11. Ronny
11
RONNY
We took all of the women to my house because my brothers are taking those guys to the basement where I’m going to find out what the fuck happened and why this Elliot fucker was starting all of this shit.
He grabbed her, hurt her, and I could feel the knot on her head where she banged it against the bartop when he pulled her off her feet.
Elliot and these gang bangers are connected and I’m going to find out how.
The gang bangers and Elliot are lined up in chairs on the floor, which are bolted to the ground and unbolted when not in use.
The room is dusty, my best guess is it’s not been used for a long time. My dad is by my side. “Fuck, I haven’t gotten to have fun in a long-ass time.” He grins at me wickedly, rubbing his hands together.
I chuckle at him and all my brothers look like they’re having the time of their lives in anticipation of them being able to get their hands dirty.
I remember the first time I was allowed down here, how my dad had shown me all of the tools and what I could use them for if I ever needed them.
The time has fucking come.
All I can picture is the fear in Olivia’s eyes when he grabbed her, forced her to the floor, and that shit will never happen again.
Elliot will not be leaving here alive.
The door is thrown open again and Brian, Olivia’s dad, makes his way inside. His eyes go straight to mine. “She okay?” he asks, and I know he is referring to Olivia.
I nod. “She is.”
Once all of the members are here and the door is locked behind us, the only way in or out is if you have the code.
“This can go one of two ways.” I step forward in front of Elliot, eyeing him, thinking of the ways I want to choke the life out of him. His arm that was shattered is hanging limply at his side. You can see the bone underneath the skin, looking like it’s going to break through.
I laugh at the agony on his face, the blood dripping from his head wound and down his temple. I don’t have an ounce of sympathy for this fucker, he could have seriously hurt Olivia when he pulled her down on the floor.
“You can tell us exactly why you were at the club and why you were trying to fight my brothers, going after his ole lady.” Lane steps in front of them.
“Our gang, we are here to save the children. Elliot and his wife, Olivia, were paid to give us children in bad situations to a home where they will be happy,” he says this with a smile on his face, his nose busted to the point it’s almost completely flattened to his face.
“So, kidnapping children from bad homes, and then they are sent somewhere else?” Lane asks.
He nods, grinning like we are just going to let him go. “But the problem is, Elliot and Olivia owe us either kids or money, and I was there to collect from him and his wife.”
Holy fucking shit. What the hell has Elliot been doing and why did he get my woman involved?
“Where do you send the kids to?” Lane asks, and I have to fight with every ounce of my power to not run over there and rip his head off.
The gang members turn their heads in sync to look at who was speaking.
He shrugs. “Some hippies out in the boonies. They give us a shit ton of money and we don’t ask many questions. We paid those two the money to hand us some kids over and they didn’t.”
“How many kids have you taken there already?” Lane asks, and we all look calm, but you can feel the rage radiating from everyone.
He shrugs. “Elliot was good about giving us kids until last week or so, and then he went off the deep end over his wife running off.”
I flinch when he calls Olivia his wife, because she is mine.
I look at Elliot to see if he is awake. He has one eye open, looking up at us, the other swollen shut. I can’t fight the urge to split the distance between us, so I reach into my back pocket and take out a pair of gloves.
“Elliot, I believe it’s time to stop pretending to be asleep and start talking.” I bend down in front of him, his head hanging toward his lap.
His breathing grows rapid the closer I move. “Aww, it looks like someone is pretending to be asleep, so I guess I will have to wake you up then.”
I wrap my hand around his broken arm, and he starts screaming and kicking his legs out at me. “Stop!” His face turns red, spit rolling down his chin with blood mixed in. A tooth is hanging out over his lip from being knocked out.
“I knew you were awake, Elliot.” I tsk and back up. “Are you going to answer for yourself? How many kids have you given away or sold?” I cross my arms over my chest, waiting, my hands clenching over and over.
Elliot is sobbing now, but I don’t have any sympathy for this fucker. He dragged my woman into some kind of trafficking shit and she could have been hurt, or fucking worse—killed.
“You broke my arm. I think I need a doctor, man. The bone is almost sticking out.” His look at his arm, turns his head to the side, and throws up on the floor, getting it on the gang member beside him.
“What the fuck, man! That’s nasty.” The member gags, and that starts him off, throwing up himself, and he makes sure to throw up on Elliot.
Fucking disgusting.
All of my brothers are cringing at the smell, then Elliot is back to screaming once again, and I try not laugh. “You are having a really bad day, huh?” I pretend to be sympathetic.
“But guess what, Elliot? I can make it ten times worse, and I will start cut by cut. Nail by nail, until you are nothing but pieces.”
His one eye widens at what I am suggesting, and I mean every fucking word. He swallows hard, looking to each person in the room to see if anyone is going to help him.
“No one is going to help you, but they will help me cut you into little, bitty pieces.” I walk back up to the wall and grab a knife before making my way over to Elliot who is trying to push his seat back.
Christopher moves next to me. Right now he looks just like his dad, but he has one thing that is more fucking scary than I want to admit.
He has his grandpa’s smile and he is wearing it right now. Right behind him is the ex-president and Lane’s dad, grinning ear to ear—that is why they call him Smiley.
Lane stands by his son as my dad comes to my side. “I guess we have some fuckers that don’t want to talk.” My dad grins and walks to the wall, picking a bone saw. “I think this will be a great start, because that arm is fucked.”
I nod. “That is a good idea, Dad.”
Elliot looks at the saw. “Wait, they can fix my arm,” he pleads with us, while the gang members are silent and watching the scene in horror.
“Didn’t expect this to happen, did you, fuckers?” They shake their heads no, petrified, and I grin at the one closest to me with a dark stain on the front of his pants. The fucker pissed himself.
I lift up Elliot’s hand and give it a shake before letting it fall to his lap. “Yeah, I think it’s fucked.”
His face is pale white, like he is seconds away from throwing up again. I take the bone saw, done playing games with him. If he doesn’t want to speak, I will make him.
My dad takes ahold of his wrist, slamming it down on the arm of the chair, then he holds it down, leaving Elliot’s wrist exposed so that I can use the saw.
Christopher moves behind him and holds his shoulders to ensure he doesn’t pull away. I press the blade on his arm as he shakes his head no.
“Oh yes, you touched my girl and now I am going to take your hand.” I press down hard, making a sawing motion with my hand and running it across his skin over and over. Blood is running down his hand, spraying across his legs, and his head falls forward.
“Well, he didn’t last long.” My dad chuckles, taking ahold of Elliot’s severed hand and throwing it toward the gang members.
“What is the name of your gang?” Lane asks them, walking the line in front of the men. They’re not looking at him but at me and the hand that is lying in one of their laps, and they can’t do anything about it since they’re tied up.
One of the guy’s swallows hard. “We don’t have one yet.”
I close my eyes at how pathetic this is. Konrad walks over and gives him a shot of adrenaline to wake him up, and not even seconds later Elliot is awake, looking wildly around the room.
He looks down at his arm and screams the worst blood-curdling scream yet. “Ready to speak now?” I ask him, confident he is ready to sing for us now.
I grab my bone saw, ready to start taking off the rest of his limbs. “I can start taking care of your other body parts.” I look down to his dick and he gasps, blood spraying from his mouth, and that sends that tooth sailing across the room, landing right in front of Smiley’s foot.
Elliot swallows hard, trying to clear his throat of the blood. “You’re going to kill me either way, aren’t you?” he asks.
I nod. “You are not going to leave here alive, but how painfully you die is up to you,” I inform him.
It’s his own fault, he signed his death warrant, but I won’t kill him until I find out what the hell he has done to those kids and where they are.
“A year ago, I was approached by a man with a long beard, wearing rags that are something hippies would wear. He smelt really bad, like he didn’t believe in soap.” I close my eyes, annoyed that he is drawing this out even more.
He lets out a shaky breath, his body vibrating, and he can’t pass out because of the adrenaline in his body not allowing him to.
He will die of blood loss soon. “Konrad, can you put a tourniquet on him so he doesn’t bleed to death?” I ask him, wanting Elliot to be able to talk.
Konrad is a surgeon and our club doctor. He makes sure to keep them alive long enough to have them suffer more, because sometimes an easy death isn’t deserved. They need to suffer, be tormented.
One of my brothers in the MC kept a fucker who hurt his ole lady alive for years in this very basement with the lights off, to the point it drove the guy insane, and if Elliot doesn’t start talking, I’m thinking I might just keep him until he dies of old age.
We have dog cages across the room that we can store them in from small to large, and we have chains where we can tie them up around their throats like animals.
Christopher even got some older medieval torture devices that he looked into, and they’re fucking scary, I have to admit. He had them specially made by someone out of state.
After Konrad is finished, he steps back, and Elliot continues talking with a lot of effort, his skin paling further whenever he looks at his arm, which looks gruesome, but the line is completely straight and even.
“You know social workers don’t make a lot of money and this guy promised these kids would have a new life, a home, that he would pay me to send them to him and I could even reroute the money to my account which the state gives to foster parents.
“Then I couldn’t keep up with the demands and they were starting to get pissed, and the money I owed started to add up. I got scared and I told him that my wife is a social worker too, then I started stealing cases that were meant to be hers.”
His back arches. “Fuck, can you give me something for the pain?” he begs us.
“No, finish,” I order.
“These men here were paid to come collect the money or the kids the last couple of weeks. I told them that my wife had a lot of money and she will bail me out. They were there to collect any way possible.”
He set her up to take the fall for him.
I turn to the members. “What did you plan to do to collect that money?” I ask them, while my dad moves closer to me, grabbing my arm and stopping me from charging them. I didn’t even realize I was moving closer to them.
“I don’t think we should tell you,” the one on the far left says, scared out of his mind. “This is a mistake, we didn’t know she wasn’t his wife.”
“Tell me,” I demand, and they look at each other before the main guy answers.
“This is before we knew she was yours, okay?” he tries to reassure me, like it changes anything.
I nod for him to continue. “If she didn’t fork the money over then we would have gotten it from her by any way we can.”
“How?” I start pacing in front of them, and my dad stays with me.
He doesn’t want to tell me, he is scared and I know that means it was not good. “We were going to whore her out until the debt was paid.”
“Elliot knew this also?” I want to get all the facts.
He nods. “He agreed it was the best idea to get the money until he could produce more kids to pay the rest of.”
“What kids are you sending there?” my dad asks, looking at Elliot.
“Girls from the ages twelve to sixteen years old.”
Oh, hell the fuck no.
I look at my brothers as we all fucking realize that this hippie commune is a trafficking place, because why else are they buying girls in that age range?
I want to fucking throw up because this shit is hitting too close to home. We all have been touched by a cult years ago that hurt so many of our families’ lives.
This cult hurt, kidnapped, raped, and destroyed so many lives I’m surprised anyone even managed to survive it.
My Olivia was kidnapped.
This may not be the same cult, but this shit is hitting too close to comfort for all of us. People are still hurting to this day because of people like these men, and I see the pain Olivia had to come to terms with.
“You know what this man who runs the operation is doing to those young girls, don’t you?” Lane asks all of them.
“We have suspicions, but we don’t know for sure. They are to rebuild the world once it ends.”
My dad sighs. “Let me get Techy and River in on this, so we can get this shit started and get those girls out of there.” He takes out his phone and texts them all of the information. “What is his name?”
“Jody Benson.”
“I think that’s everything?” I ask all of my brothers, and everyone agrees.
Now the fun begins.
“Are you going to let us go?” the head gang banger asks, and I smirk.
“Oh, none of you are leaving here alive, that is for certain, but we will play first.”
They start screaming at the top of their lungs, kicking, fighting, and trying to get out of the chairs.
My brothers go straight for the gang members but I’m going straight to Elliot with my dad at my back and Brian who will get his piece.
Elliot looks at me like he is already dead inside. The life has gone out of him, the blood loss getting to him, but he will perk up when I get started on doing what I planned to do.
“Oh, what to do.” I tap my hand on my chin, circling him. “You were going to allow them to rape my woman?” I ask him, and he doesn’t react, giving me the answer I need. “You sent young girls to a hell that will forever alter their lives. You ruined them and now, I’m going to ruin you.” I jerk his head back, grabbing him by his hair, and he hisses in pain.
“I haven’t played hockey in a good couple of weeks.” My dad has a grin on his face and we untie Elliot, dragging him across the room to tie him up by his uninjured arm, his legs spread out in a V.
I grab a hockey stick and a puck that I stored down here in case I needed them—and it looks like I need them now.
I set the puck on the ground and smack my stick a few times to get the feel of it in my hands again, but the feeling is as easy as moving a limb.
“Please, don’t do this.”
I smack my stick across the ground, sending the puck flying at high speeds across the floor and straight in the center of his legs to his dick.
The scream he lets out is much louder than when I cut off his hand. “Holy shit, I know that hurt.” Christopher winces.
Over and over, I send the puck down the floor toward his dick and he finally manages to pass out. “His jewels are smoked.” Christopher cups his dick and I bust out laughing—he looks horrified.
“Want to try?” I ask, and he takes the hockey stick, sending the puck down the floor, and hits Elliot on the bottom of his foot.
One by one everyone manages to take turns until he has been hit an ungodly number of times until his body is starting to turn different colors.
Hours have passed at this point and I’m dying to get home to my daughter and my woman. I want to hold them and thank God they are safe.
Elliot didn’t succeed in hurting Olivia or taking her but if something happened to her again, I would burn down the world at the unfairness. This girl has been through so much already.
I take the bone saw and let Elliot’s body flop onto the floor. He doesn’t move and I don’t care if he is awake to witness this.
I drag the saw across his neck just as his eyes fly open, and he stares at me, right into my fucking soul.
I get a sick satisfaction that I won, that I got the girl and he is going to hell, where he deserves.
The room is silent, so I turn around to find all of the gang members are now also dead. “We’ve got some work to do, brothers, but let’s go home until we get the information we need,” Lane tells all of us, before opening the door for us to leave.