Chapter 8 #2
The room smelled of copper and sweat, the sour scent of fear.
There was a man chained to the wall, his arms drawn up high enough that his toes barely touched the floor, not that he could plant them.
His arms were the only thing keeping him up, and they were stretched to their limit.
He was wearing just a pair of torn jeans that were covered in blood.
His boots and socks had been discarded, to be disposed of once Ballistic was done.
I also noticed a leather cut tossed on the other side of the room. I could just make out the Kingsmen patch.
I cracked my knuckles, drawing Ballistic’s eyes for a moment, but he went back to the guy on the wall. The man also glanced at me, struggling to lift his head. His face was barely recognizable. I wasn’t sure his own mother would know him.
His forehead was split open, his hair matted with blood. Both eyes were swollen, only one was open enough to see what was going on. Blood dripped down his chin from his lip, which was split and I’m sure a few teeth had been knocked loose. Ballistic was thorough in his methods.
Three long slices that looked as if they had been bleeding for a while and were now coagulating marred his chest from collarbone to belly button. I winced slightly when I noticed a nipple was missing.
Careful not to touch anything, I just waited. Ballistic was running the tip of a blade back and forth over the side of his jeans, his thumb pressed to the blunt edge. Not enough to cut through the fabric, but enough to show the malice and intent in the movement. A promise of what was coming.
“Who else was there that night?” Ballistic asked, his voice measured and calm. He only asked what was necessary, the questions he wanted answers to.
“Uug oo.”
That was a good effort of a ‘fuck you’ considering his mouth was ruined to shit. I was getting an idea what this was about, and I took a step closer. Ballistic nodded to the question in my eyes. My fists clenched as I looked at the scum on the wall. This was one of them.
“He was overheard bragging. Dumb fuck,” Ballistic muttered to me. “Stitch wanna be here…?” he left the question hanging. It’d been a while since I heard Connor’s road name, so named for always having people in stitches with laughter.
To be honest, I wasn’t sure Connor wanted to witness this. He had made no insinuations he wanted a part of what happened to his attackers when we caught them. War though, he might want to, and he could ask Connor his thoughts.
I fired off a text and put my phone back in my pocket. I had grabbed a gun from the truck before getting out of it and felt the weight of it against my back. King made sure those of us who carried had licenses, otherwise brothers were under strict instructions not to.
Ballistic wasn’t a fan of guns but he wasn’t averse to others using them. As long as the evidence was dug out, which was what Hammer was here for.
“Give me names.”
The guy spat on the floor. Ballistic moved so fast I barely saw it happen. He sliced underneath the guy’s armpit, not the artery, but close. He howled in pain and arched against the chains, trying to get away. But that would not happen.
“How about I give you some names?” Ballistic said in his quiet voice. “Alicia. Harrison.”
The man on the wall stopped fighting and his head came up. I could guess who they were. Ballistic wouldn’t hurt women and children, but he had no compunction using their names against people.
“I appreciate your loyalty to your club. I’m sure you were following orders. But you enjoyed it, didn’t you? You enjoyed feeling that bat against my brother’s head.”
He started shaking his head, blood flying from his mouth. It was running freely from under his arm now and I wondered if Ballistic might have nicked the artery. He was usually careful about that and had spent years studying human anatomy. He’d been drilling me on it for years.
“Three other men were there that night. I need their names.”
“Can’t,” the man moaned, and I could see the torment in his battered face.
Hammer took out a cell phone and started a video, which he showed to the man. I could hear a woman’s voice and a child’s laughter. I swallowed when a tear fell from the man’s eye.
He was fucked, and he knew it. He could either give up his brothers or have his woman and child hurt. Even though I knew that wouldn’t happen, this man did not.
The sound of the door opening behind me drew my attention. War stormed into the room, his face angry. No sign of Connor, so I presumed he’d declined to join, or War hadn’t asked him.
“This is one of them?” War asked, stepping beyond me.
He was so full of rage not even Ballistic could stop him when War pulled his gun and fired a bullet into the man’s kneecap. The sound the man made was other worldly. I couldn’t imagine the pain he was in. A part of me wanted to pity him.
Then I remembered Connor in that hospital bed, knowing what had been done to him, and I hardened myself.
War was letting his emotions get the better of him and Ballistic hated that when he was in the middle of these things. War was his VP, so he erred on the side of caution by placing a heavy hand on his shoulder and tilting his head in my direction, subtly telling him to back off.
War paced in front of me, the gun gripped so hard his knuckles were white. I gave him a look, silently asking if he could handle this.
He eventually nodded and came to my side, putting his gun away. The sounds of a female voice were still playing on Hammer’s phone. War frowned but said nothing.
“Last chance,” Ballistic said.
It took him barely two minutes to give in. I wrote the names down. Ballistic raised a brow our way. I knew we should leave him to it, but I didn’t think War would be able to. I would happily let War do this. He removed his cut and handed it to me.
Once we had what we wanted, he took his gun, put it to the side of the guy’s head, and pulled the trigger three times with a roar. It was close up and not exactly the best of ideas, but the job was done. The asshole was dead. And we were on our way to avenging Connor.
Ballistic went to clean up his tools, Hammer deleted the video and headed into the morgue to get ready. War turned to me, blood splattered on his shirt, neck, and face. I grabbed a towel from a hook behind me and tossed it to him. He followed Hammer to clean up.
Ballistic glanced over. “You good with that?”
“Yeah,” I pocketed the list. I had touched nothing or been near enough to get any evidence on me, so I left the Shed and headed back to the compound.
Kansas, the prospect, was a computer genius, so he could track these guys down for us. King was eager to get him patched in. There was going to be a bonfire party and a ceremony in a couple of days. This was something King would want to celebrate too.
As I passed the old lady’s house, I saw Connor on the veranda with Waverley.
Both of them looked over at me. Connor’s smile dropped as he raised a questioning brow.
So War had told him, but he decided not to come down.
Waverley looked confused as I nodded to Connor, letting him know what he needed to.
I saw his shoulders drop as he lowered his chin to his chest. We would need to keep an eye on him tonight, but he was good for now.
Waverley would look after him, even if she didn’t know the details. I just hoped she didn’t pressure him into telling her. I wasn’t sure Connor could hold it in.
Striding into the clubhouse, I went to the security room beside King’s office, but knocked to let the Prez know what had gone down first. King yelled for me to come in. He was wearing his glasses as he pored over a document on his desk. He removed them and looked at me.
“We’ve got names,” I said. “Gonna get Kansas to look them up. War finished it.”
King nodded, understanding what I meant without having to say it. “Good. Find them and fast.”
I saluted him with two fingers to my temple, then headed out to find Kansas, but King’s voice stopped me.
“Waverley is moving in with the old ladies. Keep Stitch close tonight.”
Surprise had my brows furrowing, but it was the only outward sign hearing that news bothered me. No, not bothered me. I didn’t care where she was. I wanted her moved, so we had Connor nearby. King had done me a favor before I had to ask.
Kansas had his feet up, watching cartoons and eating a taco. He almost dropped it when he saw me. He was a fucking nerd who would be best kept indoors, but he was an asset, so I didn’t hurt him too badly when I kicked his legs off the table.