Chapter 35 #2
Giving information more freely now, Doc answers without hesitation. “Eight, nine years back.” Even as hurt as he is, he manages to roll his eyes, adding sarcastically, “I didn’t actually think to write the date down.”
Tempest sends a right hook to his jaw, and another tooth falls out.
“I’m talking.” Doc’s voice sounds odd as he gurgles through a mouthful of blood. “What more do you fuckin’ want?”
“Just the answers, no embellishment,” Prez states.
“Not gonna lie, not feeling particularly friendly at the moment, Doc. For eight, nine…” He scoffs as he repeats Doc’s phrasing.
“Years, you’ve been providing medical attention to the Mojave Devils while we were paying for your exclusive services, and may I remind you, paying you quite a lot. ”
“You’ve got it wrong,” Doc yells. He seems to be angry at the implied insult to his ethical standards.
“I didn’t step out on the Kings. I never offered my services to them.
They never knew I was working with you. They were a small street gang when I first came upon them, grew into a bigger unit, and formed an MC over the years.
” He spits out blood before continuing. “It was only when one of their members, whom you, for some goddamn unknown reason, brought in to prospect for the Kings, saw me around this clubhouse. Word got back to them that I was available to extract bullets and sew up wounds.”
“Fuckin’ Griz,” Saint murmurs, and all four of us spit on the floor.
I step forward, tilting my head toward Prez. Narrowing his eyes, sending a warning to me by just his expression, he nevertheless raises his chin, giving me permission. “Did you recognise that Griz was a member of the Mojave Devils when you came to the club?”
Prez, Tempest, and Freak inch closer. “Yes,” he admits.
“But what business was it of mine? It wasn’t my place to warn you.
I was just here to treat your fucking boo-boos.
” As five pairs of feet take another pace toward him, he backtracks fast. “I didn’t know what Skunk was doing with the Kings, I promise you.
I treat your MC. I’m not aware of your inner workings. ”
Exchanging glances with each other, a whole conversation is completed without words. We’re all in agreement that justice, for this further betrayal, will be delivered by way of more pain being doled out, but after we’ve heard his full confession.
Prez takes a second to regather his thoughts. “So, when Skunk told them your medical skills were for sale, what was your response?”
Sighing, as though relieved to move on to a new topic, he offers, “I told them no. They’re a long drive from here, and it’s not very convenient.”
When he stops, Prez’s eyes pointedly glance over his head toward Freak.
“No, no. Don’t hurt me again. I’ll give you more.
When they wouldn’t take no for an answer, they asked, demanded that I go see them to talk about what the restitution might be for me driving all that way when they needed medical treatment.
” Pausing, he swallows, his Adam’s apple bobbing in his neck.
“When I got there, they had pictures of me and the various liaisons I’d had with girls, going back years.
” His voice lowers, his eyes squeeze shut, then reopen, and he whispers, “They offered me two options. Either they’d expose all the evidence they had on me, or I gave them the benefit of my medical skills in return for me having the first choice of girls. ”
“We’re talking young girls. Kids. Pre-pubescent.” Prez doesn’t phrase it as a question, but Doc replies anyway.
“Yes.” Fuck, I want to kill him for hearing the admission out of his mouth. It confirms what an animal he is.
Prez gestures at Freak who seems overeager to get on with the business of breaking fingers.
But the enforcer’s not needed, at least for now.
Doc almost seems lost in his own little world, as he continues talking without encouragement.
“It’s not my fault,” he whines. “I’ve got a sickness, I know, but there’s no cure.
I have cravings, and when it’s offered to me, I can’t help myself. I have to take it.”
“And ruin the life of a little girl,” Prez spits at him.
“They were going to be ruined anyway. They were the product that the Mojave Devils were going to sell. I just got first dibs on some of them.”
“What did you have to give MDMC in return? And don’t give me that rubbish about medical attention, as I’m not stupid. I know there was more.”
Doc hesitates. I see Tempest raise his hand, but Doc continues without needing encouragement, his shoulders slumping.
“You were right earlier. Once they knew of my connection with you, they wanted all I could tell them about the club. Most of it, though, they already knew from what Skunk had fed back.”
Prez stands and kicks his chair over, making Doc rear back in his seat. “Not what you said earlier. Then, you just casually mentioned you’d seen the same asshole with us and with them. Yet, now you admit to way more than that. You fuckin’ knew we had a traitor in the club.”
“Wasn’t my business to get caught in the middle,” he replies haughtily. “What’s it to me if biker scum takes each other out?”
I can tell Freak’s having difficulty restraining himself. On my part, I’m vibrating with anger, and I see Saint and Tempest are having the same trouble. Respect for our prez keeps us in place.
“Go on,” he growls.
“Skunk disappeared, and they asked me what I knew about that. I told them I had no idea. I hadn’t treated him. He’d had no injury I’d seen. One day he was there, on my next visit, he wasn’t, and that’s all I could tell them. They did ask whether you’d tightened security after Skunk was last seen.”
“And you told them?”
He answers Prez with a sad little nod.
“About the new gates, about the cameras?”
Again, another up and down dip of his head.
“For fuck’s sake,” Saint roars. “Knew we should never have trusted you.”
Prez picks up his chair, turns it around, and now sits on it with his arms folded over the back.
I might not be able to see it, but I can imagine his piercing stare.
“Okay, so now you start talking about them. You tell us everything you know about the MDMC, and be sure you leave nothing out. I want to know about their numbers, their clubhouse, their fuckin’ trade in human flesh, their bowel movements, how often they take a piss, and anything else you’ve learned. ”
I don’t know whether Doc thinks there’s a chance we might let him go, but when he starts talking next, he spills everything – enough to fill a notebook or more. I notice Saint has his phone out and is recording him.
Two things stand out. One, the Mojave Devils want to take over our compound and start a new chapter right where we are.
In fact, they want everything we have as we’re in a good position for them to move product, that being, of course, poor trafficked souls taken to be sold over the border.
Of course, we already know Griz would have given our main route to them, the details of how we get our shit into Mexico, but subsequently, they obviously made a decision they wanted our land as a convenient stop on the way as well.
The second, and very related, point is that our compound isn’t just an item on some wishlist. They’re already planning an attack to take us all out. That is coordinated to coincide with their next transport of product. Exactly when, though, Doc doesn’t know.
Freak, Tempest, Prez, and I share horrified glances, while Doc, oblivious to the bombshell he’s just dropped, continues talking.
When he runs out of steam, he’s given us so much to digest, and all of us are silent. I, for one, had no idea when we brought Doc in that it would be to hear that the very heart of our club is under threat.
“I’ve told you everything!” Doc cries out. “Now can you let me go? I won’t say anything to anyone about how I got hurt.”
Prez tilts his head toward me. “I got everything I want, Short.” Under his breath, he mutters, “And a fuck load of shit I wish I’d never heard.” Then raising his voice again, he tells me, “Over to you.”
Let off the leash, I scream at Doc. “Where does Trip come into this? And Bronwyn?”
“They’re my kids. They’re nothing to do with you. I can do with them what I want.”
Without me asking, Freak doesn’t wait for permission, just chops the forefinger off Doc’s dominant hand.
Again, Doc screams, but I’ve no compassion. I wonder how many times Bronwyn made a similar sound when he was abusing her, or whether she’d sounded like that when she was forced to give birth to his child.
“Start talking,” I snap.
To encourage him, Freak takes a firm hold of his bleeding hand.
“They’re coming to collect Trip as soon as he’s found. As for Bronwyn? I can’t stop what’s already in hand. There’s a contract out on her,” Doc informs us, his mouth going tight. “The MDMC knows she’s the only one who can cause a problem when Trip disappears, so they want to clean house.”
“When?” Prez demands, taking over from me as I’m suddenly having trouble breathing.
“I don’t know,” Doc yells. “That’s the truth, but soon. I believe they already have someone in town.”
What the actual fuck? Prez nods at me. I leave the barn, wasting no time to pull out my phone. After dialling a number, I’m relieved when it’s answered after only one ring.
“Knight, you got your eyes on Bronwyn?”
“Well, I’m sitting in the parking lot.”
“I’m going to ring her now, tell her to claim an emergency and get her out of there as soon as I can. Follow her straight back to the club, yeah? And make sure she stays here once she’s arrived. Keep on a sharp lookout. There’s a credible threat to her. If anything happens to her—”
“If anything happens to your ol’ lady on my watch, I’ll fuckin’ walk without waiting for my patch. I got her, Short.”
“You better.”