We dragged him into a side room and threw him into a chair.
“You two,” JD said, pointing toward the prospects, “guard the hangar doors. Swampy, Bear, go check out the jet, see if there’s anything in there—deeds, manifestos, anything we canuse. Confessor, keep watch at the bottom of the jet stairs. Tex, Moose, and I gotta little questioning to do.”
“Maybe I should stay and help,” Confessor said.
“You fuckingputa!” the man yelled, and spat a mouthful of blood onto the front of Confessor.
Swampy punched him hard enough to snap his head back and he cried out in pain and grabbed at his face. Moose grabbed the man's arms and dragged him behind his back hard enough that we all heard the audible crack. His arms weren’t broken, but they were both dislocated, and his screams echoed off the walls around us.
Nowhe knew what was coming.
“Please,” he began, but JD held a finger up to his lips and shook his head.
“Shhh, that’s not how this works.”
The man in the chair snapped his jaw shut and nodded at JD. “Sí, sí.”
“Now now, we all know you can speak fucking English so don’t try that shit with me,” JD said, putting his face close to the other mans.
“Okay, okay,” the man replied, and JD stood upright.
JD looked across at Swampy and nodded. “Get to work.”
On that command, everyone left on their orders. I stood by the door, glaring like I could burn this motherfucker to the ground just by hate alone.
“Where is he?” JD asked quietly.
The man shook his head. “I don’t?—”
Moose drove a knife into his thigh and a scream tore out of his throat and echoed off the walls.
“Where. Is. He,” JD asked again.
The man sobbed, shaking his head again. “I cannot. I cannot.”
We took our time, because pain has a way of loosening tongues, and ten minutes later we were rewarded when he cracked.
“Hotel downtown, third floor…” he gasped. “Please.”
JD leaned closer. “Name.”
He gave it easily, and the room number quickly followed.
I looked across at the others, satisfied that we had what we needed.
Swampy pulled the knife free of the man’s leg and his body sagged in relief. Blood had pooled underneath the chair, and our boots splashed in it every time we got close to him. Back at the clubhouse we’d had a specific room for this sort of thing, with drainage straight into the drains so that cleaning was kept at a minimum. We may have been killers but we treated our staff good, and if we could help out with a little cleaning issue, we would. I felt sorry for the poor bastard that would walk in on this mess.
The man’s head rolled on his shoulders as his eyes glassy as he tried to focus. Blood dripped from his swollen bottom lip and his nose was bent at an awkward angle.
“Por favor?” he mumbled, between broken, bloody teeth.
Moose gripped him by the hair and lifted his head up so he could stare directly into his eyes.
“Ni siquiera cerca, motherfucker,” he said, shoving the man backwards.
He thought he’d bought his life with his words, but he hadn’t. It was way past that. I wouldn’t rest until every one of these fuckers were dead and buried in unmarked graves.
“Do you want the honors?” JD asked, holding out his pistol.
