All right then.
Dutch didn’t know if that was cerebral.
But he hoped like fuck it’d be long-lasting.
“Right.”
“We got any other issues we don’t know about that you dothat you can help us solve?”Eddie joked.
“Not right now,” Dutch told him.
“You know my phone number when you do.Later, Dutch.”
“Later, Eddie.”
Dutch tucked his phone in his back pocket.
“Why yougrinnin’ like that?”Hugger asked.
The kid was surly.Big.Beefy.According to Carissa, he was“teddy-bear good-looking.”
But he was a teddy bear to teddy bears like Chucky was todolls.
None of the brothers knew what was under his skin.
Except maybe Rush.
Rush had put him forward and Rush read—and the man had donenothing since they took him on five months ago to contradict it—that the coreof Hugger was decent, solid.
So he wasn’t lovable.
Hound had hidden he was that for two decades.
Catch the man with his mother, or Wilder, for two seconds,you’d know where he was at.
“It’s just a good day,” Dutch answered.
“Yeah, I’d have a good day every day, I woke up next to yourtail,” Roscoe declared while strolling up to them, giving Dutch his usual shitabout Georgie.
Dutch opened his mouth, but Hugger got there first.
“Youwannataste your gonads inyour throat after I punch them up there, you keeptalkin’’bout his woman like that.”
And there was the solid.
“Relax, mountain man, I’m justgivin’him shit,” Roscoe said good-naturedly, “mountain man” being what Roscoe calledhim since Hugger was blond, with a massive, bushy light-and-dark beard, likeGrizzly Adams.
“Findsomethin’ else to give himshit about, leave his woman out of it,” Hugger warned.
And Dutch had to hand it to the guy, he was prospect, and hedidn’t hide he wanted the patch and was willing to work for it, but he was notbacking down from a patched-in brother.
Roscoe was assessing him, unoffended, but with interest.
Then Coe looked to Dutch.“You good?”
“Yup,” Dutch answered.
“Excuse me, do you carry WD-40?”a woman asked.
