Chapter Thirteen

 

Maddox

 

“You can’t do this to me!” Mike yells at us, as Sax and I hold him down on the wooden chair and Reece ties his ankles to the legs and his hands through the slats behind his back.

“I think we just did,” Reece remarks before he comes around and stands in front of him. “Let him go, he’s not going anywhere,” he tells me.

I release my hold on his shoulders and heave a sigh of relief that this part is over. Sweat is dripping down my forehead and neck because dragging the asshole from the clubhouse to the salvage yard’s old garage, then holding him down while restraining him was hard work.

The big room is empty, except for oil and grease stains. The stale, automotive smell reminds me of my time training, also known as Reece whipping me into ass-kicking shape.

“Now,” Reece starts, “do you want to start talking, or do you want us to find new and creative ways to hurt you until you decide to talk?”

“Talk?” Mike asks. “I don’t know what you’re talking about.”

“Who is the contact PB in your phone?” Reece asks.

Yeah, we could’ve called the number to see who answers, but if we used Mike’s phone and didn’t say anything, they would worry he’s in trouble. And if we use another phone, even a burner, and then something unfortunate happens to Mike, it could come back on us. So, Reece is determined to make the man talk instead.

“Peanut Butter,” Mike answers. “He’s a friend of Jelly. Maybe you know him?”

“Hit him in his smart mouth for us, Maddox,” Sax instructs. I gladly haul my fist back and slam it into his mouth so hard his teeth cut his lips open and blood drips from them.

“We’re not playing games here, son.” Reece kneels down in front of Mike. “You want to try and be funny again, or do you want to start explaining who you’ve been texting since you got your prospect cut. You give us some answers, maybe we’ll let you walk out of here alive.”

“I’m not scared of you,” Mike says. He’s clearly an idiot who doesn’t know Reece like I do.

“Tool time?” Sax asks Reece.

“Maddox, go get them from the van,” Reece says, tipping his head toward the door. I head out and grab his toolbox from the van, curious to see what’s inside.

Before I pick up the oversized toolbox, I flip the tabs to open it up to see what implements Reece has packed. I’m not sure if I’m disappointed or relieved when I give the tools a quick shuffle, revealing only mundane pliers, wrenches, and clamps. Other than the propane blowtorch, none of it looks particularly intimidating.

When I get back to the room where Mike is being restrained, I set the toolbox on a table and then step away as Reece comes over and flips open the lid.

“All right, gentlemen, let’s get to work,” Reece says. Turning back to Mike, he asks conversationally, “You ever seen that show on HBO, Game of Thrones?”

I haven’t seen the show, but for some reason, the comment causes Mike to start trembling violently. He takes a deep breath to steady himself, then says, “Yeah, I’ve seen it. Read the books too.”

“Oh shit, look at this literate motherfucker!” Reece laughs. “That’s good, that’s really good. You’ve got some idea then, of the things I can do to you. Things that won’t kill you, but will make you…different. Some might even say, unrecognizable. Now, are you sure you don’t have anything you want to tell me before we get started?” As Reece was talking, I watched him slip a pair of needle-nosed pliers into the back pocket of his jeans, before walking to stand behind Mike’s chair.

Mike hangs his head but doesn’t say anything in reply as Reece crouches down behind him. “All right, then. Time to get medieval and all that. We’ll start by destroying things that might grow back, if you live long enough.”

I can’t see what Reece is doing behind the chair where Mike’s hands are tied, but I think I understand when his head suddenly jerks up and he lets out a long gargling scream. Sure enough, Reece pops up holding the pliers, with one ragged fingernail gripped tightly at the tip.

“You say something, champ?” Reece asks when Mike’s scream dissolves into a gasping sob. “Anything at all you want to get off your chest?” he asks again, dropping the fingernail on Mike’s lap. “No? Ok then, back to work I go. Remember now, you can stop me anytime,” he adds as he crouches behind the chair.

I have seen some shit in my life, but the next few minutes of watching Reece work on Mike will be burned in my memory forever. He works methodically, and every few seconds, another fingernail joins the growing pile on Mike’s lap. After what seems like an eternity but could only have been a couple of minutes, Reece stands up and walks around the front of the chair, then sits down cross-legged in front of his victim.

“All done back there!” he says cheerfully, pulling a shop rag out of his pocket to wipe his pliers. “You sure you don’t want to tell me more about your friend ‘Peanut Butter’ before I start working on these little piggies down here?”

Mike is still conscious, gasping and wheezing as Reece begins untying his boots. It takes him a minute to get them off of Mike since he’s tied so tightly to the chair. “Still holding out on me? All right then.” Reece chuckles, bending down to begin working on the feet.

I look over to Sax, who I notice is looking pale as his trembling hands light a cigarette. “You mind if I get one of those from you?” I ask him.

“Didn’t know you smoked,” he says, as he passes me the pack of Marlboros and his lighter.

“I don’t,” I reply grimly. “Shit like this will make a man want to start.”

“Shit like this will drive a man fucking insane.” Sax shudders. “That boy screams like a wildcat getting fucked with a drill.”

“Don’t give Reece any ideas,” I mutter.

We both walk away as we smoke, circling back around once we’ve thrown the butts out into the yard. By that time, Reece is back over at his toolbox, cleaning his pliers, and Mike is slumped over, noisily sobbing into his own lap.

“Think I almost had him,” Reece idly comments as we approach.

“Yeah? What did he finally say?” I ask him.

“He started muttering that we’ll kill him if he tells us, he knows we will. I tried to reassure him, and told him I would eventually kill him anyway, but I think he started passing out. Sax, go run a bucket of water from the hose outside and dump it on him. Let’s perk him up and see if he’s ready to give this up.”

“Ok,” Sax agrees, jogging outside.

“What could he have done that’s so bad he thinks we’ll kill him over it?” I wonder aloud.

“That’s the meat of it, isn’t it?” Reece replies. “He obviously thinks he’s done something so terrible it’s worth all this, or maybe he’s protecting something. Either way, Phase Two will loosen his lips. No one gets past Phase Two.”

“Do I even want to know what ‘Phase Two’ is?” I ask with a raised eyebrow.

“You never want to find out, no.” Reece sighs. “Looks like we might not have a choice, though.”

Sax returns, lugging a five-gallon bucket, sloshing over with water. He walks up behind Mike and unceremoniously dumps the entire thing over him, drawing another horrified screech from the traitorous prospect.

“Shut up,” Reece barks at him. “You’re fine, you fucking pussy.” Walking over to him, he slaps Mike gently on both cheeks, then grabs him by the chin to jerk his head up. “You ready to talk now, or do you want this to keep going?”

“I can’t.” Mike gasps. “You’re going to kill me. It dies with me, it’ll be over. Just get on with it.”

“Now that’s a bad attitude to have,” Reece says as he scrubs a hand through Mike’s damp hair. “I told you before you can get out of this alive if you just cooperate with me. Come on, spit it out and let’s put all this behind us, Mike.”

“I told you, I can’t. I know you’re full of shit. If I tell you anything, I’m dead. Do whatever you have to do.”

Reece sighs, his expression looking, for all the world, like a father disappointed in an unruly child. “All right, then. For the next phase, we’re going to take care of those wounds on your hands and feet. We don’t want them becoming infected, so we’re going to go ahead and cauterize them.”

“What?” Mike gasps, which is exactly how I feel.

Reece digs in his toolbox and brings out the propane torch, twisting the valve and then clicking the trigger. He makes a great show of adjusting the flame as he walks back to Mike, then once again crouches down in front of him. “You sure about this, kid?” Reece whispers.

Mike just hangs his head, refusing to make eye contact with him. Before Reece can begin, I turn my back, digging another cigarette out of Sax’s pack.

“Good idea,” Sax whispers beside me as the screams begin from behind us. “Want to head out into the yard?”

“Yeah, man, let’s…let’s give them some space,” I say shakily, as the first whiff of burning meat washes over us.

Once we’re outside, Sax takes a deep drag on his cigarette and says, “This ain’t my favorite part of this gig, you know.”

“None of us like it,” I agree, “but he’s done something, and if he ratted us out somehow to the feds, well…this is what happens to rats.”

“I hope he is a rat,” Sax says fiercely. “I hope to god he is, so…so I can justify all this. We’ve all got secrets, man, things we don’t want people to know. I hope he’s not trying to hide something stupid, and he really did something worth all this.”

“That’s a weird way to look at it, but yeah, I get it,” I reply. Shit, how much torture would I take to keep my secret with Audrey away from War? Should I even keep it a secret? God, I wish I had a reason to see her, any reason that didn’t make me look like a pussy-whipped bitch.

“You say something?” Sax asks me.

“Huh?” I cough, choking on the cigarette smoke. “Shit, sorry, man, just talking to myself.”

“Thought I heard you say ‘pussy-whipped bitch.’” Sax laughs. “That is what he sounds like in there, isn’t it?”

I nod in agreement, not wanting to tell him that no, it’s what I feel like, out here. We both light up another cigarette and stay outside, until Reece steps out and joins us a few minutes later. Uncharacteristically, he lights up a smoke too, and stands there with us in silence for a moment.

“All right,” Reece finally huffs. “We’re done for the night.”

“We are?” I ask.

“For today, right? Doesn’t sound like he told you anything,” Sax says.

“Seriously?” I ask. “He still hasn’t told you shit?”  

“We’re going to try another approach. We’ll leave him here for a few days without food and water. Eventually, he’ll crack when the choice is talk or die,” Reece replies.

“Days?” I repeat.

“Yeah, days, son,” Reece says. “Hunger and thirst can break a man when nothing else will. You’re on first watch. Make sure he doesn’t leave. That’s your one and only job until we come back.”

“Okay,” I agree.

Looks like I won’t be getting any sleep tonight.