27. Chapter Twenty-Seven
Chapter Twenty-Seven
Bear
“ W ait!” Psycho freezes the instant I slam my big hand against the door to the basement. When we take people down there, chances are slim to none that they walk out. “Are we sure about this?”
“I don’t wanna be, if that’s what you’re askin’.” That same cloud that darkens Psycho’s gaze, I can feel it in my gut. Nothing about this feels good, but our job is to protect the club and the people we love.
In fact, I should kill that fucker just because he interrupted some serious cuddle time with Athena. Leaving her all wrapped up in my sheets and comforter was the hardest thing I’ve had to do in a long time. Maybe ever. I just wanna get this shit over with and go back to my girl.
“What proof do we got?” I can’t kill a brother without some solid fucking intel.
“For starters, someone saw him leave seconds after you and Athena went for fresh air.”
I scoff. That’s hardly proof that he tried to have us killed.
“Maybe he needed to take a piss.” I state the obvious and Psycho nods like he’d argued the same thing at first.
“That’s what I was thinking, could have taken a piss outside for all we know. Except, you would have seen him, right?” Psycho raises a brow, like his argument is flawless.
“To be honest, a tornado could’ve gone past I probably wouldn’t’ve noticed.” Ain’t that the truth?
“Bear. He showed up after everyone else but looked like he'd been close enough to the explosion to get dust and shit all over him.” Okay, that’s weird, but maybe he was coming back from somewhere, like… takin’ a piss. Or maybe he was fucking a Khunt somewhere.
“It’s weak at best. That ain’t enough proof to end a brother. It just ain’t.” Crossing my arms over my chest, I frown down at Psycho, footsteps sounding behind us. When I look over my shoulder I notice the scowl on our president’s face. That can’t be good.
“Sledge was suspicious because of what Ophelia and Jarrett said on the plane so he questioned him. Took his phone.” Psycho barely acknowledges Hoops as he joins us, too consumed by the fuckery of it all. If the traitor is still down there then that means they found something rock solid.
Hoops clears his throat. “I got a call from your new friend Ophelia and spoke with Caliope, the tech diosa . That’s how she refers to herself, by the way.” Slicing a glare filled with rage and regret toward the door leading to the basement, he continues. “Once the idea of a rat was out there, Caliope did a deep dive and found two offshore bank accounts. Now, that could just be him putting money away but those deposit dates were awfully close to shit happening in our club and the amounts didn’t correspond to anything we divvied up from our earnings.” He takes a breath, pushing his hands into the pockets of his jeans and delivers the final blow. His rage morphs into deep-rooted sadness for just a brief moment, then it’s gone. “She traced the money back to an account in Texas. Guy’s name is Adrien Crawford and the woman your friends took when you found Athena sang like a fucking bird. She confirmed he was part of The Firm.”
“I’m gonna kill that motherfucker.” I speak so low I’m surprised anyone hears me.
“You’ll get the honors, but I wanna get a good punch in. I’m the enforcer, after all.” Crazy fucker.
“Don’t worry, brothers, he’ll get what’s coming to him.” Hoops nods toward the door behind us, giving us the go ahead.
With a shrug, Psycho opens it and we jog down the cement stairs until I see my brother—my chosen family—sitting on a chair with his arms tied behind his back, his legs spread open and his chin set high, like he’s proud to be here.
My sights are square on Diablo, his cut laid out on the nearby table with his patch gone and cut into pieces. We all spread out, joining our VP, who is leaning against the side wall with a straight-up murderous glare on his face. I can do whatever I want to him, no one will stop me.
“You wanted to kill me?” My question is a low growl, but when I think about Athena waking up terrified, her eyes glazed over like she didn’t know what the fuck was happening, a surge of pure, unfiltered rage rushes through my bloodstream. “Well here I am, motherfucker.” This time, I can barely hear myself roaring the words out because of the whoosh, whoosh, whoosh ing in my ears.
For a beat, it’s like I’m watching myself from outside my body as I lunge forward and wrap my fingers around Diablo’s throat, the power of my movements forcing the chair to scrape along the cement floor until the cinder block wall stops us. I crave the fear in his eyes, I want more of it. I want to hurt him tenfold. No, hundredfold. I want to kill him with my bare hands.
With my face mere inches from his, I speak through clenched teeth. “You know what we do to traitors?”
“I ain’t no traitor.” His answer disgusts me. Real men don’t fucking lie. Leaning back just a little, I scrape my phlegm from the back of my throat and spit all over his face.
“You’re a fucking coward.” I say, wiping my lips with the back of my hand.
“Nah, brother .” He uses our sacred word like a curse. “I’ve been loyal to The Firm. I ain’t no traitor.” The silence that falls on us is deafening.
Just then, a phone rings.
“Yeah?” Psycho answers, but I don’t want to take my eyes off Diablo. How did we get him so fucking wrong? “Did she describe him?” Psycho puts the phone on speaker and Ophelia’s voice rings through.
“—she said he was tall, black hair with a permanent five-o’clock shadow—” As Ophelia gives the description of Diablo, my eyes dart to every part of him she mentions. On fucking point. “—something about his club name being the devil or something. I don’t know. She was rambling by this point. I got to use new toys on her and they’re not made for pleasure.”
“Did someone say toys?” Fucking Grinder. It’s like he has a sixth sense when it comes to grand entrances. “Cause I brought a few of my own.”
“Hi, Grinder!” Ophelia calls out over the speaker phone like they’ve been friends their whole lives. Not much gets me, but an assassin buddying up with a man who has zero boundaries? That scares the bejesus outta me.
Because I’m still staring at Diablo, I notice the momentary fear cross his features and I don’t blame him. He’s seen Grinder’s work first hand.
“How ya doin’, pretty lady?” Grinder lays on the southern drawl as thick as molasses but all of that is stopped at the sound of Jarrett’s booming voice.
“Call her that again, I’ll slit ya from top to bottom.”
I’m guessing Grinder just rolls his eyes. Not much fazes him these days. Or ever.
“Calm down, big boy. I wouldn’t dream of leaving you out of game night.” That fucker’s gonna get us all killed.
“Wanker.” The line dies and, with it, the chance of gleaning any more information. Although, we don’t really need more than we already have.
“Diablo. The devil.” Hoops speaks, disappointment dripping from his tone. “Why’d ya do it? How long?”
That traitor’s eyes dart from me to Grinder to Hoops and back to Grinder. Smart kid, I wouldn’t let Grinder out of my sights, either.
“The whole time. I was sent here to prospect way back when, before the girl was even a blip on The Firm’s radar Created a backstory that wouldn’t raise any flags and made sure to keep them informed about the drugs. The club needed to keep their noses out of their business.” At the sound of this, I turn around and grit my teeth so fucking hard, I’m pretty sure I chipped a molar. “They got lucky with the girl showing up here of all places but then, she was chipped so it made it even easier to get her back home.”
Oh, that piece of shit did not just say that.
Like a tornado, I whirl around and land my first punch, then my second. By the third, Diablo is bleeding all over himself and my fist. His nose is definitely broken and my knuckles aren’t feeling pretty, that’s for damn sure.
“You will never speak of her again. Don’t even think of her. And if you call that hell hole her home again, I’ll rip your balls off with my bare hands and let Grinder fuck them down your throat.” I’m panting when I step back, the urge to inflict more pain on him is stronger than anything else.
“The whole fuckin’ time. Well, that’s just fuckin’ great.” Sledge is pacing, no doubt his mind is reeling like the rest of us. If I go back to when he was a prospect, that means he was working in the background, playing us like a fucking chess game.
“The drugs?” Psycho asks, brow furrowed and head cocked to the side.
“Yup.” Diablo spits out the blood from his nose and mouth, one eye on Grinder, who’s placing his toolbox on the table and rummaging through his… toys.
“Holy fucking shit. Wait a second…” We all look at Hoops as he leans away from the wall and stands to his full height, lips in a thin line and fists clenched hard enough to make his knuckles turn white. “Python?”
“That was almost too fuckin’ easy. He got nosy, needed to be dealt with, so I used his addiction against him.”
From out of nowhere, Grinder swings a wrench like a backhand and strikes Diablo across the jaw, two teeth flying out all covered in blood and spit.
“You watch your dirty fuckin’ mouth when you talk about Python.” Grinder loved that kid. Hell, we all did. Especially Prez.
Then it hits me, the weight of it making it hard to breathe.
“Prez?” Hoops turns at my word, realization contorting his features into an expression of complete and utter agony.
Diablo shrugs like it’s a given. “I didn’t kill him but I called in sayin’ y’all were distracted and easy pickin’. Couldn’t blow my cov—” This time it’s Hoops going in, punching Diablo until his head begins to loll from one side to the other, blood running down his cheeks and neck and all over his shirt and jeans.
The number of times this guy had a hand in hurting our club.
Grinder walks up to him and slaps him awake just so he can show him the next toy he’s gonna use on him. Diablo doesn’t care, it’s like he’s asking for more punishment and his next words almost make his death wish come true.
“The most fun I had was handing Mac over to The Firm. Beaufort’s son wanted to sink his dick in—” I step aside and allow Psycho to go in. He kicks Diablo in the chest hard enough that he falls over onto the floor, still attached to his chair and curled up on his side. Then he just rails on him, kicking his ribs, his gut. Grinder hands him a hammer and the sound of Diablo’s screams as Psycho shreds his kneecaps is fucking music to my ears.
After a while, I grab him around the chest and pull him back. My best friend is panting and shaking, his adrenaline almost palpable. “You promised me the end game.”
With a grunt, Psycho shakes out of my hold and kicks Diablo one more time in the mouth, sending a few more teeth skittering across the floor. Soon, he won’t be able to speak properly.
“Let’s wrap this up. We still have no word from Shade and I don’t like it. He wasn’t in the garage, the firefighters told me as much, but that doesn’t mean this motherfucker didn’t do something to him.” We all look down at Diablo and I decide it’s worth a shot. I mean, it’s not like it was hard to make him talk. He doesn’t want to walk out of here because if he does, The Firm will finish our job and probably take out his entire family while they’re at it.
Crouching down to where he’s fighting for every one of his breaths, I grab him by the back of the head and pull him back so he’s upright on the chair.
“Look at me.” Diablo opens his eye, the one not swollen shut, fading in and out of consciousness. “Where’s Shade?”
“Fuck if I know.” His words are mostly garbled but I can make them out.
“Did you see him before you planted the explosives?” I pull on his hair to wake him up again.
“Never saw him.” Without letting go of him, I look up at Hoops, who nods.
“Blowtorch.” A hand extended to the side, I wait for Grinder to give me what I want.
“Why d’you get to have all the fun?” I ignore my brother and his frightening desire for torture and grab hold of the blowtorch. When I turn it on, the image of Athena rising from the ashes of this whole fucking nightmare makes me stand a little taller. Feel a little stronger.
“While you sit here and smell your flesh burning to the point of losing your fucking mind, I want you to think about every life you had a hand in ending. Then, I want you to think about your biggest mistakes.” As soon as the flame grazes Diablo’s neck, he screams from deep down in his gut. “Betraying us for those sick fucks. Handing over Mac to those sick fucks. Working for those sick fucks.” The flame travels across his collarbone and down one arm as his screams turn to wails.
I play with him until he passes out from the pain then grab a knife and stab him in the thigh, right where his artery gushes like Ol’ fucking Faithful and we know it’s only a matter of minutes before he bleeds out. Speeding up our movements, I hand the knife to Grinder, who stabs him in the gut, pulling up just enough to open up his stomach. When it’s Psycho’s turn, he goes straight for the guy’s balls, which wakes him up real quick just to find out that they’ve been disconnected from his body.
Hands dripping with blood, Psycho skewers both balls and holds them up in the air for me to… Jesus Christ, he is fucking insane.
Holding up the blowtorch, I basically cook those fuckers and watch, with bile rising from my gut, as Psycho stuffs them in Diablo’s mouth.
“Bon appetit, you vile piece of shit.” We fist bump, the blood that covered Psycho’s hands now staining mine.
When my best friend hands the knife to Sledge, we all chuckle at our favorite Brit’s words. “Kinda hard to beat that, innit?”
Except Sledge is just as crazy as the rest of them and it shows when he brings the knife to Diablo’s eye and cuts the thing right out of its socket. Dude tries to scream but can’t because he’s literally choking on his own balls, blood and saliva dripping from his mouth.
Once Sledge has the eyeball in hand, he volleys it to Grinder, basically giving him a boner.
“This will be great for my collection.” Half the shit Grinder says scares the fuck outta me.
The final blow is for our president, who looks Diablo right in his one good eye and gives him his parting words.
“Filth like you doesn’t get to live. See you in Hell, motherfucker.” Then he slices Diablo’s throat from one ear to the other as we all watch the blood drain from his body. We were quick, not wanting him to have the mercy of bleeding out, and made sure he knew what was happening to him.
I don’t know how long we stand there, but somehow, it’s cathartic, like we’re honoring our dead.
Until, that is, Athena’s face comes to mind and I grin. “Time to see my woman.”