Page 51 of Sweet Revenge for the Bikers

Like with them is where I belong.

26

MAD DOG

Forty-eight hours are up.

“Alright, smile for the camera!” Riptide drops Killjoy into a shitty metal folding chair, holding him in place while Rebel secures his wrists to the frame with handcuffs.

Rebel’s face twists in disgust. “Fuck, ever heard of a shower?”

The glare he gets in return makes me think there’s some fight left in him, but then he breaks eye contact right away, defeated. Pussy. We only roughed him up a little. We didn’t even make him sit in his shit clothes. He just didn’t get the princess treatment Melody did during her visit to the Pit.

Fuck, I still feel a little bad about us tossing her in there, but it was necessary at the time. By now she knows how dangerous having the wrong information can be for us. Hopefully we’re doing a good enough job making it up to her.

I grin to myself, probably looking a little more insane than usual. I don’t give a fuck. Anything that gets us closer to bringing this to a close is cool with me.

Eagle-eye steps into the Pit with a cup of coffee in one hand and his laptop in the other. King is on his heels. Just another boring conference call in the office. “Let’s get this party started, boys.”

We set up the laptop so there’ll be a clear view of Killjoy and his situation. Eagle-eye fiddles with the settings to make sure everyone’s in place, then taps a key to connect.

Rebel kneels next to our unfortunate visitor, pulls out his piece, and points it right at the fucker’s head. Even through his gag, a muffled whimper escapes. Rocco doesn’t seem like a subtle hints sort of guy, so it’s time to make it painfully obvious what the fucking stakes are. The laptop plays a little melody while it waits for someone to pick up on the other end.

“Maybe he doesn’t wanna talk?” King shrugs.

Riptide shrugs. “We can always just drop this guy off at the gate like we did the other one. Has anyone hosed down the van yet? It was pretty ripe in there by the time we got back.”

Killjoy mumbles through the gag, but none of us fucking care.

To the hostage’s great relief, Rocco finally answers. “Eagle-eye,” he says gruffly, and then his eyes widen as he takes in the sight of the hostage. “What the fuck, man? You don’t gotta do this.”

“You’re right,” Eagle-eye says. “We could’ve avoided all of this if you’d just cooperated like a normal fucking human being, but here we are. I’m disappointed, Rocco. Did you need more time to come up with a better story? I’ll give it to you, but I’m not sure your man here wants to pay the price.”

“Wait! Fuck. I was gonna call you today, okay? Let the poor kid live. All he’s done is follow orders. Jesus Christ.”

“Did you think I didn’t fucking mean forty-eight hours when I said it? I know we haven’t dealt much with each other before, but I like to think my reputation precedes me here. No one fucks with the Eagles, and there’s a reason for that. I’m doing my humanitarian duty with this courtesy call, so give my cleaning lady a break. She’s getting pretty fucking tired of cleaning brains off my office carpet.” Eagle-eye crosses his arms over his barrel chest and glares at the screen. Standing up like he is, he probably looks fucking ten feet tall.

Rocco gestures at his screen and talks to someone off camera. “Pull it back a little. We can’t fucking see anything. Go bring Joker.”

Joker? Melody’s dad?

What the fuck? Did Rocco find out we’ve been in contact with him? Or has he been double crossing us the whole time?

The view expands as someone moves the camera back. On Rocco’s left is a grizzled biker with stringy black hair under a beat-up Stetson. His eyes are sharp, though, and he’s watching us intently. He’s got a VP patch on the chest under the club logo, and his name patch reads “Clutch.” First time we’ve seen him. It’s good to put a face to the name.

Interesting.

I keep my face neutral as a man is shoved into view with a cloth bag over his head. His hands are cuffed behind his back, and from the way he’s moving, his ankles might be, too. Looks like a fucking terrorist hostage. What the hell is going on? Even trussed up, he’s standing straight.

I can’t keep my mouth shut. “What the fuck is this? Halloween?”

Both Rocco and Clutch glare at me. Eagle-eye shrugs. “You heard the man. What are you trying to pull here? I’m not in the fucking mood for theatrics.”

“Just playing it safe.” Rocco sneers at the hooded figure. “I had some conflicting information and it took a minute to get to the bottom of things. Didn’t want to have a repeat of our last conversation, if you get me.”

Clutch nods next to him. “You better fucking appreciate this, because it’s not easy. Still figuring out who his supporters are, but for now, we’ve got the ringleader.” His voice hints at a lot of packs smoked over the course of his life.

“Maybe I should thank you,” Rocco says, taking over again. “Red was an easy scapegoat, but if we hadn’t kept digging, we wouldn’t have found the snake in the grass. It’s always the dagger kept closest to your heart you gotta watch out for.” He grins without humor and puts a hand on the shoulder of his captive.