Well, that was easy. Excuse made and accepted, I go to my car, appreciating now Saul’s out of my hair I won’t need to keep getting new rentals. It’s a sign of how much better my life is going to be without him in the picture.
I haven’t asked what’s happened to him as I really don’t want to know, as long as I can be assured he’s out of my way for good.
And knowing that, it’s with a new sense of confidence that I get into the driver’s seat and head down the road.
While I’ve never been invited to the clubhouse, when one my bodyguards once needed to collect something, I waited in the car outside.
At least I know where it is, and won’t be driving around in circles trying to find it.
CHAPTERTWENTY-ONE
Petty
Being tied to this chair is agony as I’m unable to move in any way to make myself more comfortable. My arms are stretched behind me, the strain on my muscles adding to everything else. I’ve no way to tell what’s happening in the clubhouse above—this cellar is soundproofed for good reason—or to judge how much time has passed since I’ve been abandoned down here.
I may not be alone, but I ignore the groans from the man hanging behind me. I’ve too much to concern myself to think about him. There’s some comfort from knowing that RoseLyn’s problems are over, and that the man responsible is in as much, if not more, pain than me.
However uncomfortable that I am, however much my head and other parts of me throb, I suspect waiting is better than what's to come. I’ve probably an upfront-and-personal meeting with Twister in his role as the enforcer, on my horizon. What worries me most is how much punishment I can take on top of my current injuries without wanting to beg for the punishment to stop. But I’m a man. I’ll just have to fucking take it. I’d rather go to my grave silent than give my brothers any cause to think that I’m pathetic and weak.
I’ll use the truth as my defence, that I didn’t intentionally lay a finger on Britney, that I only pushed her and that it was her misfortune she hit her head. But if that doesn’t satisfy them, then I’ll keep my mouth shut. I won’t say I acted to save myself.
How could a man admit he’s being beaten up by his wife? I think their mockery alone would kill me. I’d rather see disappointment in their eyes and leave them believing I lost my temper and hurt Brit than admit she’s been the one torturing me.
How could my brothers trust me to have their back if they knew how pitiable I truly am?
Whatever punishment they dole out, I’ll take it.
There’s another drawn-out groan from behind me.
“Shut the fuck up,” I growl. Out of the two of us, only he deserves the punishment. He should keep quiet and take it. His soundtrack only adds to my own misery.
Why have they been so quick to take Britney’s side without waiting to hear mine? How have they judged me and found me guilty without learning all the facts? Do they think that little of me that they think I’d beat up a woman for no reason? Can’t they see how manipulative that bitch is? But, of course, they can’t. She managed to suck me in and get my ring on her finger without me ever suspecting how violent she was.She made me love her.Now I hate her. And I especially hate that she’s come back and that she’s ruined my life.
If Red takes my patch, he’ll leave me nothing to live for.
I shouldn’t have allowed her to come to Vegas. I shouldn’t have taken that apartment let alone admitted that she was my wife. Fuck, but I’m the pathetic creature who took her back. I should have refused to have anything more to do with her. But shoulds, ifs and buts are no help right now. I could have done many things better in hindsight, such as not marrying in haste and repenting at leisure.
But why had Britney set me up? Does she not know how dangerous it is to play with the Devils? Does she want me out of the club? Is that the future she sees for me? But she’s got no fucking idea how serious this is. Not only may I not be a Devil for much longer, I might not even be breathing at the end of whatever I’ve got to come. I’ve pushed Red’s buttons before, and already walk a tightrope with him. This might be enough to push him over the edge.
What’s Britney got to gain from all this? A civilian husband with no way of supporting her? If I live, does she think there’s a chance I’d forgive her?
Well not this time. This lie and its consequences are too big to be brushed under the carpet and there will be no coming back from this for us. If I am left alive, the only time she’ll have contact with me is to sign those divorce papers. Fuck her parole officer and what’s expected of her. I couldn’t give a damn if she goes back inside.
Britney can be crazy, but insane she isn’t. She’s got to know the likely results of her running to the club with this bullshit.
I come back to the question, what does she think she’ll be getting out of it? Apart from getting her kicks seeing somebody else beating me up?
It’s getting harder and harder to think straight. Even the moans from behind me seem to be fading out. My throat is dry as it’s far too warm down here. My head throbs and my vision seems blurry. Everything aches and as stiffness sets in to top it all off, I’m wishing for an end to my suffering, and almost start to hope for a quick bullet to the brain.
It’s starting to seem impossible that even Twister could add to the level of pain I’m currently experiencing.
Time passes. I think I drift in and out of consciousness, but eventually I hear the door open, and multiple footsteps come down the stairs.
Struggling to come back to my senses, I blink my eyes as I glance up to see Red leading what looks like the whole club. The basement gets crowded with everyone in it but thank fuck someone has the forethought to turn on the air-conditioning. Yeah, they’ll want comfort for themselves if not for me, but I relish the small relief as cool air washes across my overheated skin.
Saul chooses to emit a howl which is quickly cut off as Twister steps forward with duct tape in hand. “You’ll get your fuckin’ chance later,” he growls.
Once he’s dealt with me, he means.
