Chapter Twelve #2
We follow her to one of the back rooms, Donny moaning as Stitch does what he does best: stitches him up.
He’s had every single one of us on his table, some of us more than others.
Saige leaves us to talk to him, which I appreciate.
It seems she subconsciously knows the deal without having to be told.
“How ya doing, buddy?” I ask. He’s a good guy and has been a bouncer for us for years here at Hell’s Asylum. I hate to see him injured, but he knows the risks of the job, especially with who the owners are.
“Stitches hurt more than the knife. I’ll be fine once he’s done sewing me up.”
Chaos nods before speaking. “What happened?”
“Five of ’em pulled up in a black, tinted-out SUV, broke in through the front door. No guns, just knives, screaming about needing to leave a message and for us not to get in their way. They didn’t seem to know how the fuck to do this, ’cause they sucked at it.”
“That’s what we saw, they were easy to take down. Would have kept them all alive if they hadn’t tried to fight us, not very smart.”
“Yeah, JoJo wasn’t about to let them rip the place down, so he engaged.” Donny’s eyes close in remorse, and I’m sure he’s feeling like shit watching his buddy bleed out on the floor from a fatal stab wound.
“We’ll handle the funeral expenses and contact his family. Anything else to note?”
“Just that they were leaving a message. Not sure what the fuck the message was other than trashing the business and killin’ JoJo. Sorry I’m not more help. Ouch! For fuck’s sake, are ya almost done?” Donny asks Stitch as he glares at him.
Chaos and I look to each other, both confused as fuck.
“They did a number on the place, it’s gonna cost a shit ton to get it cleaned up,” I tell him.
“Nothing we can do about it now. Have Wrath start pulling prospects to get them in here to start cleaning. When it’s ready to reopen, we’ll get more security. This never should have happened.”
I can’t help feeling like I’m missing something. The pieces just aren’t adding up. Why would some low-level street dumbasses come in here to leave us a message?
“Let’s go see the only breathing dumbass left and get some information from him. I want answers.”
Chaos touches Donny’s arm and nods before turning and walking out of the room next to me.
“What the fuck is this, brother?” Chaos asks, and I have absolutely no fucking idea.
We find everyone else on the main floor, Wrath barking out orders on the phone for a clean-up crew to get here. He pauses when he sees us coming. “Hey, he going to be okay?”
“Yeah, being a little bitch about the stitches, but who isn’t? Pretty sure Sin passed out the first time he got them,” Chaos answers like a prick.
“Oh, shut the fuck up,” I tell him, even though he’s right. I fucking hate needles. It’s taken me almost thirteen years to sit through all the goddamn tattoos I have. Only once have I not minded, and that’s my most recent one that just finished healing. The one right over my heart.
“Where are they?” Chaos asks him.
“Kitchen. Saige said she wanted someplace with drains.”
Chaos rumbles, turning and stomping off in the direction of his hellfire. “That fucking woman is gonna be the goddamn death of me,” he curses, running his fingers through the long hair that has escaped his ponytail.
I’m hot on his heels, and sure as shit, we find them all in the kitchen.
“Show me how you do it, is it like a slash right across or like ear to ear?” Malice asks Saige as they stand shoulder to shoulder with their arms crossed, looking at the moron currently tied up in a chair with his eyes darting between them.
It’s eerie how similar they can be when it comes to murder. His eyes bug out of his head as he thrashes and shakes. Pretty sure the fluid under his chair is his own piss. Definitely amateurs. This one should break easily enough.
Pity.
“Ear to ear, but it’s weird. I’ve actually never killed one tied up before. Seems a bit lackluster.”
“Yeah, anticlimactic?”
“Oh no, it is. Should we untie him? Make it a little more challenging?”
“Vixen,” Chaos barks. She turns slowly, her long black hair tied back in a messy braid, her dark, almond eyes practically glowing innocently as she looks at our president.
“Yes?”
“We need to have a little discussion with him before you and Malice get all stabby.”
Saige rolls her eyes, slapping her knife flat side into the palm of her hand. Chaos growls, walking up to her and gripping her waist hard, jerking her body into his. “Are you ever going to learn to listen?”
“It’s highly unlikely, Camden. But I know you like it.” He presses a kiss to her forehead, releasing his hold and taking his position between her and Malice. I join them, walking up to the man tied to the chair, his arm looking real rough.
“Arm looks like it hurts like a bitch. Was it worth it? Now I’m going to have to explain this bruise to someone important to me, and I don’t appreciate that very much. What’s your name?”
“Fuck you,” he says as he spits. I close my eyes slowly, letting the rage take over before standing and throwing a punch into his face with my right, then my left, using his head as a punching bag.
Blood sprays from his lips, mouth, and nose.
I stop just shy of leaving him unconscious.
Bastard. I shake out my hands at my sides before lifting the chin of his swelling face. “Try again. What’s your name?”
“T-tttrevor.”
I slap his cheek twice in praise. “Good boy, that wasn’t that hard, was it? Now tell me, Trevor, who hired you to come in here and fuck with our business?”
“I-I d-don’t know. We got paid a thousand dollars each. Told us to leave a message by destroying the place.”
“Are you in the habit of taking money and instructions from strangers, Trevor? Your mom would be disappointed. Didn’t you pay attention in school?”
“I really don’t know who it was.” His breathing is labored, coming in heavy pants as blood drips in a steady pour from his face.
“That’s disappointing. We have no reason to keep you alive, then. Malice, have your fun. Try not to make it too messy this time. I found an ear in the corner of the basement a few weeks ago. A prospect passed out and puked all over himself when I told him to clean it up.”
“Wh-what?” Trevor screams in horror.
“Oh, did you think you were just going to die? No, that’s not how we deal with people who fuck with us and hurt our people.
You’ll die slowly, painfully, in agony from your injuries.
Malice here has to teach Saige the art of torture.
You see, she’s really quick, kinda stabby, likes to just slit throats and call it a day.
But Malice? He’s an artist. He likes to take his time. ”
“I don’t know! I don’t know who it is! The job was posted on the web. We pick jobs for quick cash. This one seemed like an easy in and out, and no one has ever offered this much. I don’t know who it is.”
“See? Now we’re getting somewhere! Where on the web?”
“I’ll-I’ll show you! I’ll show you!” he quickly yells. I stand, holding my hands out in a flourish for Chaos, Malice, and Saige. “You’re welcome. Mal, can you get the info? I’ve got some shit to deal with.”
“Yep!” he yelps with a little excited jump. I take several steps toward the door when Chaos slaps a firm hand on the leather of my shoulder.
“Where are you headed?”
“Gotta see how bad the damage to my face is. Hands look like shit. Don’t want her to see me like this.”
“She’s off-limits, Sin.”
“You don’t call me that for no reason.” I wink before walking out, not willing to stay away from her for anything . . . not my president, not my club, not the law—divine or otherwise.
Now, how am I going to explain these injuries to Bristol without her being scared of me?