“Just the answers, no embellishment,” Prez states. “Not gonna lie, not feeling particularly friendly at the moment, Doc. For eight, nine…” He scoffs as he repeats Doc’s phrasing. “Years, you’ve been providing medical attention to the Mojave Devils while we were paying for your exclusive services, and may I remind you, paying you quite a lot.”
“You’ve got it wrong,” Doc yells. He seems to be angry at the implied insult to his ethical standards. “I didn’t step out on the Kings. I never offered my services to them. They never knew I was working with you. They were a small street gang when I first came upon them, grew into a bigger unit, and formed an MC over the years.” He spits out blood before continuing. “It was only when one of their members, whom you, for some goddamn unknown reason, brought in to prospect for the Kings, saw me around this clubhouse. Word got back to them that I was available to extract bullets and sew up wounds.”
“Fuckin’ Griz,” Saint murmurs, and all four of us spit on the floor.
I step forward, tilting my head toward Prez. Narrowing his eyes, sending a warning to me by just his expression, he nevertheless raises his chin, giving me permission. “Did you recognise that Griz was a member of the Mojave Devils when you came to the club?”
Prez, Tempest, and Freak inch closer. “Yes,” he admits. “But what business was it of mine? It wasn’t my place to warn you. I was just here to treat your fucking boo-boos.” As five pairs of feet take another pace toward him, he backtracks fast. “I didn’t know what Skunk was doing with the Kings, I promise you. I treat your MC. I’m not aware of your inner workings.”
Exchanging glances with each other, a whole conversation is completed without words. We’re all in agreement that justice, for this further betrayal, will be delivered by way of more pain being doled out, butafterwe’ve heard his full confession.
Prez takes a second to regather his thoughts. “So, when Skunk told them your medical skills were for sale, what was your response?”
Sighing, as though relieved to move on to a new topic, he offers, “I told them no. They’re a long drive from here, and it’s not very convenient.”
When he stops, Prez’s eyes pointedly glance over his head toward Freak.
“No, no. Don’t hurt me again. I’ll give you more. When they wouldn’t take no for an answer, they asked,demandedthat I go see them to talk about what the restitution might be for me driving all that way when they needed medical treatment.” Pausing, he swallows, his Adam’s apple bobbing in his neck. “When I got there, they had pictures of me and the various liaisons I’d had with girls, going back years.” His voice lowers, his eyes squeeze shut, then reopen, and he whispers, “They offered me two options. Either they’d expose all the evidence they had on me, or I gave them the benefit of my medical skills in return for me having the first choice of girls.”
“We’re talking young girls. Kids. Pre-pubescent.” Prez doesn’t phrase it as a question, but Doc replies anyway.
“Yes.” Fuck, I want to kill him for hearing the admission out of his mouth. It confirms what an animal he is.
Prez gestures at Freak who seems overeager to get on with the business of breaking fingers.
But the enforcer’s not needed, at least for now. Doc almost seems lost in his own little world, as he continues talking without encouragement. “It’s not my fault,” he whines. “I’ve gota sickness, I know, but there’s no cure. I have cravings, and when it’s offered to me, I can’t help myself. I have to take it.”
“And ruin the life of a little girl,” Prez spits at him.
“They were going to be ruined anyway. They were the product that the Mojave Devils were going to sell. I just got first dibs on some of them.”
“What did you have to give MDMC in return? And don’t give me that rubbish about medical attention, as I’m not stupid. I know there was more.”
Doc hesitates. I see Tempest raise his hand, but Doc continues without needing encouragement, his shoulders slumping. “You were right earlier. Once they knew of my connection with you, they wanted all I could tell them about the club. Most of it, though, they already knew from what Skunk had fed back.”
Prez stands and kicks his chair over, making Doc rear back in his seat. “Not what you said earlier. Then, you just casually mentioned you’d seen the same asshole with us and with them. Yet, now you admit to way more than that. You fuckin’ knew we had a traitor in the club.”
“Wasn’t my business to get caught in the middle,” he replies haughtily. “What’s it to me if biker scum takes each other out?”
I can tell Freak’s having difficulty restraining himself. On my part, I’m vibrating with anger, and I see Saint and Tempest are having the same trouble. Respect for our prez keeps us in place.
“Go on,” he growls.
“Skunk disappeared, and they asked me what I knew about that. I told them I had no idea. I hadn’t treated him. He’d had no injury I’d seen. One day he was there, on my next visit, he wasn’t, and that’s all I could tell them. They did ask whether you’d tightened security after Skunk was last seen.”
“And you told them?”
He answers Prez with a sad little nod.
“About the new gates, about the cameras?”
Again, another up and down dip of his head.
“For fuck’s sake,” Saint roars. “Knew we should never have trusted you.”
Prez picks up his chair, turns it around, and now sits on it with his arms folded over the back. I might not be able to see it, but I can imagine his piercing stare. “Okay, so now you start talking about them. You tell us everything you know about the MDMC, and be sure you leave nothing out. I want to know about their numbers, their clubhouse, their fuckin’ trade in human flesh, their bowel movements, how often they take a piss, and anything else you’ve learned.”
I don’t know whether Doc thinks there’s a chance we might let him go, but when he starts talking next, he spills everything – enough to fill a notebook or more. I notice Saint has his phone out and is recording him.
