Blood & Bones: Cage (Blood Fury MC Book 5)

by Jeanne St. James

  “I remember you, Chris.”

  Chapter Five

  Jemma pushed her sunglasses up to the top of her head, pulling her hair back from her face.

  She’d only been five when the original club imploded. Chris had been eight. But, yes, she remembered him. The older Fury kids wouldn’t allow Chris or her to hang out with them. They were always pushed away and told to get lost. Even called babies.

  To add insult to injury, Chris had wanted nothing to do with her.

  But now? He needed her.

  How shit had changed...

  “You gonna hold a grudge about somethin’ that was nothin’?”

  Jemma pursed her lips and stared at the beaten man before her. He sat on top of the table with his blood-spattered boots planted apart on the bench. “Nope. My brother just beat the living shit out of you. I’m thinking that’s enough karma right there.”

  “He didn’t do it for you.”

  “No, he didn’t.” She continued to study him. The boy had grown up to look like a man, but the beating proved he might not act like one. He had done something stupid and paid the price. “I figured you would have turned out a little smarter. Guess I was wrong.”

  “Yeah,” he said in a low, rough voice. “You were wrong. Today proved it.”

  Her eyebrows lifted slightly. “It’s rare to hear a man admit he did something stupid.”

  “Yeah? Well, got proof of bein’ stupid. Someone I can’t hide. She cries, shits and eats a lot. Gonna be hard to forget that mistake.”

  Mistake.

  The mistake had been made when he broke club rules, fucked one of the Amish and got her pregnant. She figured that was what he was calling a mistake, not the baby which resulted from his bad decision. Because if he was...

  She decided to test her theory. “Why don’t you just give her up for adoption? You’re not obligated to raise her. She could have a better life elsewhere.” In fact, Jemma was sure the baby would have a better life somewhere else.

  “Who says she’d end up with a better life?”

  Maybe he wasn’t as dumb as she first thought. “Good point.”

  “And anyway, she’s blood.”

  Jemma barked out a laugh. “And since when has that meant anything?”

  “Means somethin’ to me.”

  His face might be busted up, but she could see the intensity in his eyes. Under the shade of the pavilion, she couldn’t tell exactly the color they were. If she remembered correctly, blue.

  Even so, she remembered him. And his circumstances. Just like she was sure he remembered hers.

  That week so long ago had been the worst for them all. No one—not one of them—survived without scars, visible or not.

  “Because your mom left you?” she asked.

  He didn’t answer. He didn’t need to. His silence was answer enough.

  She sighed. “Let me take a closer look at you.”

  “Don’t gotta.”

  “You’re right,” she murmured, “I don’t.” She stepped closer to the table. “Take your shirt off.”

  “Want my pants off, too?”

  Typical cocky asshole. Oh, yes, please, drop your pants, stud. There’s nothing I’d like to see more than your fucking tiny dick. Thank you for being so generous. *giggle giggle*

  “No. I want to check your ribs. I don’t give a shit if your legs are bruised up. I know nothing’s broken below the waist because you walked over here.”

  “Barely.”

  “Still, you don’t have anything major broken because you wouldn’t be sitting here calmly. Trust me.”

  He only hesitated a second before he tried to pull up his shirt. With a loud groan and a curse.

  With another sigh, she stepped between his bent knees and did it for him, slowly working the bloodied tee up his torso and over his head, careful not to catch his busted lip or nose.

  “Idiot. Why would you let anyone do this to you?” She dropped his shirt onto the table and picked up one hand, inspecting it. She picked up the other and did the same. Not one bruised or split knuckle to be found. Not one. “And not even hit back.”

  “You wouldn’t understand.”

  “No? Then mansplain it to me. I’m sure you’re used to doing that.”

  “Pretty fuckin’ sure your brother explained the whole fuckin’ situation.”

  She knew how the baby came to be, but she hadn’t been expecting to walk into the backlash from that situation today.

  “I want to hear it from you.”

  “Do stupid shit, win stupid prizes. ‘Nough said.”

  “That about covers it.” She sighed and decided to assess him from the top and move downward.

  She tipped his face up and gently turned it left and right, checking each bruise. He winced and cursed on a hiss when she poked and prodded his injuries. Nothing was broken in his face besides his nose and his lip. Both would heal on their own.

  “Your nose has a simple break. Take pain killers and put ice on it for twenty minutes every hour or so to reduce the swelling. You’re lucky, it shouldn’t heal crooked and mess up your pretty face.” Or possibly formerly pretty face. She really had no idea what his face looked like now that he was older and it was a bit fucked up.

  “Not worried about my face.”

  “Maybe you should be.”

  He almost snorted at that, but muttered a “fuck” at the pain, instead.

  “Looks like the bleeding has already stopped. If it starts up again and won’t stop, go to the ER.”

  “Yes, Nurse Ratched.”

  She ignored his remark and leaned in closer to stare into his eyes. Her heart skipped a beat and her breath stilled as his shuddered from between parted, partially swollen lips.

  “What’re you doin’?” he whispered.

  “Checking your pupils.” She straightened. Yep, just as she remembered. His eyes were blue. One just had a nice blood spot in it now. “They look normal. Are you dizzy? Have a headache?”

  “Head’s poundin’.”

  “Do you feel like you need to vomit?”

  His Adam’s apple rolled up and down in slow motion. “Every fuckin’ day this week, but not ‘cause of the beatin’.”

  Right, having a baby you knew nothing about just show up one day at your door probably felt like a kick in the gut.

  “Can you see clearly? Or is your vision blurry?”

  “Can see you just fine, Jem.”

  Jem.

  She ignored the goosebumps that swept along her skin at his low grumble. A man’s voice had never caused a physical reaction like this. Why was it happening now? With him?

  She held her middle finger up in front of his face. “How many fingers am I holding up?”

  “I deserve that?”

  She arched an eyebrow. “I don’t know, do you?”

  “Probably.”

  She grinned. “Sit still.”

  “Ain’t goin’ nowhere.”

  She leaned in again and ran both thumbs over his collarbones from the center of his neck to the outer points, checking for pain or anything out of place.

  “Been gone a long time.”

  Her fingers stilled, as did her heart. Did she imagine those whispered words? “What?”

  “Didn’t say nothin’.”

  She must be hearing things. She continued with her exam. “Any sharp pain where I just pressed?”

  “No,” he breathed.

  “Anything hurt besides your ribs?”

  “Does the answer ‘everything’ fuckin’ count?”

  She ran her fingers lightly down his left rib cage, noticing when he reacted to a couple tender spots. Did it again down his right side. When she got to the area already turning an ugly shade of purple, he hissed when she prodded him there.

  After a few more gentle pushes, she straightened again. “Yep. Cracked. Bruised. But not broken, luckily. They’ll heal, like your nose. So will your split lip. You’ll have a couple shiners from your broken nose and plenty of bruises.” She too
k another step back and stared at his chest. This time for herself and not for his benefit. He had tattoos down both arms. A few tats on his chest. And she assumed his back bore the Fury’s colors.

  “So, where is the reason for which you willingly got your ass kicked?”

  “If you’re talkin’ Dyna’s mother, not sure.”

  “Dyna?”

  “My daughter.”

  She didn’t think the baby had a name yet. Her brother must have been wrong. “Ah. No. I was asking about the baby. The reason I came home early.”

  “Not sure of that, either.”

  “No wonder you need help. You lost your baby already.”

  “Didn’t fuckin’ lose her. She’s with the club sisters.”

  “And none of them could help you out?” Or maybe they just didn’t want to. She remembered Stella from all those years ago, but didn’t know the rest of them.

  “Not long term.” She wasn’t here long term, either. Hopefully, Judd made that fact known.

  Not Judd, Judge. He’d made that clear in the phone call the other day. She could only call him Judge. She rolled her eyes now just like she had on the phone. At least Deacon hadn’t changed his name to something ridiculous.

  Like Cage.

  She helped him pull his blood-stained shirt back on as she talked. “Anyway, you’ll live. You just won’t enjoy living for the next few days, maybe even weeks, until you completely heal up.”

  “Got a kid to take care of.”

  “Should’ve thought about that before you agreed to stand there and allow my brother to beat the shit out of you.”

  “Had to be done.”

  “Did it?” She shook her head and decided not to dig deeper right now. “I’m here now. I’ll help where and when I can. Where are you living?”

  When he hesitated, she narrowed her eyes on him.

  “Nowhere, yet.”

  “Nowhere? Are you being serious right now?”

  “Yeah. Livin’ temporarily with Dutch. Gotta make other arrangements.”

  Judge didn’t mention the man was homeless. That made raising a baby a little more difficult than normal.

  “Well, once you figure it out and get settled in your own place, we can reevaluate my situation and how I’m going to help. But, as I’m sure... Judge told you, I’m not here permanently, Chris.”

  “Cage.” He grabbed his cut and tried to shrug it on. He failed and let out a long, low hiss.

  Jemma watched him try once more, then took pity on him and helped. “I’m only here until I find another job. I didn’t become a registered nurse to raise someone else’s baby, Chris.”

  “Cage.”

  “Right. Cage.” She sighed. “Until you do get your house in order—literally—I’ll head home and stay there. I miss Lottie’s cooking anyway.” She held out her hand and he stared at it. “Give me your phone.”

  Moving slowly and with another groan, he dug inside his cut for his phone, unlocked it and handed it to her. She snagged it from his long fingers and plugged in her number before handing it back.

  “Text me when you have it all figured out.”

  “Might take me the next eighteen years to figure it all out,” he muttered.

  “I won’t be here for the next eighteen years, Chris. You’ll be lucky if you have me for the next eighteen days. It won’t take me long to get another job since RNs are in high demand right now. So, get your shit together and soon.”

  She didn’t wait for his response, instead she left him still sitting on the table. Alone. She needed to maintain the hold on her reality and her frustrations with this MC life, not the part of her emotions curious about this wounded biker.

  If he needed help to get to The Barn, the Fury’s new clubhouse, then that was his problem, not hers.

  Her current problem was waiting for her at her 2020 Volvo XC40. She sighed as she approached where she’d parked it near the farmhouse. She loved that vehicle. And now she didn’t have a damn job to pay for it. Taking care of a biker’s surprise baby wasn’t going to make that monthly payment.

  “What the fuck is this thing?” Judge grumbled. “A fuckin’ Volvo, Jem? Really?”

  She had bought it in bright white and had the windows tinted dark. With the crossover vehicle’s black accents, she thought it looked badass. Apparently, her brother didn’t.

  Well, he didn’t have to drive it.

  Or pay for it.

  Damn it.

  “I deserved it.”

  “Didn’t say you don’t deserve a sweet ride, sis, but,” he shook his head, “a fuckin’ Volvo? Even Walt’s probably spinnin’ in his grave.”

  “Go take your judgement elsewhere, Judge.”

  His expression went grim.

  So did hers. “Brother...” She stopped in front of him, where he leaned against her driver’s door, his thick, tattooed arms crossed over his chest. To anyone else his expression and his stance would be intimidating. To her, it wasn’t. And she hoped to hell he wasn’t scratching her pretty white paint with that damn chained wallet of his, otherwise he was going to hear about it. “You did a fucking number on him.”

  “Yeah.”

  “You swore you wouldn’t be like Ox. You promised me, Judd.”

  He took a sharp inhale through his nostrils, even though his expression remained stony. “Yeah.”

  “Please don’t become Ox. Not just for me, but for Lottie.” Having to say those words made her chest ache. “Please,” came out on a broken whisper.

  Damn it!

  His jaw shifted and his eyes slid to the side to avoid hers. “Nothin’ like our old man.”

  Him avoiding her gaze didn’t bode well and after what she saw out at the edge of that field, Jemma wasn’t so sure he wasn’t turning into their father. When Lottie told her that her brother had taken over as sergeant at arms for the Fury, Jemma couldn’t believe it.

  Judd hated Ox. He hated Trixie. He was glad when Lottie and Walter took them in and away from that life.

  He willingly stepped right back into it.

  Jemma was ticked Trip even resurrected the damn club. She figured the Fury had been irrecoverably destroyed. That no one would ever dare piece the club and its shattered past back together.

  Somehow Trip had done it.

  And the group of bikers who had stood at that field proved just how many men were willing to follow him into the possible abyss.

  Even worse, her brother had stepped into their father’s boots. The same ones that killed Ox. She didn’t want Judge ending up with the same fate.

  Her brother was a much better man than Ox. He needed to remain that way. For their family. For his own.

  Especially now that he was in a serious relationship with Cassie and was helping raise her little girl, Daisy.

  And Ry, of all people, had shown up in Manning Grove to get to know his father. To build their relationship.

  Jemma didn’t want her nephew following the same deadly path as his grandfather. He had a bright future ahead of him with college scholarships. He needed to remain on that path and not let any of what happened on this farm make him take a wrong turn. He did not need to wear the Fury’s colors like his grandfather had and now, unfortunately, his father.

  “So, where’s my nephew? I’d like to meet him.”

  “Workin’. You can meet him later at dinner. Lottie wants us all sittin’ at her table tonight. Got a big dinner planned.”

  “Okay. I’m heading there next. I just wasn’t expecting to walk into what I did here. What have you gotten me into?”

  “You can say no, Jem.”

  Could she? “Don’t tempt me.” Her brother asked for her help. Even if this favor wasn’t for him, she owed him a lot. “Brother, just a warning... Like I said on the phone, I’m not staying long and you know why.”

  Judge nodded. “Yeah. Just ‘til he gets a handle on this shit and finds a long-term house mouse.”

  “Or another job comes up. A real job,” she added. “Can’t pay for that beautifu
l, badass Volvo behind you without one.”

  Her brother didn’t seem to find that funny. But then the whole situation—at least what she knew of it—wasn’t funny at all.

  That was driven home with what Judge said next. “Jem, that baby didn’t ask for any of this shit. Just like we didn’t. I’m the sergeant at arms of this club. My job’s to protect them all. Even that baby. No matter what.”

  “I hear you, brother,” she said on a sigh.

  “I also hear you. Just askin’ you to stay ‘til somethin’ better comes along for him or you. Jem, he can be a fuckin’ asshole, sometimes more than the rest of us, but this kid didn’t ask to be born, so she deserves better. You get what I’m sayin’?”

  “Yes, I get you. We don’t get to choose our parents, but we have to survive them. Good or bad.”

  “We survived.”

  “Have we?” With a tilt of her head, she stared up at him. “Look what you’re wearing on your back. Look what you did today. Are you proud of that? Are you okay with picking up where Ox left off?”

  “Truth?”

  Jemma lifted a palm. “You don’t have to say it. I already know.” She shook her head. “See you at dinner. Think about bringing the asshole and his offspring.”

  “Not enough room at the table, sis. Besides meetin’ my son, you get to finally meet my girls. Saylor, too.”

  “Saylor?”

  He smirked. “Daisy’s wrangler.”

  “Uh oh. She needs a wrangler?”

  “Believe me, uh oh don’t fuckin’ cut it when it comes to Crazy Daze.”

  Jemma couldn’t wait to meet Cassie, the woman who put a smile on her brother’s face. She wanted to thank her brother’s ol’ lady. And her spirited daughter.

  “Well, I can’t wait.” She brushed her hands off on her jeans. “I’d like to say I’m glad to be home, but I’m not going to lie. I miss you and Deke and Lottie, but I don’t miss the memories that being home brings.”

  “I hear you, sis.”

  Jemma stepped up to Judge, and when he pushed off her car, she wrapped her arms around his thick waist. She squeezed harder when he enveloped her tightly in his arms. His lips pressed against the top of her head. She was tall, but he was much taller.