Blood & Bones: Trip (Blood Fury MC Book 1)

by Jeanne St. James

  “I can’t lose any more, Trip. As fucked up as he was, I lost my husband. Twice. I lost my father. Even though she’s still alive, I lost my mother.” She sucked in a shaky breath. “I lost my son. My blood. The boy I carried for nine months inside me. The boy I loved the second I saw those two little red lines on the test stick. The boy I protected and loved for eight years.” She lifted her head and a tear rolled unchecked down her cheek. But she met his eyes and held fast this time. “I lost him. I can’t bear to lose any more... Including you.”

  Including you.

  Holy fuck, those two words...

  They stood only six feet apart, but it seemed like a mile. With a couple long strides, he closed the gap and didn’t stop until his body hit hers and he wrapped his arms around her, holding her tight, wanting to absorb her, to absorb her pain. To protect her from the past. Protect her from the future.

  He realized he couldn’t do that for her. She had to do that on her own. But he’d damn well help as much as he could.

  “I can’t give you everything I have left to only lose you. Whether it’s by burying you or watching you end up with another woman when you finally realize I can’t give you everything you want or need.”

  His throat was tight when he said into her hair, “Can’t lose you, either, baby. That’s why I’m here. Will give you everything I have, everything I am, just to make you happy. But you have to want it, too. Have to reach for it, not push it away. If you ain’t ready, then you ain’t ready. Just tell me to fuck off, Stella.” Goddamn it. “Just say it. I’ll walk out that fuckin’ door behind me because I’m movin’ my life forward, not gonna get stuck in place, not gonna go backward. Movin’ forward and want you to be there with me. You can’t, you can’t.” He swallowed hard, trying to rid the lump stuck in his throat. “Tell me to fuck off.”

  Every second that ticked by seemed like an eternity. Every second she said nothing killed him a little more.

  “Tell me to fuck off, Stel,” he whispered.

  For fuck’s sake, just do it and let me go.

  Her arms snaked under his cut and wrapped tightly around his waist. “I can’t do it,” came smothered from his shirt.

  He closed his eyes and went solid. She was letting him go.

  “I can’t tell you to fuck off.”

  Oh Christ. Thank fuck.

  She lifted her face from his shirt and said again, louder this time, “I can’t tell you to fuck off.”

  He combed his fingers through her hair, moving it out of her face, so he could see her clearly. “Why, baby?”

  Her hands twisted tightly in his T-shirt at the small of his back. “Because I don’t want you to walk out that door. I can’t let you go.”

  His voice caught as he asked again, “Why, baby?”

  Her light blue eyes hit his and held. “Because somehow I fell in love with you. No...” She shook her head.

  Trip’s heart pounded in his chest. But as hard as it was, he waited.

  “No. I’ve always been in love with you. Even when I didn’t understand it. Even after you pushed me away. Back then, I knew you were mine. That you’d always be mine. You couldn’t see it. And after that day... that day... I thought I was wrong. I’d made a mistake. I was just a stupid young girl with a foolish dream.”

  “No, baby, it was my mistake. And now I see what you saw back then. That you belonged to me. That you’d always be mine. You’re right, I didn’t see it then. Took me twenty fuckin’ years to find you again, to prove you were right and I was wrong. And here we are. If you’re not gonna tell me to fuck off, what are you tellin’ me? ‘Cause it’s all or nothin’, Stella. I want it all. Hopin’ you want it all, too.”

  “I don’t know if I can give you it all. But I can try.”

  Fuck, that sounded good. “Perseverance, baby. That’s all I can ask for.”

  “Perseverance. I’ll promise to give you that.”

  He closed his eyes and pulled her against him even tighter. “We can build from there.”

  Suddenly he felt whole. Not only had he made his father’s cut his by making Buck’s club his, but his woman was tucked against him, that very cut wrapped around her just like his arms. Those colors would represent and protect them. Those colors would be their future. Their kids’ future.

  Even so, this wasn’t over. They couldn’t live easy yet. They had a lot of hard work in front of them. All of them did.

  But in the end, that hard work would pay off.

  In the end, they’d have something so solid no one could rip it apart. Not from the inside, not from the outside.

  Those thoughts weren’t just about the club, they were also about him and Stella.

  “We’ll take it day by day, baby. But every night need you to lay your head next to mine, every mornin’ need you to wake up by my side. You walk beside me and support me and I swear to fuck I’ll do the same for you. But need one more thing...”

  She tipped her face up to him. “What’s that? To wear your cut? To let you claim me?”

  “More important than any of that.”

  When her brow furrowed, he realized she thought he was going to bring up his desire to have sons again. That wasn’t what this was about. He smoothed a thumb over it, then he ripped himself open. “Need you to love me as much as I love you. Might not tell you on a regular basis, but you’ll know it if you let yourself feel it. Know I’m askin’ a lot from you—”

  One of her hands slipped from under his cut to wrap around the back of his head as she tugged his face closer to hers. “You aren’t asking for anything more than what I’d ask from you. I do love you, Trip, that’s why I worried—”

  “No worries,” he said before sliding his lips over hers, stopping her words. “Takin’ it day by day.”

  “Okay,” she whispered against his lips. “Day by day. Some days will be worse than others.”

  “Yeah. And I’ll be there for those, too. Just don’t shut me out.”

  “Okay.”

  “Okay,” he echoed, relieved, and smiled against her lips. “Love you, baby.”

  “Love you, too, Trip.”

  Best words he’d ever heard in his fucking life.

  Best feeling he ever had, right after feeling the sun on his face the second he stepped out of prison.

  Today, the sun was shining on his face and he would do his best to keep it there.

  Epilogue

  Sun on his face

  Stella headed his way, carrying two beers, her narrow hips swinging and a relaxed expression on her face.

  They were sort of celebrating.

  Not that his brothers needed a reason to party.

  They’d just had their second club run this afternoon, someone had gotten a pig from one of the local Amish farms, and now there wasn’t much left of it in the smoker that sat right outside the newly built pavilion.

  The pig had literally been torn to shreds. One of the picnic tables that sat under the metal roof of that pavilion was overflowing with a whole bunch of food, plasticware, and the rest of the shit needed to eat, drink and fucking be merry.

  Not every day was a good fucking day, but this one was and he’d take every good day they could get.

  The early July weather cooperated. The club was growing. Even if slowly.

  And, best of all, today Stella donned her “Property of Trip” cut for the first time. He’d given it to her a couple weeks ago after the last executive meeting where there had been no opposition to the vote on making her his ol’ lady. She said she’d only wear it for the runs and he was fine with that.

  But as she approached, she still wore it, which made him smile.

  Even if the reason she kept it on was most likely to make it clear to the other women around the courtyard Trip belonged to her.

  Because that was how it was. He belonged to her. Every fucking cell in his body was Stella’s.

  He was leaning against one of the pavilion’s posts, smoking a hand-rolled and surveying the whole courtyard. Right now, it
just included the pavilion with mismatched old and new picnic tables and chairs, the smoker, and a half dozen fifty-five-gallon drums scattered around the area, all burning high, creating pockets of light amongst the dark.

  Maybe one day they’ll build a stage and dig a large pit for a bonfire just like the Dirty Angels had at theirs.

  Baby steps. He needed to remind himself of that because there were days that went to total shit for him.

  Complete and total shit.

  There was so much pressure on his shoulders that sometimes it got overwhelming and swallowed him up before spitting him out. Sometimes it was Stella who had to pick him back up, brush him off and encourage him to continue with a hard kick to the ass.

  One of those times, she’d insisted, “You’ve helped me. Let me help you.”

  Another time she said, “If you need to lean on me, I’m here.”

  “You don’t know how much hearin’ that means to me, baby,” he told her. Because it was so damn true.

  She saw his vision. She was helping make it come to being.

  They all were. Rook, Judge, Ozzy, Dutch, Cage, Deacon, Sparky, Mouse, and Dodge. And now the newest prospect, Shady.

  Word was spreading about the Fury’s resurrection and just last week, the man showed up on his doorstep wanting to be part of something that made them much greater as a whole than as an individual.

  Judge had given Shady his nickname because the man didn’t say much and was a bit withdrawn. Most of the time, he only spoke when spoken to.

  Trip didn’t have a problem with it, but it spooked Judge. Especially since they didn’t know his whole story. Not yet anyway. But then they all had their secrets. As long as it didn’t fuck with the club or shake the brotherhood, Shady was welcome to keep them.

  But the man already was proving to be a hard worker and immediately set out in helping Ozzy renovate The Grove Inn. Again, like Crazy Pete’s, another vision that was slow to come to fruition—because it took scratch to make scratch—but would be worth it in the end.

  While everybody tonight was chasing the pussy that had shown up—all except for Dutch, though the old man was certainly not keeping his eyes or thoughts to himself—Shady was just observing. If any of the women approached him—and he had certainly grabbed their attention—he’d simply give them a chin lift but didn’t encourage contact.

  For a moment it made Trip wonder if Shady wasn’t into women and if that might cause a problem with the rest of the brothers. But if the prospect proved himself, Trip didn’t give a fuck who the man liked to stick his dick into. That was between Shady, his dick and whoever was taking it.

  But Trip wasn’t sure that was it—

  “Hey,” Stella whispered, interrupting his thoughts and holding out his beer.

  “Hey, baby,” he murmured, pinching the end of his partially smoked hand-rolled and tucking it away. She didn’t like him smoking around her, so he tried to avoid it.

  He accepted the beer and took a long pull before hooking her around the waist and pulling her against him, her back to his chest, her legs sandwiched between his. “I tell you you look fuckin’ hot in that cut?”

  She grinned up at him. “Heard it a few times.”

  “I tell you you’ll be wearin’ that cut and only that fuckin’ cut when I’m makin’ you come with my name on your lips later?”

  “I might have heard that, too.”

  “Might need to fuck you doggy-style so I can read that cut while you take my dick.”

  “Sounds super romantic, Trip.”

  He grinned, tipping the bottle to his lips. “Figured you’d think so.” He took another long pull of beer.

  Stella drank from her own beer, then sighed and a moment later lifted her bottle, arcing it in front of her, indicating the courtyard and its occupants. “You’ve built all this.”

  Yeah, shit was coming together. “Only the beginnin’, baby.”

  “It’s a good, solid start.” She pulled away to face him. He pushed away from the post and once again smiled as she slipped her arms under his cut and around his waist. She planted her chin on his chest. “Putting Dodge in charge of the bar was a good move.”

  His brows raised as he tipped his beer to his lips once more. “So, you’re finally admittin’ it?”

  “He’s doing well.”

  “The bar’s doin’ better because of both of you,” he corrected her.

  “Like you, he had some good ideas.”

  “You had ‘em, too.”

  “But I didn’t have the money to implement them.”

  He simply answered, “Now you do,” because this shit had been talked to death and while they weren’t buried in cash, they weren’t hurting, either. The more the businesses grew, the more the club grew, the bigger the bank accounts would grow.

  If he had his way, not one of them would be hurting for money. Not just him and Stella. But all of them.

  “Because of you.”

  “’Cause of us,” he corrected her. “Partners, remember?”

  He frowned because her eyes were no longer on him, but instead focused elsewhere. The hairs on the back of his neck prickled as she went stiff in his arms. Was she winding up for a fight?

  “Partners in life, Stel,” he repeated more firmly, expecting a response.

  “Trip,” she said under her breath, still staring past him.

  His heart skipped a beat when he heard a deep, “Heard it once somewhere... If you build it, they will come,” from over his shoulder.

  Trip spun toward the voice, shoving Stella behind him, his hand automatically finding the butt of his gun at the small of his back. Before he had a chance to free it from his cut, the man standing before him in the shadows raised both palms up in surrender.

  “Jesus. Didn’t mean to fuckin’ startle you.”

  He tucked the gun back in place. “Didn’t,” Trip lied. “Just can’t be too careful.”

  “Imagine so,” the man murmured, eyeing up Stella as she moved to Trip’s side.

  She fisted the back of his cut and tilted her head, giving the new arrival the same amount of eyeball he was giving her. “Sig,” slipped past her lips.

  It took Sig a few moments and Trip let him work it out on his own. “Goddamn,” Sig murmured. “All grown up, Stella.”

  “So are you,” she answered, but Trip could hear it in her voice: the question asking if the man actually acted as mature as he looked.

  His mile-long rap sheet said otherwise.

  But unless he was on the run and looking for a place to lie low, Trip had hope his half-brother was keeping his shit clean.

  And by him showing up at the farm, Trip hoped Sig planned to keep his ass out of cuffs and off the pigs’ radar.

  “Just ridin’ through?” Trip asked, dropping an arm around Stella’s shoulders, making it clear to Sig that it was time for him to shift his eyes elsewhere.

  Sig took in the arm that staked Trip’s claim and finally turned his attention back to him. “Thinkin’ I’d settle for a while.”

  A while. “Not lookin’ for drifters. This ain’t a motel,” Trip said. “Lookin’ for men wantin’ to put down some roots.”

  Sig studied him for a long moment, his mouth tight, then he nodded. “I hear ya. Only time I’ve stuck in one place was when I was forced to.” His whole adult life, Sig had spent more time in jail than out of it.

  “Kept an apartment open for you, even though I ate a lotta shit about doin’ so.”

  “From who?”

  “Anyone who knows you or knows of you, Sig.”

  Sig cocked an eyebrow. “You figured I’d show.”

  No, brother, but I hoped you would. “Eventually. Long as your ass didn’t land back behind bars,” Trip said honestly. “Ain’t gonna be easy, brother. This ain’t some place you eat grub all day, eat pussy all night, and not pull your fuckin’ weight. Ain’t a resort.”

  Sig’s chest rose and fell as his gaze slid from Trip to circle the courtyard. His eyes caught on something in the dis
tance and stuck there while he asked, “Still need a fuckin’ VP?”

  He did, especially since Dutch bitched about being temporary VP at every meeting. Hell, every time he talked to the old man. But Trip now had second thoughts about handing over that spot to Sig. It was a powerful position to hand over to a possible loose cannon.

  But he also wanted to mend fences with the man, rebuild what they used to have. And to do that, he’d need to trust Sig.

  To a point, anyway. At least until Trip had more confidence that Sig wasn’t going to self-combust, end up on some kind of crazy spree and drag the rest of them into it, destroying what Trip had been busting his ass so hard to build.

  Again with a tight feeling in his gut, he said, “Yeah, brother, I do. But like I said, ain’t gonna be an easy ride.”

  Sig’s gaze finally hit his again and stuck. “Nothin’ worth havin’ is easy, brother.”

  No shit. Trip knew that only too well. But he wondered what was behind Sig’s dark eyes when he said that. They’d been apart way too long and he could no longer read the man who turned out to be his real brother.

  Half-brother. Same shit to him. Though, he wasn’t sure if it meant the same to Sig.

  With a chin lift, Trip extended his hand, hoping he wasn’t making a mistake. If down the road, Sig bit the hand that was offered, Trip would kill his brother himself.

  Sig slapped his palm into his and they bumped shoulders. “Welcome home,” Trip murmured as he did so. “Welcome home,” he repeated again, as he patted his brother on the back and glanced over Sig’s shoulder at his woman.

  He may not be able to read Sig any longer, but he could now read Stella like a fucking crystal ball and she looked as uncertain as Trip felt.

  Time would tell whether this move would be one of Trip’s fuck ups.

  He hoped like hell it wasn’t.

  If it turned out to be, he’d rise up from those ashes again and start the fuck over.

  Because stubborn fuck that he was, he refused to let the Blood Fury remain buried in those ashes.

  And the Fury was in his blood and always would be.