I laugh as I tell him about my decision. "Everything good is built on a Wednesday. Two is my favorite number. And October second is on a Wednesday this year. It won't be freezing cold, or terribly hot. And it's the perfect distance away for us to book at the park.Andwe can take the RV and Buddy," I shrug. "It's perfect."
Cass stares at me, admiration in his eyes. "It's perfect."
"I already told most of the club ol' ladies and sent them the booking information. I need to book our RV spot today and need to figure out who is going to officiate. And I have to tell my mom, and you need to tell Clayton, which I'm sure he's already been told by one of the OKC members," I ramble.
Cass chuckles. "Oh, he already knows. I called him to tell him and he was already aware. He told me to tell you he's honoredthat you want to say our vows in the same slice of heaven that he and Adelaide said theirs. And said I'd better keep you happy because you're the best damn thing I've ever found and he knows an idiot like me could fuck it up in an instant," he says, rolling his eyes.
"Oh, well youknowhe's right," I tease.
Cass flips me off and I laugh, putting my cereal bowl in the sink. "Are you hungry?"
He shakes his head no. "Nah, we ate on the way home."
"Good. Hey, can I ask you something?" I ask, warily.
Cass nods. "Of course, baby. You can ask me anything."
"Is it over?" I ask, unsure if he will give me an answer at all.
"Yes, baby. It's over," he says reassuringly.
That is all I needed to hear. It's over. Now, hopefully we never have to hear the name "Moccasins" again.
Chapter Fifteen
Cass
Yesterday
Reaper opens the door to the shop where Gater is tied up. I enter with Scott right behind me. The lighting is dim, the stench of dried blood lingers in the air, and the visual of Gater dangling helplessly in front of me satisfies the sick, twisted piece of the beast within. I shouldn't feel this way. I shouldn't feel so fucking justified and righteous staring at a man, helpless. Unable to defend himself. But he didn't give a fuck about me or my fiancée or our entire fucking club family being helpless. So, why should I give a fuck about him? I don't know what else I have in store for him. Or what Scott has in mind, but I do know that we are teetering near the end of his life.
I ought to slice him from his chin to his goddamn balls, split him open and leave him out for the wild animals and elements to ravage his slowly decaying body while he's still alive. Nothing would give me more satisfaction than to watch him fucking suffer. I consider asking Reaper if that's a possibility, what with all the land he owns here and the woods behind the house, but I think better of it. Justice will have to be served from inside theconfines of this soundproof, bullet proof, everything proof room that Reaper's had installed just for occasions like this one.
Gater is half out of it when the heavy door slams behind us. His whole body rattles at the intrusive sound.
"Fucking pussy," Scott murmurs, disgust clear in his voice.
He's just as unamused as I am at Gater's dishonor. One thing about being part of this club is loyalty. We practice it. Preach it. And uphold it at all costs. To betray that is to betray the very essence of all that could possibly be good within your soul. Much of what we do is frowned upon. Violent. Unholy. But to betray the people and the patch that have been there for you for years? Absolutely disgusting.
Scott rears back and punches Gater in the ribs. The sound of the bone cracking sends a wave of excitement over me. I love the sound of bones cracking in the morning.
"You're beating on a man who can't defend himself.....and I'm...the pussy?" Gater huffs out, trying to catch his breath.
"You got some fucking nerve," Scott growls.
Gater closes his eyes as his chest heaves. He takes a few deep breaths, and I can tell that the fresh pain of his broken ribs is hitting him hard. Fucking good. I can't think of anyone else I'd rather turn into the monster I used to be, for.
Reaper and his guys have interrogated Gater in between Scott and I taking turns beating him. He hasn't given up any information yet, but he's not been properly motivated yet, either, it seems.
"You going to talk, or you just want to take your beating and call it a day?" I ask, walking around in front of him where I can look him in the eyes.
"You ain't nothing but a bitch, Cass. Always have been," he grits.
I clock him in the jaw without hesitation.
"Eat shit, traitor. Your opinion means nothing.Youare nothing," I muse.
"Oh yeah? If that's the case, why does it make that fucking artery in your big ass neck pulse so hard?" Gater questions.
