Trench
There was no way I heard Reaper correctly. We were holding a Fed, possibly a rogue Fed. Clutch and I walked in on the tail end of that fact-spill. Once Flex passed out, Reaper filled us in on the rest. Flex had been embedded with the Disciples for a couple years too long from the sounds of it. Talk about being fucked one hundred ways to Sunday. The Disciples. Pandemonium, and sure as shit, this agent.
Yet, none of this new information answered my questions. What was his interest in Tori? Was it all part of his act to keep tight with Preacher?
I had to hand it to Reaper. He was a fucking expert with computers. A rather well-hidden talent that most of the brothers were not privy to, but one that had aided us in the past. At Reaper’s request, Clutch and I had kept tight lips about his special skills, but any time we needed information, Reaper was our go-to guy.
After things went south last year with Katie, Reaper was worried the rest of the club might think he was involved in some way, especially if they knew he was a fucking hacker. It was no surprise his hiatus for the past year had severely hurt our resources so I was glad he rolled back into town when he did, but judging by the way he eyed Flex now, I wouldn’t bet money that the Fed was walking out of this. That would create a bigger problem for Pandemonium. Most of the scum we dealt with weren’t missed, but a federal agent, even a rogue one, would raise flags on every radar in our vicinity and that was attention we didn’t need.
“Hey, Reap. You good, brother?” Being the closest one to my height it was easy to look him in the eye and get a true read on him. I kept my tone calm and even, hoping to help Reaper rein in some of those still raw emotions.
“I’ll be better when this fucker’s lungs are full of dirt,” his eyes met mine with laser-focus.
“Understood, but before you have your dance with Flex, I’m going to need him to talk. Feel me? It would be a lot easier to get information from the living, brother.” I clapped one hand on his shoulder and raised my brow. “How about you let Clutch and I take a stab at this for a while? I could really use your help on another project.”
Sensing his frustration at being excluded from our interrogation, I produced the photograph of Tori’s mother. I twisted my body away from the others, handing the worn, yet still glossy material over to Reaper. The set of his shoulders seemed to ease in the slightest as he gave new focus to the image in front of him.
“What am I looking at?”
“Not sure exactly, but this lady,” I pointed, “Carmen Donohue, was married to Preacher after the picture was taken. She also happens to be Tori’s mom.” That peaked his interest. His brows furrowed as he regarded me and waited for more information I didn’t have. I shrugged. “That’s all I have right now, brother. That’s where you come in. I’d like to know more. I can’t figure out how a woman goes from hanging out with the old ladies of Pandemonium to suddenly playing house with the President of our biggest rival. Not to mention Pops protected Carmen. It doesn’t add up.”
He nodded. I could practically see the wheels turning in his mind.
“All right. I’ll see what I can find, but it comes at a price this time.” Reaper could joke around with the best of us, but there was no sign of humor as he spoke.
“Okay,” I crossed my arms as I waited for him to name his price.
Normally, a request like this would piss me off. All my guys were well-compensated for their membership and I gave special considerations to the men facing difficult times at home. We were a family and we took care of one another.
“I finish Flex.” Reaper peered over my shoulder, shooting a deadly glance in Flex’s direction.
“That can be arranged, my friend.”
***
“Grab the hose, Clutch.”
I stood a few feet away from Flex who was either still unconscious or a damn good actor. I supposed he could be pretending. After all, Flex had proven himself worthy of a fucking Oscar for the inside job he was pulling on Preacher all this time. I ran extensive background checks on all the brothers before they were ever allowed to prospect with my club. The selection process was rigorous. I could only imagine Preacher had similar safeguards in place. His shady operations put his club at greater risk of trouble with the law than our own.
Clutch grinned like a kid at Christmas, while Lo relieved the prospect of his current position and ordered him to watch the door outside instead. Lo reached over and turned the spigot in the wall, the obvious twitch and wind up of the hose the only other indicator that the cold water ran through. Clutch moved in front of Flex, adjusting the nozzle to a fine spray, making sure it would be painful when it hit. He looked back at me for the sign and I nodded.
Water blasted out of the hose and sprayed heavily against Flex’s face, leaving clear indentations of the pressure on his skin. He immediately woke and gasped for air, taking some of the stream into his open mouth and choking on the unexpected wash of fluid to the back of his throat.
“Wake up, sunshine,” Clutch goaded, while Flex twisted and fought harder against his restraints. I had been in his position once before and knew how helpless it could make a man feel. The horrifying sensation of drowning with no way to escape. Clutch moved the steady stream of cold water towards his jugular and laughed as Flex continued to fight for a breath of air. It was psychological. His nasal passage and throat were clear, but the overwhelming assault made him respond differently. It was easy to send a man into panic when they thought they couldn’t breathe.
Clutch slowly twisted the nozzle until the water stopped, the blood running down his chin in red rivulets onto his piece-of-shit cut. I found myself thankful once again for Lo’s bright idea to install a drain a few months back.
“Fuck you!” Flex spat up a mouthful of bloody phlegm and water near his feet.
“Fuck me?” I chuckled. This guy really did have a big set of balls. “I don’t think you’re in the position to fuck anything right now, Flex. My hospitality doesn’t extend to assholes that break into my compound and try to steal from me. The best thing you can do is tell me what I want to know and pray that I tell Reaper to show some mercy when he comes back. He wants to kill you slow.”
“You know why I’m here. Preacher sent me for the girl,” Flex tried to laugh through the pain. “I warned you and you didn’t listen.” My jaw ticked at the thought of Flex laying one finger on Tori, and suddenly, I didn’t feel so guilty about unleashing Reaper on his stupid ass. If Flex wasn’t careful I might be breaking my promise to Reaper in favor of strangling the bastard myself.
“I’m guessing Preacher doesn’t know who you are or you wouldn’t be above ground. That’s why you’re here, right? Tori found out on her own. I’m betting you let her escape so you could kill her without fear of blowback from Preacher and that piece of shit Enforcer of his.”
Flex took an unsteady breath, still coughing from the assault. “You don’t know shit, Trench. You only think you do.”
“Then enlighten me, asshole. Tell me why else you would risk your life to get to her first besides the fact that you’re a washed-up cop who knows his days are numbered if Tori ends up in Disciple hands again. Afraid she’ll use the information as a bargaining chip to save herself from Preacher, right? Or does she have something else you need even more than saving your own ass?”
“You’re fucking smarter than I gave you credit for, Trench. Too bad you haven’t figured this one out. If I talk, I’m dead. If I don’t -,” He huffed and winced.
“You’re dead either way, Flex. I would love nothing more than to watch you bleed out. Unfortunately, Reaper called dibs, but if you play your cards right I can make sure it’s quick and a lot less painful.”
Flex smiled, but remained silent. He was stronger than most of the men who crossed that threshold. I would give him that, but every man had a breaking point. It was just a matter of time before I found his weakness.
Until then, “Clutch, hit him again.”