“King’s got her locked up tight,” War told him. “She knows about the accident.”
“Accident,” Connor laughed, but this time, it didn’t quite reach his eyes. “Getting my brain spun around in my skull like a washing machine was no accident.”
I glanced at War, but he surreptitiously shook his head, telling me not to argue. I’d done that a lot at first. I didn’t like him depreciating what happened to him, but it only put him in a funk if we didn’t go along with it when he tried to make light of the situation.
“She was hanging out with the old ladies when I left, but she wants to see you too.”
“Good, let’s go,” Connor started to get up.
“Dude, I haven’t even got my food yet. Park your ass.”
Connor scowled but sat back down. Impatience and childlike tantrums were a side effect too. “War, you seen that server? Hud thinks she’s jailbait.” Jumping from one train of thought and mood to another with absolutely no segue way also afflicted him.
“Fuck man, she’s Bennie’s teenage granddaughter,” War told him. “You want a woman?” he asked, and I wasn’t surprised by the scowl on his face. But then it lightened, and he looked at me with a smirk. “I’m sure Tanya needs some consoling since this guy fucked and ducked.”
“Suck my ball sack,” I told him.
Connor laughed loudly, made an obscene hand gesture. “Gonna go out on a limb and say that was what got you into shit in the first place.”
“Get fucked.”
“Just not by Tanya,” War added with a laugh.
I gave them both death glares, but they kept on laughing at me. Fucking assholes.
I parked the truck by the garage and watched Connor get out and head for the old lady’s house. War went straight inside the clubhouse. He’d met with our lawyer earlier and had some work to sort out from that. I pocketed my keys and headed through the compound, past the house Connor had disappeared into and through a small patch of trees before coming to the Shed, which was what we nicknamed the cells.
Ballistic text me as we were leaving the diner, telling me to meet him here. I wasn’t sure who he had, but I looked forward to finding out. I was in that kind of mood. The headache had abated after the food and two glasses of water, and I’d crunched down a couple of Advil on the way back, but I still felt shit and needed an outlet.
I didn’t run across anyone on the way, which I was grateful for. It was quiet at this end of the compound and a decent walk away from the houses. The shed had been soundproofed, but you could never be too careful. No one wanted anyone hearing the sounds that invariably came from here.
Using a key on the chain at my hip, I unlocked the heavy steel door and headed inside. I could hear some shuffling and moaning coming from beyond the cells in the big open tiled room at the end. The cells were currently all empty.
Beyond the room where all business was conducted was a large area that reminded me of a morgue. Technically, it was. It was where things got ‘cleaned up’ before they were transported elsewhere, when necessary.
Inside the room, Hammer stood in the corner, arms folded, looking bored. He was the club Reaper and was called in when the unlucky person who found themselves here would never leave on two legs. Notthat most people left here of their own volition. It was serious shit when they found themselves in the Shed.
The room smelled of copper and sweat, the sour scent of fear. There was a man chained to the wall, his arms drawn up high enough that his toes barely touched the floor, not that he could plant them. His arms were the only thing keeping him up, and they were stretched to their limit. He was wearing just a pair of torn jeans that were covered in blood. His boots and socks had been discarded, to be disposed of once Ballistic was done.
I also noticed a leather cut tossed on the other side of the room. I could just make out the Kingsmen patch.
I cracked my knuckles, drawing Ballistic’s eyes for a moment, but he went back to the guy on the wall. The man also glanced at me, struggling to lift his head. His face was barely recognizable. I wasn’t sure his own mother would know him.
His forehead was split open, his hair matted with blood. Both eyes were swollen, only one was open enough to see what was going on. Blood dripped down his chin from his lip, which was split and I’m sure a few teeth had been knocked loose. Ballistic was thorough in his methods.
Three long slices that looked as if they had been bleeding for a while and were now coagulating marred his chest from collarbone to belly button. I winced slightly when I noticed a nipple was missing.
Careful not to touch anything, I just waited. Ballistic was running the tip of a blade back and forth over the side of his jeans, his thumb pressed to the blunt edge. Not enough to cut through the fabric, but enough to show the malice and intent in the movement. A promise of what was coming.
“Who else was there that night?” Ballistic asked, his voice measured and calm. He only asked what was necessary, the questions he wanted answers to.
“Uug oo.”
That was a good effort of a ‘fuck you’considering his mouth was ruined to shit. I was getting an idea what this was about, and I took a step closer. Ballistic nodded to the question in my eyes. My fists clenched as I looked at the scum on the wall. This was one of them.
“He was overheard bragging. Dumb fuck,” Ballistic muttered to me. “Stitch wanna be here…?” he left the question hanging. It’d been a while since I heard Connor’s road name, so named for always having people in stitches with laughter.
To be honest, I wasn’t sure Connor wanted to witness this. He had made no insinuations he wanted a part of what happened to his attackers when we caught them. War though, he might want to, and he could ask Connor his thoughts.
