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“Just kill me already!” we hear shouted on the other side of the door. “Help, I need a doctor!”
“Got everything for the attorney we’ll need for this to go through?” I ask as Stone and I talk before entering one of our guest houses.
“Just need a signature,” Stone, our Prez, grunts. “Then a witness.”
The stench of death lingers and filters up into my nose as more dribble is spouted during our discussion. Our VIP guest has been hanging around for a few weeks.
“Shit, that smell is getting worse,” I comment the moment we crack the metal door open. “We oughta get something to spray or hang up to absorb it.”
“You getting soft on me, Reaper?” Stone taunts as we stare at Sutton’s sperm donor, who is tied up and only in his underwear.
My back goes straight and my shoulders roll backwards, “Never, Prez.”
A lot of shit has been happening in our club over the past twenty months. First, our feud with the Vipers, then with this fucking cult right under our noses. Now we’ve got the damn Colombian cartel leader wanting our heads on a silver platter for killing his only heir and putting a stop to his pipeline for his cocaine into our country.
“Just kill me,” Walter Meyers, the religious cult leader, whispers, gaining my attention.
“That would be too easy, Walt,” Stone says as he makes his way over to the reason behind the smell that permeates the room. The good shepherd has been getting a regular beating since being captured. He’s missing a few teeth and we keep one eye swollen shut. His body is riddled with discolored skin from where the guys have taken turns using him as their personal punching bag.
We’ve got him on ice until Havoc can leave Sutton’s side at the hospital. It only seems right that he helps end this miserable waste of space. She’s due to give birth in the next few days and we don’t want anything to interfere with her and the baby staying healthy and calm.
“What are you waiting for then?” he begs.
“Need you to sign a few documents for us and then we can maybe move things forward,” Stone coaxes as he turns to me. “Get something to wipe off his hands. Can’t file a dirty document at the courthouse.”
I start looking around the concrete room and find a water bucket. Reaching down, I swipe it up and toss all the contents at the man. He gasps in shock, having not seen it coming, and it crooks the side of my lip upwards. We’ve got this man so spooked. In my back pocket I’ve still got my auto shop rag so I grab it and start wiping his hands and fingers the best I can.
“Wh-what am I signing?” Walter asks, his voice trembling. “You’ll let me go if I sign those?” His voice sounds so hopeful I almost don’t have the heart to tell him that he’ll never see the light of day again. But then I remember what he did to Sutton and how this man played a role in our brother, Rocky, being murdered.
“Just sign,” Stone growls. He produces a thick stack of papers and black pen. Thank God Donald marked all the places that needed Walter’s signature or else this would’ve taken hours to go through.
After untying his right hand, it takes about ten minutes for all the blocks to be signed. Stone checks them all one more time to make sure we didn’t miss a single one.
“I-I want to see my daughter,” Walter weakishly demands after I cuff his writing hand back up.
“Oh, so now she’s your daughter? Weren’t you calling her a whore not too long ago. Or trying to marry her off to someone three times her age?” I bark.
“She-she wouldn’t want me to be like this—” he starts to say, but Stone rears back and punches the shit out of our guest. His head snaps to the left and he lets out a pitiful wail.
“You whipped her and left her in an underground vault for months. You don’t get to say how she’d want you to be treated,” Prez spits in his face, his anger rolling off him. I only wished I’d brought some popcorn down for the show.
The good shepherd cries like a little bitch as Stone takes a step back. Once Stone composes himself, he shakes his head.
“Thank you for signing those documents, Mr. Meyers. We will be sure to use that land and put everything on it, under it and around it to good use,” he says in a business-like tone.
“Land?” Walter questions as he sniffles.
“Yes, the three hundred acres and the church in town. I must say it was generous of you to gift it to us.”
“Wait! What? I didn’t gift…”
“Oh, but you did, I have it here in writing. But don’t worry, we’ll make sure that some of the profits from the pallets of cocaine that are stored underground will be given to Sutton. She declined wanting anything to do with your cult but I think it’s only fair, don’t you?”
“No, no you can’t. That all belongs to me! Juan José would never allow this,” he musters up enough energy to yell back at Stone.
“We can do whatever the fuck we want,” I say stepping up next to Stone. “You made a grave mistake running drugs in our town. Should’ve stuck with preaching the Bible instead of getting into bed with the cartel.”
“This won’t stand. When I get out of here no judge—”
