb.

  He pounded on the back door and waited.

  A few seconds later, Trip’s ol’ lady, wearing her long black hair with blue stripes loose around her shoulders and her normal rocker-style clothes, opened the door, her blue eyes narrowed on Sig.

  Before she could say anything, he said, “Need your help, Stel.”

  If she wasn’t suspicious of him showing up at the back door, she was now. “For what?” As she took him in, her lips took a deep downward turn. “Fuck. You look like hell.”

  “Yeah.”

  Her eyebrows pinned together. “Yeah? What happened? Where have you been?”

  Christ. He wasn’t getting into that right now. Especially with her. “Around.”

  Her face twisted with annoyance at his bullshit answer. “You look like you had a fight with a honey badger.”

  “I did.”

  “And he won.”

  “Yeah, Stel. Seriously. Need your help.”

  “For what?”

  “Just need to show you.”

  She pressed a hand to her forehead, her frown deepening. “Sig...”

  “Stella, goddamn it. Wouldn’t ask if...” He wasn’t going to fucking beg. His pulse began to hammer and his blood simmer. “You know what? Fuck it. Fuck you.”

  He turned and carefully made his way off the porch and into the uneven grass as he headed back to the bunkhouse.

  Fuck her.

  Fuck her.

  Fuck her.

  A few seconds later, the sound of flip-flops chasing him down made him slow.

  “This causes issues with Trip, I’m giving you a black eye on the other side.”

  “Then you might as well swing now.” Sig didn’t hide his grin, though it quickly turned into a grimace.

  “Oh fuck,” she groaned.

  “Yeah, oh fuck don’t even cover it.”

  “What’d you do?” she asked, walking by his side. “Is whatever it is why you’re all beat up?”

  “Noooo,” he dragged out. “That’s a whole other fuckin’ issue.”

  “Oh fuck. Trip’s not going to be happy with that issue, either?”

  “Thinkin’ that’s a big fuckin’ no,” Sig admitted.

  “Jesus, Sig,” she whispered. “He’s got enough shit on his plate. He doesn’t need you dragging more shit home.”

  “Didn’t go lookin’ for this shit. It found me.”

  “You could have left it where it found you.”

  Fuck no, he couldn’t. Otherwise, he would’ve.

  They got to the rear of the bunkhouse and Stella stopped, staring up the steps to the second level. “It’s in your apartment.”

  Sig’s jaw got tight. “Yeah, Stella, it’s in my apartment.” He turned on her. “You seriously fuckin’ don’t trust me that much?” He began up the stairs with another silent, “Fuck you.”

  As annoyed as he was with her distrust, he was still relieved when he heard her following on his heels.

  “You haven’t shown me anything yet to make me think I can trust you, Sig...”

  “Whatever,” he muttered under his breath. He swallowed the “bitch” on the end of it. Now was not the time to have it out with the Prez’s ol’ lady. Louder, he said, “Don’t do it for me, then,” as he unlocked the door.

  “Then for who?”

  He pushed it open and jerked his chin toward the interior. “Do it for her.”

  “What the fuck?” Stella whispered behind him. She pushed past him, knocking him aside and making him wince. She rushed up to the woman who was still curled in a ball on the floor right where he’d left her. Stella fell to her knees
and glanced up at Sig. “You do this?”

  Goddamn it. “Fuck no.”

  “Then who? Why is she just wearing a tee and flannel shirt? Why is she filthy? Why is she injured like that?”

  “Stella,” he began, trying hard to hold onto any patience he had left. “Had those fuckin’ answers, I’d give ‘em to you.”

  Stella brushed the knotted, caked hair away from Red’s face. “Where did you find her?”

  “Runnin’ in the woods. Naked.”

  Stella’s mouth dropped open as she stared at Sig. “What?”

  “Runnin’ down the mountain... Off Copperhead Road.”

  She blinked a couple times, then her blue eyes went wide. “The Shirleys?” she whispered.

  When Stella said that name, Red jerked on the floor.

  Sig just lifted his eyebrows in a silent answer to Stella.

  “Oh fuck,” Trip’s woman muttered. Then when the significance hit her, she whispered, “Ooooh fuck,” even louder. “We need to get the cops involved. I can call Max.”

  “No!” Sig shouted quickly, not wanting her to call the fucking local Chief of Pigs. “No. Don’t know what the fuck’s goin’ on yet. If she’s... If she belongs to... them, then we need to keep her location on the DL. Pigs find out... They’ll go up there, tryin’ to arrest someone... Those motherfuckers might figure out where she is. Even if they arrest the one that... Even if they do, there’s a shitload more of ‘em. Let’s just do what we can first. Then figure it all out.”

  “Sig...”

  “Goddamn it, Stel. She needs to get cleaned up an’ dressed. I’d do it but...”

  “But you shouldn’t touch her,” Stella finished, her eyes troubled. “Yeah... Okay... Let’s get her to the house and I’ll run her a bath and do what I can to help. But maybe she needs to go to the hospital.” Stella raised her eyebrows at Sig. “For... you know... one of those kits...”

  “What kit?” A pregnancy kit? He was thinking it was too late for that.

  “For evidence.” Stella tilted her head in a silent signal.

  Sig picked up what she was putting down. But, Jesus fuck, it was way too late for that, too. Stella just hadn’t seen the obvious evidence yet. Not with the way Red was curled around her own belly. “Know what fuckin’ happened.”