Anarchist

Chapter 3: LAW

I need this s**t. What the f**k am I supposed to do with this kid? I can't have her hanging around the clubhouse, she's too f*****g young, and sooner or later, someone will be sniffing after her.

My guys are p***y hounds. Some of them I can trust, others I'm still feeling out. I'm pretty sure none of my crew would f**k with her, but there were always newbies coming onto the place looking for a spot.

Not to mention my place is still a working ranch, and there were a lot of out-of-towners on the place at any given time.

I hopped off my ride and watched the others as they headed back to the clubhouse. That's another thing I hadn't f*****g asked for. I wasn't cut out to be the leader of s**t.

I'm a loner down to my core, but these f***s got it in their heads that I was the man for the job and hitched their f****d up wagons to my trail.

Even the army knew to separate my ass from the rest of humanity. Snipers didn't normally work with a crew these days; at least I didn't.

I headed inside to see what the f**k was waiting for me now. When that fucker killed my family, I had one thing on my mind, to f**k his s**t up. Now I'm f*****g Robin Hood with a band of f****d up, pissed-off outlaws.

"Ma'am, I'm going to take you to see your daughter now." She was standing in the yard with her s**t at her feet, looking lost. Looked to be in some type of shock, if you ask me.

She followed me inside, where the kid was still sitting in the chair where I'd left her. Her face looked worse than when I left; her eye was almost swollen shut now, and the color was spreading.

"Oh, Dana." The older woman ran towards her daughter, whose eyes were staring at the door in fear.

It took me a second to figure out that she was expecting her dad to come through there next. Damn, no kid should ever be that afraid of her own parent.

I let them get reacquainted for ten minutes. I had to go have a sit-down with my crew to discuss what the f**k we were gonna do, but I didn't want to leave her alone again so soon.

I have no idea what condition the clubhouse is in if there were any naked p*****s lying around over there.

We live in the middle of nowhere pretty much, or at least my family's ranch is, and there isn't much to do around here except fight or f**k, once the work is done.

I still run cattle the same way dad had, and for all intents and purposes, it's still a working ranch.

I'd worked hard in the last few years to build the place back up after Royce's little attempted coup.

Thank heavens dad's old contacts trusted me enough to still do business with me. Royce hadn't destroyed the place, only a little damage and a few lost heads of cattle, nothing that couldn't be replaced.

Actually, the reason the place hadn't been destroyed was because of some of the men who were here now.

Men who'd seen the fire and set about putting it out before they'd found the family in the partially burnt out main house with their throats cut.

There had been some damage to the bunkhouse and the barns as well, but at the time, I really could give a f**k; the only thing I wanted in those days was Royce Davis' blood in my teeth.

It was only because of my brother that I had tempered some of my rage. He needed something to distract him, and I used the rebuilding and patching up of the place to do that.

It hadn't taken as long as it would have if we'd been doing it alone, but in just a few weeks, we'd had the place up and running like new.

I have my crew to thank for that. Men had just started showing up in the days following to help the hands that were still here.

Most of them had stories of my dad or mom's kindness to them in the past. That was the kind of people my folks had been, what they'd raised us to be.

If ma were here now, she'd s**t a brick; her baby boys hadn't exactly turned out the way she'd expected.

Then again, if some asshole hadn't raped and slaughtered her, maybe we would've turned out to be the perfect little gentlemen she'd strived so hard for.

I clenched my fists as the raw wound opened just a little around the edges. I never let myself dwell on that night. I've told myself that until I finish off that asshole, I won't grieve in my soul.

So I carry it with me; it fuels my anger and hate. I didn't want the same for Kyle, but the little fucker's head was even harder than mine.

"Some of that stuff you got out there hers?" I addressed the woman who was hovering over her daughter.

She nodded as she sat and held her daughter's hands. "Fine, we'll bring hers in, and then I'll show you where you're gonna stay."

"What do you mean, I'm not staying with my daughter?"

"No." She started to protest, but I cut her off.

"How old is your daughter?"

"Eighteen." She answered before giving it any thought, and I saw the realization of her mistake written all over her face as soon as the word left her mouth.

"Then she doesn't need you to stay with her; I'm not too jazzed about having strange people in my home." There was that, and the fact that I didn't know her well enough to know if I could trust her.

I'd taken her out of there because she'd been hurt, but I have no idea where her mind is at, and until I'm sure she's not gonna try to encourage the kid to head back into danger, she's out.

"But she might need me. She's…"

"She came to me; she's got me. Besides, you didn't do that good of a f*****g job protecting her before now, did you? Now that she doesn't need it, I don't think that's a good time to start."

She looked like I'd kicked her, but hey, the truth is the truth any way you slice it.

"Come, Dana." I helped her up from the chair and led the way out the door with her mother following behind.