“We need you.”
Cut’s standing in the shop watching me tighten down the engine to a bike we had built as a custom. Nothing has been officially announced with our new partnership, but the orders and the money have started to roll in. Ryder went back home a little while ago to finish his homework, and I knew I had shit to finish before I called it a night.
“What do you need?” I grit out as I use my weight to tighten down the last bolt by hand before I use the impact.
“It’s the fucking Vegas crew. Shit still ain’t right, and I’m getting sick of these people not talking.”
“This shit is taking far too long. You should have handled this catch months ago.”
“This isn’t small time shit, Lick. These guys make a career outta hiding.”
“No shit.”
“Listen, smart ass, I need you in the backroom of the clubhouse.”
“Wait, you brought that shit on home turf? Are you fucking kidding me?”
“Cruise brought him in. It wasn’t my choice.”
“Of course, that fucker did it.”
Shaking my head, I stand and leave the bike for later. All the years we’ve been doing this shit, we’ve never brought any of our catches or any of the people who’ve helped us catch on Fury property. We’re supposed to keep our bounty side off of club grounds. We make sure the two never intertwine because if they do, it could be bad for both sides.
This is leading to trouble.
“He had his head covered,” Cut says from behind me.
“Oh, well that bit of news gives me the warm and fuzzies,” I say as I stomp through the dirt, making my way to the storage area of the building.
Walking into the storage room of the clubhouse, I see that fucker Cruise standing next to a man tied to a plastic chair, still wearing a black fucking pillowcase over his head. My eyes roll at the immaturity of the situation.
“You’ve got to be kidding me.”
Cruise looks pleased with himself, but little does he know that he’s a fucking amateur playing with the big boys. “What?” he questions.
“First off, fuck face, you never shit where you sleep.” Kicking the leg of the plastic chair, I use enough force to break it causing the scumbag to land on his side. His groans are mumbled from behind the fucking bed sheet. “Meaning, you don’t bring shit home.”
“Well, he didn’t know it was home before you opened your big mouth.”
I shake my head. “And plastic? You need them secure. Plastic breaks.” I kick the broken leg. “Exhibit A.”
“What the fuck ever! I don’t know why you’re even here, Lick. I got this.”
“Evidently, you don’t, or I wouldn’t be here. Now, bring Daddy a metal chair.”
Cruise listens without another word. Once I place the fucker back in the chair and make sure he’s tied and not going anywhere, I begin to have my fun.
“Fuck you,” he spits in my face.
The fact that he no longer has any front teeth and his lip is pretty much a meaty piece of flesh hanging from his face has his ability to spit turning into more of a spray. I’m sure there’s a mixture of blood, snot, and salvia dripping down my face, but I don’t give a shit. It’s been far too long for this type of release.
Like always, I picture all the bastards who took from me. My mother, she’s always in the forefront of my mind, and of course, Teddy. Now there’s this other fucker who’s trying to take from me, and I can’t allow that. This time it isn’t about anything sexual either. It’s about those kids and the possibility of them being taken from me.
I can’t have that.
“I have to say, you’re a tough one.” I’m leaning into him, pushing my thumbs into holes that I’ve carved into his forearms between the radius and the ulna. I know I hit the bone a couple of times. That’s what happens when you don’t get to use your knives as often as you’d like. They tend to become dull.
My hands are covered in his blood, warm to the touch, welcoming. “I’ve run outta patience,” I tell him. “The smell of your blood is no longer exciting, so I’ve got to cut this short. Places to go and all.”
One more push into his flesh as he tightens his eyes in agony. I’d be shocked if this piece of shit’s mother will be able to identify his body. He’s more broken than Humpty Fucking Dumpty.
When I cut my eyes to Cruise, I give him a nod. For once we’re on the same wavelength. He steps forward and takes the fuckers head in his hands. Tilting his head back, he keeps it steady.
“Now, I need a location. We already know the prick’s name, and what he looks like. But you see, Vegas tends to be tight-lipped when it comes to outsiders, so we ain’t getting shit. Just a location, nothing more.”
I slip my bloody thumbs into the bottom of his eyes. I know it hurts like a mother fucker, and his constant moans beneath his gag tell me I’m not wrong. If I apply enough pressure, I can pop his eyeballs out. Maybe even sever them from the optical cord making him blind and broken. I can feel the loosening of his eyeball within the eye socket, and my cock hardens.
Fuck, the suffering and pain is such a turn on.
I can hear him trying to talk between the screams and moans. Pulling my thumbs from his eyes, I rip away the gag.
“I’ll tell you,” he rasps, and I know my job here is down.
“You got it from here,” I tell Cruise as I walk out, ready to get the fuck home.