Chapter 9
Shotgun
“They find anything?”
“No,” Viper answered. “They didn’t find shit, but they certainly tried. Fuckers ransacked the entire clubhouse and did the same damn thing at the strip club.”
“Any idea what they were looking for?”
“They said they were there about the girl, but I’m not buying it. I think they were after something else.”
“Like what?”
“I don’t know, but I intend to find out.” Viper glanced behind him at Ada’s front door as he asked, “The girl doing okay with all this?”
“As well as can be expected.” She hadn’t said a word when the guys showed up to get some of our things out of the locker.
Instead, she just sat there watching as their SUVs drove by the living room window.
I knew she was curious about what was going on, but she kept her questions to herself.
I took that as a sign that I’d finally gotten through to her, or at least I hoped I had.
“She has questions, which anyone in her shoes would, but she seems to be taking things in stride.”
“Good. Hopefully, we can get a handle on this thing and have her back home where she belongs.”
Viper’s words brought a strange twinge of irritation to the pit of my stomach, and I had no idea why.
I should’ve been eager to get Remington back home and out of my fucking hair, but I wasn’t.
In fact, I wasn’t eager at all. Instead, I found myself wanting to find a way to keep her around longer.
I cleared my throat, hoping it would help shake the unwelcomed feeling, and said, “I’ll get with Menace when we’re back and have him track down Abernathy and McKinney.
Maybe then we can finally learn some real answers. ”
“Menace was working on that.”
“He get anywhere?”
“Not sure. He and Country were going to see if they could track them down, but I haven’t heard from them since they left.”
“Any idea where they were going?”
“Some joint downtown.” Viper tugged at his beard as he said, “They’d been holed up there for most of the day, and Menace was hoping they could get their hands on them before they left.”
“Damn. Wish I’d fucking known. I’d have gone along with them.”
“I know you would, but they can handle this one.” He turned and started towards Ada’s door. “I better go in and say hello, or Ada will have my hide.”
I followed Viper inside, and I wasn’t surprised when Ada came rushing over to him with a big smile. “Well, look who da cat drug in.”
“How you making it, Ada?”
“Doin’ just fine. Tryin’ to stay busy.” She walked over to the stove and pulled out the cornbread she’d been baking. “I just made a mess of greens, some black-eyed peas, a big ol’ tenderloin, and some cornbread. Sit down and have ya some.”
“Can’t today, doll” Viper replied. “Gotta get back to the clubhouse.”
“Ya gotta eat, don’t ya?” Ada motioned him over to the table. “Now get over here and sit yourself down so I can feed ya.”
“Ada—”
“I don’t wanna hear it, mister.” She started filling a plate full of food.
Viper looked over to me, hoping for an out, but I simply shook my head. “Don’t look at me, Prez. I was still full from breakfast when Ada got after me. Only reason Remington got out of it was ’cause she was asleep.”
“Well, it does smell pretty damn good,” Viper admitted.
“That it does.”
As he walked over to the table and sat down, he told me, “I’ll meet you back at the clubhouse as soon as I get done.”
“Sounds good.” I walked over to Ada at the stove and gave her a hug as I said, “Thanks for letting us crash here for a bit.”
“You knows you’re welcome here any time.”
“I’m gonna hold you to that.”
“You better.”
I stepped over to Remington, who was napping on the sofa, and woke her up.
On our way out, Ada came over and said her goodbyes to Remington, and then we continued out to the SUV.
As I helped her inside, I couldn’t help but notice she felt a bit warm, and even with her bruises, it seemed like her coloring was a little off.
She didn’t say a word as she leaned back in her seat and closed her eyes once again.
I got in the truck next to her, and as we headed to the clubhouse, I started to get a little concerned as to why she was so out of it.
I gave her little nudge. “You doing okay over there?”
“Hmm...I’m just really tired and achy.”
“Been a long day.”
“Um-hmm.”
I turned my focus back to the road as I told her, “I’ll grab you some fresh clothes, maybe some that actually fit, and if Doc gives the okay, you can finally get that shower you were wanting.”
Without opening her eyes, she mumbled, “I already told you that I like these clothes.”
“Yeah, I remember.” I couldn’t help but get a kick that she liked my clothes as much as she did, especially when they swallowed her like they did. “I’ll try and find some more just like them.”
“Um-hmm.”
She sounded weak, like she was barely hanging on, so I reached over and placed my hand on her forehead and discovered she was burning up.
Damn, that wasn’t a good sign, so I picked up my phone and messaged Doc to let him know we were on our way back to the clubhouse.
As soon as we arrived, I got out of the truck and rushed over to the passenger side to get Remington.
She was sound asleep and didn’t seem to notice when I lifted her into my arms. Her body was completely limp as I carried her down to the infirmary.
When I walked in, Doc was there waiting for us. “Bring her over to the gurney.”
She was still out of it when I set her down. “What’s wrong with her, Doc?”
“Hard to say just yet.” He placed his hand on her forehead. “But if her fever is any indication, I’d say she’s got an infection somewhere.”
“Where?”
“I’m trying to figure that out.” He lifted her shirt and started checking the stitches at her abdomen. After they looked okay, he moved up to the wound near her collarbone. He pressed down on the red, swollen area and said, “I think this is our problem.”
“The sutures?”
“Could be or the fact she was stabbed with a dirty, fucking knife.”
I glanced down at her, and my chest tightened when I saw how pale and fragile she looked.
It was hard to believe just a couple of hours ago she was sitting at the table with Ada and me.
She seemed fine. Better than fine. I thought she was on the mend, but looking at her now, I realized just how wrong I really was. “She was fine a couple of hours ago.”
“Infections can take time to set in.” He rushed over to the cabinet and took out an IV kit as he said, “Regardless, she’s gonna need a rather strong round of antibiotics. Hopefully, that will do the trick, or I’ll have to open her back up so she doesn’t go septic on us.”
“Fuck.”
“I’ve got this, brother.” He nodded his head over to the door. “Menace was asking about you earlier. Why don’t you go see what he wants, and I’ll get with you after I’ve taken care of her?”
“Okay.” I reluctantly started walking over to the door. Just before I stepped out of the room, I turned back to Doc and asked, “Is she gonna be okay?”
“If I have anything to say about it, she will be.”
“Thanks, Doc.” I closed the door and rushed down the hall to find Menace. I’d just made it to his room when I heard him call out to me. “Yo, Shotgun! I’ve been looking for you.”
“I just got back. What’s going on?”
“We got ’em.”
I knew he was talking about Abernathy and McKinney. “Seriously?”
“Fuck yeah. ’Bout a half hour ago.” Looking quite proud of himself, he continued, “They were drinking down at one of their hangouts and were both feeling pretty fucking good until we tackled their sorry asses in the back alley.”
“Where are they now?”
“We took them down to your holding rooms.”
During my time as the Sinners’ enforcer, I’d constructed three different holding rooms filled with various tools and restraints I used to extract intel from assholes like Abernathy and McKinney.
It was a place where I could cut loose and release my inner demons, and at that moment, I was eager to unleash those demons on the men in those two rooms. Not only did I want to make them pay for hurting Remington like they had, but I also needed to find out everything they knew about Long and that fucking Detective Mathews. “Give me a couple of hours.”
“You got it.”
With that, I turned and headed to the first holding room.
When I walked in, I found Drake Abernathy standing in the middle of the room with his hands bound above his head.
Like the picture Menace had shown me, the guy was young with tattoos covering his arms and neck.
He was average-sized, several inches shorter than me, and about a hundred and ninety pounds with dark, beady eyes and a scar under his left eye.
Menace and Country had roughed him up a little.
He had a couple of bruises and scratches on his arms and face, but they were nothing like what he was about to get.
A snarl crossed his face as I approached. “Who the fuck are you?”
Instead of answering, I slammed my fist into his gut, knocking the wind from his lungs, then stood there glaring at him as he tried to catch his breath.
When he finally recovered, he spat, “You don’t know who you’re messing with, motherfucker.
You and your boys have fucked-up big time. Fuck. You’re as good as fucking dead.”
“You’re in no position to be making threats.” I walked over to the counter and picked up my ball-peen hammer. As I carried it back over to Abernathy, I told him, “I’ve got some questions for you. Answer them, and I’ll consider taking it easy on you. Don’t answer, and there’ll be hell to pay.”
“I ain’t answering shit.”
“I was hoping you’d say that.” I tightened my grip on the hammer, then slammed it into his shin.
A sense of satisfaction washed over me as his pain-filled screams echoed through the room.
Panicked, he tugged at his restraints, trying with all his might to break free, but it was no use.
He wasn’t going anywhere any time soon. I hit him again in the knee as I asked, “You ready to start talking?”