“Let me see,” I said before landing another short, sharp, punch right to his already broken nose. And while I felt zero pity for Cupid, I did appreciate the amount of pain that must have caused him. It was a moment I’d remind myself of whenever Waverly was triggered by something or struggling with her emotions due to what he did to her. I’d remember how good it felt to connect with his face, and the length of time after I hit him before he was even able to cry out in pain.
“Damn, son. That looked like it hurt,” I said, taunting him as his face began to swell up like a tomato.
Once able to speak again Cupid pleaded, “If you let me go I can get you money.”
“Again, if we wanted money, we would have taken you to an ATM. We’re here to do what the cops and prison guards couldn’t do. We found you, now we’re going to make you suffer like you made your victims suffer. Then, once we’ve beaten you nearly to death, we’re gonna put you inside a hole where no one will ever find you.”
“Bullshit,” Cupid said, spitting blood onto the plank floorboards. “I don’t see diamonds on your patches.”
“And lucky for you, I promised someone I love I wouldn’t do anything to earn one tonight.”
Flea stepped forward, donning a pair of brass knuckles. “But that doesn’t mean we can’t drag you to death’s door.”
“Fuck you. You don’t scare me,” Cupid replied.
I laughed. “I haven’t even told you the scary part yet. Us beating you until you’re reduced do hamburger meat is merely the opening act. The headliner is our friend, agent Jaxon Quinn, who’s currently en route and should be landing at Magic Valley Regional Airport.”
“He’s flying in on one of the FBI’s Gulfstream G550s,” Hatch said. “On account of the fact that he’s with the FBI.”
“So, fucking what? The FBI is always involved with escaped convict cases. They’ll throw me back in jail with some added time and I’ll get out when I beat the case at trial.”
I shook my head. “Agent Quinn isn’t coming totake you back to prison.”
“Then where the fuck does he think he’s taking me?”
“He’s going to put you on that very same Gulfstream he flew in on, but instead of taking you back to Colorado, he’ll be taking you to an undisclosed CIA black site. You will then be handed over to the CIA as a known terrorist, who is involved in active, mass casualty plots against the United States. This black site is where you will spend the rest of your life. Alone, locked in a cell, shackles around your wrists and ankles, twenty-four hours a day. The only times you’ll have any meaningful human interaction is while you’re being interrogated.”
“You can’t get away with something like that. I’m an American. I have rights.”
“That’s right,” Hatch said. “You’re an American named Cody Chalmers. You’re a thirty-two-year-old former college professor from Hawthorne College who was radicalized by the Taliban in 2005 after you were captured in Afghanistan during a humanitarian aid effort. The FBI will have a full dossier on you, complete with your fingerprints, dental records and medical history. Nothing about this handover will seem out of the ordinary except for the prisoner constantly going on about how he’s not really a traitorous terrorist, but an outlaw biker who’s escaped from prison while awaiting trial for rape, murder, and criminal extortion.”
“Although, I hope you have good penmanship,” I said.
“Why’s that?” Cupid seethed.
“Because you’re gonna have to tell your story to the CIA in writing after I cut your tongue out,” I said, pulling my k-bar knife from its sheath. “Don’t worry. I keep it nice and sharp. After all, they don’t call me Razor for nothing.”
By the time Jaxon came to collect Cupid, we’d more than made good on our promise to give him the beating of a lifetime. I wasn’t even sure he’d survive the flight to wherever Jaxon was taking him, and honestly, I didn’t really care. Dead or alive, he’d never see the light of day again, let alone get anywhere near Waverly and that’s what I cared about the most.
After I removed Cupid’s tongue, I thought about forcing it down his throat, but Hatch had a better idea. He wrapped it up tight and mailed it to the Supreme Rider’s clubhouse with a note explaining this is what happens to rapist bikers in their town.
“Hopefully this’ll strike some fear and confusion into the hearts of those Aryan assholes.”
“Yeah,” I replied. “And if we ever need more parts to send the Supreme Riders, we can always ask the CIA to send us one of Cupid’s ears or something.”
“The Dogs of Fire have teeth alright,” Hatch said.
“Yeah. We’ll bite your fucking tongue outta your head,” Flea replied.
I’m not sure what it meant about us as human beings that we could make jokes after what we’d just done, but I did know that it meant my club brothers would do anything to protect the woman I loved, and I loved them all for that.
* **
Waverly
I’d barely slept and other than the chicken Maisie had forced me to eat twelve hours ago, I hadn’t eaten anything, my stomach in knots not knowing if Gio was okay.
I knew he was alive because he texted me on occasion, but whether or not he was okay, I wasn’t entirely sure, because his texts were short, and they didn’t have any type of video proof attached.
