Chapter 30
Thirty
Carver stood in the center of the warehouse, arms folded as he looked at the man strapped to the chair before him. It was one of his Angels. A man named Gator. Someone he had trusted. Someone he thought was going to be one of his brothers until the end.
Gator stared back with wide eyes. He had tape covering his mouth. His arms and legs were bound so that he couldn't move.
"You're sure it was him?” Carver asked Trix.
They hadn't hurt Gator yet. Had only pulled him out of the club and brought him to one of the secluded industrial buildings to work him over.
But if Trix confirmed it, then it had to be so.
Trix made a noise, then said, "Unfortunately so, Boss.
It was him who signed off on everything each time, and I even checked his personal accounts.
He was depositing those exact amounts on the days that he should have been putting them in the bank.
It's all fucked up, but apparently, he had a gambling problem none of us picked up on. "
"Gambling?" Carver asked.
Slash grunted. “A lot of other shit you can do with money besides gambling. Hell, I'd be less upset if it were spending money on pussy. Instead, he's ruined his life over slot machines and poker tables.”
"It wasn't slot machines," Trix interrupted.
Carver and Slash turned to face him.
Carver asked, "Then what was it?"
Trix shoved his hands in his pockets and rocked back and forth on his heels. “He was gambling with other guys for a shot with their girlfriends. Girls who didn’t know they were being offered up, Boss.”
It felt as if the room dropped several degrees with the way Carver reacted. His body tightened, and his stare turned to ice as he scowled at Gator. He didn't have to remove the tape. Didn't have to hear his pleas for mercy to know that the man was guilty.
It was all right there, clear as day on his face. He'd been caught. After years of stealing from the club, his actions were finally given consequence.
Carver turned to Slash. "Go get the others."
Slash jogged away, phone in hand. He and Carver had prepared to bring everyone from the club over to witness what was going to be done to Gator. It had been a long time since Carver had had to be The Butcher at home. A long time since he had to make sure his men knew he meant business.
He was being given the chance now, and Carver felt like it was time to prove a point. He had to remind them all that he was not anyone to be played with.
This club and this family was a place where you were loyal. Anything less earned you a one-way ticket to the grave.
It took a few minutes for the sound of motorcycles to reach him. His men had arrived.
Carver looked at Trix, then at Gator. "Get the plastic, grab the hose. I want everything ready so that cleanup is simple."
Once Trix stepped away, Carver walked around Gator slowly, taking in his features. This was a man he lived with. A man he had given an opportunity to. A man who he considered family.
But Carver didn't care if it was blood or by choice. When someone fucked up, they had to deal with it.
He leaned down once he was back in front of the man, hands to his knees as he focused on his face. In a calm tone he said, "You know you really fucked up. I've been itching for a fight. I've got all this aggression…”
His lips tipped up into a smirk.
“I was even too scared to go at it with Silver.
You know he's my sparring partner. Good guy.
Love him to pieces. But if we got in the ring together, I'd have killed him.
I knew that, deep in my bones. I had nothing else to let my feelings out on, so I held it in.
I balled it up. I've let it build and build, and now here you are, like a gift from the universe. You know what that means, don't you?”
Carver reached one hand out and smacked the guy on the side of the face.
“That means this is going to hurt a lot more than it would have.
You could have come to me. Could have said you wanted to work more, make some money.
You could have asked to leave the Angels, go on your way and do something else.
Instead, you lied, you cheated, you stole, and you put money into something as sick as you did. There's no other choice.”
Carver stood, then turned around to face the men behind him. He had no reason to worry about the man strapped to the chair. Even if he tried to jolt his body, he couldn't hurt Carver. He knew because he had tied the ropes himself.
His men were standing there, surrounding them with curious looks. Carver took a step forward and held his arms wide.
"Welcome, Angels. Today we have a special show for you." His voice echoed, booming through the cavernous space. The men looked from him to Gator and back.
A few had obviously picked up on what this was. Some, especially the probies, who had just turned full Angels in the last week, were confused.
Carver turned and pointed towards Gator. “This piece of shit right here stole from our club. He took money that didn't belong to him and used it for his own purposes. I won't go into all the details of it, but we traced it back to him. And now he has to meet the consequences.”
Slayer stepped forward. He crossed his arms, and Carver dipped his head to say he could go ahead and speak. "Do you need a hand, Boss? It sounds like fun."
Carver let his expression show the anger he felt. He let the mask that he had put on to contain his rage fall.
The second it did, Slayer stepped back with hands raised. "Looks like you've got it."
Some of the men blanched, not fully aware how dark their boss could be.
Carver spoke again, voice strong and clear as he said, "You all will say what you want about me after this, but it is in your best interest to see that your president is an effective leader.
I will dish out justice where I see fit.
Today I'm going to beat this piece of shit until he is with us no more.
And you're going to watch. You're going to learn why they call me The Butcher. "
Carver held his hand out in the direction he knew Trix would be standing. A meat cleaver was placed in his hand. Then an apron was swung over his head, and he felt the straps being tied behind his back.
Trix clapped him on the shoulder whispering, "Have fun!" before he giggled and skipped away to stand with the other men.
When Carver turned back to Gator, he saw that the plastic had been laid out and the hose was right where he wanted it. He spun the cleaver in his hand, looking like something out of an action movie, as he slowly stepped forward.
The blade in his hand was sharp, far more sharp than he would have liked at the moment.
But he quite enjoyed hacking off fingers and extremities.
You couldn’t do that with a dull blade, not unless you really wanted to look like a psycho from the force and damage it caused.
He didn’t care all that much. Maybe next time he’d ask for something less efficient.
He’d give it thought when he wasn’t in the heat of the moment.
Carver sighed as he grazed Gator’s cheek with the blade, drawing the first bits of blood. It was going to be a good day.
He went to work, carving away at the traitor before him. His mind wandered to his boy, to the past, and even to the future they could have. He let the anger at what he had missed swell up and pour out of him as he sliced away.
The only time he paused was to loosen the ropes so Gator’s body could land on the plastic covering the floor. By then, the traitor had been too weak to fight back.
Each swing of his cleaver brought Carver pleasure. He hacked away at fingers and toes. When those were gone he moved on to random parts of the body, chopping the forearm in the middle, hacking into the shoulder.
He knew that Gator was dead long before he finished, but he didn't want to stop. Carver was enjoying the rush too much. It was just like he’d said. The minute he began, his restraint withered.
Eventually, he dropped the cleaver and began to punch Gator’s mutilated form. Next, he stomped his boots against what remained a few times for good measure.
When he finally finished, his breaths were coming in heavy, and there was nothing left that was recognizable.
Carver turned to his men and smiled. Blood covered every inch of him, dripping from his hands and face.
The apron he wore, despite being black to hide the carnage, was moist against him, having absorbed so much of the blood he spilled. He could even taste the copper on his lips. It didn't deter him from giving them a gruesome smile.
“Does anyone else want to confess their sins to The Butcher?” he asked curiously.
The men shook their heads quickly.
Trix came over with the sprayer and pointed it at Carver. “Do you want me to?”
Carver closed his eyes and nodded, holding his arms out. Warm water hit his skin, rinsing the bulk of the mess away. He was thankful for all the drains in the floor that would get rid of the evidence. Carver would still need a shower, but this way, he wouldn’t trail anything in his wake.
Though, it didn't matter all that much because the police didn't come out that way. They were secluded enough to prevent it. At least on this part of their land they were.
He spun to let Trix clean his back, opening his eyes to see how his men were handling everything. Carver's heart dropped as he saw a face he didn't expect to.
Gideon was in the room.
Why the fuck was his boy there? Who had brought him? Had he ridden someone's bike or did someone bring him in a car? The thought of his boy riding with someone else made Carver angry enough to want to revive Gator to go at him again.
The answer to his questions came when he saw Fury step in front of Gideon, his back to Carver as he spoke to the sweet boy.
Carver worried what came next. His boy had never seen him angry that way. He didn't know the violence that Carver possessed.
Would he still want to be with him? Or was Carver too scary? Would he see the protectiveness behind Carver's actions? Or would Gideon only recognize the monster within him?
Trix finished before he could overthink it. “All done, Boss.”
Carver took a deep breath, clearing his thoughts about his boy to focus on the next steps. "I want a crew to clean this all up and burn his body. All his possessions should be burned as well. Traitors to the Angels get no remorse from me.”
With that, Carver stomped out of the warehouse through a side door. The second he hit fresh air, he dropped to his knees. His hands went to the ground, and he gulped for air.
If his boy hated him after this, he didn't know what he would do. At the same time, the relief he felt from letting his anger loose was instantaneous. The ache and pain he'd been pressing down as to not blow up on anyone was gone.
He was back to just being Carver, that dark part of him sated.
But he knew it would return. He knew it would rise up again and again.
If his boy stuck around, he would see it. The question was, would he want him anyway?