They were told to not let everything fly free when Cassie’s girl was around. Even so, Judge would keep an eye on things and signal to his house mouse Saylor once it was time for Daisy to disappear.
The six-year-old usually gave Judge a huge helping of sass about having to leave, but it only took a few low spoken words from the big, bearded man to his future adopted daughter for that attitude to turn around.
He was the goddamn Daisy whisperer. Cassie would sit back with a grin on her face as she watched her ol’ man and her “mini-me” interact.
Ry left the second week in August to start his freshman year in college. Judge had to be proud of his eighteen-year-old son, who announced he’d be back for Thanksgiving break. Plans were already in the works by the ol’ ladies to have a huge Thanksgiving meal in The Barn. Shade had a feeling when Judge’s son returned, he’d only have eyes for Saylor again. Unless he found some college girl to focus on, instead.
At that age, it was hard to focus on anything but pussy.
Shade had his first pussy at almost fifteen with a much older woman. He had no idea that was how sex should be for a heterosexual male until he was taught the ins and outs. But once he had a taste of it, he decided it was for him.
Now, he only did it in moderation. Unlike his brothers.
He didn’t allow sex to control his life or thoughts because for too many years it had. Even when he didn’t understand what it was, what it meant, or why it was happening.
Previously, it had been an activity only to be endured. Something he was forced to do and didn’t have a say in the matter. If he resisted, things usually got worse. Unless resisting was expected and encouraged. He’d had two “owners” who got off on him fighting.
However, now he did have a say. A big one. So, when a sweet butt—or any woman—tried to push him to have sex with them, he usually dug in his heels. Nobody was making that decision for him anymore.
Nobody would ever do so again.
Just like someone touching his hair. In the past, it had been forced on him. He’d had no choice. His goddamn body was under his own control now. Nobody was stealing that from him again.
After getting a good buzz on, stuffing his gut, and managing to avoid the sweet butts’ sticky fingers, he found Trip and Judge to tell them he needed a moment and a word.
That was all he had to say. Both knew what it was about and automatically headed inside The Barn with Judge’s dog, Jury, on the man’s heels. Without a word, they climbed their way to the second floor, ending up at the table where the exec committee made their decisions.
It was always just the three of them since the whole committee wasn’t in on what Shade was doing. That was for their own protection. They all knew something was going on and probably could guess but the less they knew of the Clan Plan, the better. For now, anyway.
Shade studied the scarred, thick wood table as he sat. The same table the Originals used decades ago. The same table where Trip’s father, Buzz, sat as president and Judge’s father, Ox, sat as sergeant at arms.
Both Trip and Judge were the second generation Fury, while Shade was a newcomer. A nobody. He didn’t come from Fury blood. He didn’t even come from any biker blood. Even so, he became as much a part of the Fury as the other two men sitting at the same table. That acceptance was one reason he didn’t mind heading up the mountain to take out the fucking trash.
But he had his own trash to take out, too. That had been put on hold once he landed in Manning Grove and became a prospect. At first, he wasn’t sure he’d stay because he’d never stayed anywhere for any length of time. It was easier to stay under the radar that way. But once here, he sat back, observed and discovered what his life had been missing.
Since the age of four.
He cleared his throat and picked his words carefully, telling them about the armed guard he handled during the week and the issue that happened Friday night with him almost getting caught.
Judge sat quietly and stroked his beard with one hand and Jury’s head with the other as he waited until Shade was done speaking. No surprise, Trip’s fingers twitched against the table because Shade was speaking so slowly.
Their prez didn’t have a lot of patience, but he worked hard on it. He did his best to be cool-headed and fair. Unlike the former Fury president.
Shade had heard the stories and if Trip had been anything like Buzz, he probably would have shed that prospect cut and headed out back on his own. He’d lived with men who were cruel and over-controlling for a decade, he didn’t need any more of that shit.