“I’m gay.” Turd points out.
“Yes, I know. But that doesn’t diminish his fears. He realized he’s into men. Add in the fact he’s into a cop, and his fears amplified.” I let out a breath, “I’m rambling. The point is. We should have waited and talked to him. The ones we claim are off-limits. Yet because Knuckles claimed someone with a dick, you threw all the rules out the window.”
Everyone is quiet. The rumble of a motorcycle cuts through the silence. We all turn and watch as Knuckles pulls up on his bike. I can’t deny it. I’m worried. He parks his bike and turns it off. When he removes his helmet, he doesn’t get off right away.
“I went and said goodbye to Storm. I tried to go home and sleep, but I couldn’t. Don’t ask me if I forgive you because I don’t. Not yet. I don’t know when or if I will. But Artem called me and told me I needed to come back. He said he’s on his way back with more information, and for some fucking reason, I have to hear it too.”
When Rafe got Whitley down, they took him and left to get him treated. “Is he bringing Whitley?” I ask.
“He better fucking not. He needs a fucking hospital after what you mother fuckers did to him. Actually, after what Dizz did to him.” Knuckles gets off his bike and stomps up to Dizz. Not many have the balls to do so. He doesn’t look like much, but he is probably the worst of us all. “If he dies because of you, I promise you, you’re next.”
I watch with a weary gaze as Dizz stares Knuckles down. Like he is trying to decide what he should do next, but when he sticks his hand out to shake Knuckles’, I’m shocked.
“I’ve had some time to think about it, and seeing how you handled the prospect even after everything—” Dizz starts.
“—I didn’t do it for you guys. I did it for Storm and the women and kids. We need all the threats taken out.” Knuckles spits at him, shoving Dizz’s hand away. “Artem is showing up with intel, and then I am going to use it to blow away the last remaining sources.” Knuckles pushes past Dizz and Cowboy, heading toward the barn.
“I wouldn’t go in there if you feel queasy,” Turd sings out after Knuckles.
My attention is drawn away from my bickering and brooding brothers as a large SUV drives around to the barn. As soon as it comes to a stop, the back passenger door springs open, and a body falls to the ground. A body in a cop’s uniform. I hear Knuckles scream as he rushes to the SUV. He hits the ground and turns the body over, showing us MacIntyre. Dead from a shot to the head.
“Sorry for the fright. This one wouldn’t shut up, and it was creating such a headache,” Artem states as he walks around from the other side of the SUV, slowly twisting off a silencer from his gun. He wipes it clean before tossing it on the body. “I have two more gifts for you to unwrap. Where would you like them?” Artem claps his hands together and rubs them.
I think about all the places we could put them. Bonnie is still in the cellar. Which, gross. Butcher chopped up the prospect in the barn. We don’t have many places to do this kind of thing. And because of The Company, we don’t even have a prospect for the clean-up crew. What the fuck has been going on here?
“Bring them outside the cellar. We’ll have a chat. Then we can show them what happens to pedo scum.” Cowboy says, cooly.
He turns on his heels, and Dizz and a few other brothers follow him. I head to the back of the SUV and open the door. There, tied up and sitting smashed in a very homoerotic position, is Connard and his little weasel, Stephens.
“Well, well, well. How the tables have turned.” I say with a smirk. Connard growls at me, but his face is shoved in Stephens’ crotch. “I wouldn’t do that too much now, sir. You might give your butt buddy the wrong impression.” I laugh and pull one of Stephens’ legs, causing them both to stumble out of the back of the SUV. Willie and Rambo are right there to scoop them up and bring them to the root cellar.
Closing the door, I take a few seconds to take a breath. The sun has been up for about an hour, and the night of whatever day this is, is finally ending. Hopefully, soon we can start healing—start finding a new normal. I look up at the sky and send up a small prayer this is really over. Then I follow the crew to where we will be interrogating the last of The Company.
***
Connard and Stephens are on their knees, still gagged, while we all huddle around them. Cowboy looks at them, watching them for a sign of caving in before he starts talking.
“You ruined my town. You killed my family. Give me one good reason why I shouldn’t make your death as painful as possible.” His eyes cut to Butcher, who is slowly defaulting to his feral demon state. “One of your own killed my VP and his,” he points to Butcher, “piggies. We didn’t get retribution from him. But I will take one, or both, of you as a surrogate for the rage we’re feeling. I’m sure with how Butcher is feeling, he’ll tear you apart, piece by piece, with his bare hands. But don’t worry,” he grips Connard’s cheeks so he can mock him even more. “He’ll only touch the non-vital parts first. This way, you’re alive to watch him rip out your heart and eat it.”
I don’t know if that’s true, but I’m also at the point in my time with this MC that I’m not going to question it. Butcher is one fucked up man. I love him to death. He’s my brother, AJ’s father, my son’s grandfather, but he’s a fucked up man. If eating someone’s heart is what he needs to confirm someone isn’t coming back, then so be it.
“That was a fun and fulfilling kill,” Dizz says with an evil smirk playing on his lips. I remember the day clearly. Neil, the reason behind Dizz’s wife and daughter having to hide, was caught. Dizz and Butcher didn’t hold back in their treatment of him. If they do anything like they did the night they killed Neil, I can honestly say I don’t want to be here to watch.
Stephens starts to cry and pisses his pants. “Already?” I ask. I hate it when they do it so early. It makes the rest of our torture time less fun. “Great. Now we’re all gonna have to smell your stale piss,” I tell him as I kick his leg.
Stephens starts to try and talk through the gag Artem placed on him. Drool starts to drip down his chin. He looks at all of us, hoping one of us will take some form of mercy on him. Sure, we will when we end your life. Cowboy looks up at Rambo and gives him a small nod. Rambo takes the cue and removes the wet, slimy gag from the rat’s mouth.
“Connard recruited us. Tried to make it so we would be invisible in this town. We just needed to make sure the money people were happy. That was getting harder and harder with Sheriff Anderson around. Connard made sure he was in place and made the call to a guy named Seamus to make the kill.” Connard tries to scream over his gag at Stephens. His attempt to tell him to shut up falls on deaf ears. “Then, there was the old bat that was stepping on Neil’s toes. Connard was the one who ordered her hit, or I wouldn’t have killed her. She was bringing too much attention here. The heat was on us, and we needed it to die down for a while. I only did what I was asked.” Stephens starts crying, “Please don’t kill me. I was just a go-along.”
Dizz takes a step forward and smacks Stephens on the face. “There, there, buddy. It’s okay,” he tells him in the most condescending voice I have ever heard, “you were just doing your job. Can’t say I’m sad about the bitch being dead. She was such a pain in my ass.”
“Yes, exactly. I was only doing what I was told. I’m a good employee. I’m loyal.”
“Yeah, let’s call it that,” Dizz tells him and turns and steps back.
Cowboy stands and pulls out his gun, the one I know is empty and puts it right to Stephens’ forehead and pulls the trigger back. It only makes a hollow click, but Stephens lets out a soft cry, and I notice the wet spot on his pants gets bigger.
“Gross,” I mumble, taking a small step back.
