He nods, knowing it’s less likely anyone will follow her, but we can trust her. Stryker hands over the keys to the car and steps out of the way to let me pass.
“Oscar might have nightmares,” I pause. “He screams. Taylor knows what to do.”
He nods, his face stoic. When he first came to us, Stryker never wanted to let anyone know, but I saw it. He suffered with nightmares too. Something has given him PTSD.
He assures me they will all be okay and I head out.
The instant my feet hit the steps down to the lobby, my mind set switches and I harden my head and my heart because I need to.
What I was going to do to Morris for hitting her was bad enough, it’s nothing compared to what is coming for Storm.
Once I step outside, I am not a father or a man who told his woman he loves her. I’m the President of the Blackhawk Disciples.
Chapter Twenty Four
Nero
The next time I punch, I think one of my knuckles breaks but I ignore the pain, like I’m ignoring everything else around me. His head lolls forward but I don’t give a shit, I hit him again and again, his head moving away and bouncing back straight into my waiting fist.
“He’s no good to us brain damaged.”
“Shut the fuck up.”
“Nero, stop.”
I turn to Rebel. “What the fuck did you just say?”
“Whatever I had to, to get you to stop pounding his face into meat. We’re not going to find Storm if you fucking kill him. The other two are already dead. This asshole is inner crew, unlike Chains.”
Deep down I hear what he is saying but the rage I’d kept bottled up for Taylor and Oscar’s sake is finally unleashed. And who better to take it out on than a man who thought it was okay to break into my house, and terrorize my family.
My breath is coming in heavy pants, and my knuckles are thumping with the pain. I can barely make a fist now I’ve stopped. Looking around the barn, I spot a two by four plank. The only people here are officers,we have everyone out looking for Storm, and making sure the cops aren’t on our backs.
“Jesus,” Rebel sighs as I point at the plank.
“Fury,” I snap.
At least he doesn’t question me. He grabs the piece of wood and brings it over. Rebel curses but I ignore him taking the plank. It has a nail in it. Good. Getting a good grip on it, I swing it at his leg. The nail goes into the meat of his thigh making it hard to pull it back, tearing his skin, but it wakes the fucker up and he screams.
“Where the fuck is he?” I scream at him.
“Stop, please, stop.”
Fuck this. I pull the gun out of the back of my jeans and fire into the top of his foot. It blows apart, his toes flying in all different directions.
Serves him right for wearing sneakers like a fucking middle schooler. No one is speaking now, not even Rebel. Whatever they’re seeing, they won’t interrupt. I’m like a fucking animal, I won’t deny that is exactly how I feel right now.
Wrapping my hand around his throat, I push him back, making his back arch and bend, and the front legs of the chair lift off the floor.
“Where. The fuck. Is he?” I grind out.
His lips flap and his face is turning blue. Shit, I didn’t even feel my hand squeezing around his neck, it’s gone numb from punching him so much, my knuckles are swollen and split.
I let him go, and he huffs out and sucks in air, over and over, then coughs when he takes it in too fast. His eyes widen when I point the gun at his groin. He starts groveling again, over and over, begging me not to do it.
Finally reaching his breaking point, he tells us an address. I lower the gun and look at Fury. He smiles and takes the gun and I walk away. I don’t give a shit about that guy, all I care about is Storm. All of them head out after me, a gunshot breaks the silence making me pause.
Fury comes out and looks at all of us. We can still hear him screaming.
