Chapter 19 #2
Pops rolls his eyes and sighs when no one gets what the hell point he’s trying to make.
“It seems our sunshiney Joe has a hint of Creole voodoo in her, ain’t that right, girl?
” Pops asks Joe, slinging his arm over her shoulders and giving her a squeeze as she smirks up at him.
“I bet she learned from her momma, who learned from her momma, who learned from her momma, all sorts of fun ways to make a man lose his damn mind.”
All eyes move to Joe who shrugs, “All the herbs we use are medicinal. But we sometimes add a little bonus to them.”
“Lagniappe.” Loyal grins at her friend.
“Right, well, I mean, he’s already losing his shit, and he ain’t long for this world. We may as well expedite proceedings,” Damian says, ignoring us as we all turn to stare at him.
“Law speak, huh? Lemme guess, your momma owns a law firm?” Chef asks in a bored voice.
“No. I do.”
We gape at Damian who seems completely oblivious as he wanders around Hitchens and then jumps at him when he least expects it. The man screams and a dark patch starts to grow on the front of his jeans.
“Can we kill him yet? His screaming is pissing me off,” Blanche growls.
“Omen? You’re up,” Marx says, waving a hand at my brother.
Omen looks shocked, his gaze moving between Marx, our Prez, and Chewy.
“What? This is your place. I don’t just go around killing people willy nilly on other people’s turf.”
“Babe, that’s exactly how we met. You came onto my turf, took over the interrogation and killed a man in my shed.”
Chewy stares at Rhodie for a moment, before shrugging her shoulders.
“OK, well, I have a few ideas.” Omen rubs his hands together and I take this moment to head to my woman, pulling her into my arms.
“Do you and Joe want to head back to the clubhouse? Mama Debs has the girls and they’re baking.”
She looks up at me with her big, blue eyes, then at Joe, then back at me.
Selfishly, I don’t want her here. I don’t want her to see what we are capable of when it comes to people who hurt those we love.
I want Loyal to keep an air of innocence about her.
As soon as the thought appears in my brain I get the urge to punch myself in the face.
Loyal lost her innocence years ago at the hands of men not dissimilar to the man strapped to the chair.
I search her eyes, knowing what she is going to choose.
“I want to stay here. I need to see him gone. For Joe. For Addy and Bree and their mom and anyone else he hurt.”
“OK baby, you got it. Just brace yourself, yeah?” I take in her perfectly unconcerned face and it settles in my gut that perhaps my brothers have always been right. She’s not as delicate as I treat her. She’s tough, strong and apparently, a little bloodthirsty.
Nodding at her I take her in my arms, spinning her back to my front so we can watch Omen get to work. I don’t miss how Justice positions himself behind Joe either.
“Ready, sweetheart?”
“Ready.”
Loyal
I may have told Vex a little white lie. I said I was ready to watch the DRMC cause Hitchens all manner of pain and torture, but watching as he swings from the rafters by his wrists as Omen flays him is a lot more than I bargained for.
It turns out that what me and Joe and the Girl Gang did pales in comparison to what Omen can do.
It’s weird, watching a man I grew up with, one who was always so kind and gentle with me, turn so cold.
There is nothing but anger and cold precision in his eyes and I can see why he was chosen for this role.
Tipping my head back and twisting slightly I look up into Vex’s dark eyes.
All the Landrys have the same eyes. Dark and expressive, deep pools that hide trauma and tragedy, yet how they deal with it is different.
Lovely is the sweetest person you’ll ever meet and yet earlier I learned that she is extremely talented with a knife.
Blanche on the other hand is a blunt instrument.
She’s the one who brought down Eden’s Keep in one afternoon.
Saint Landry hides his pain with jokes and laughter, Omen with blood.
But Vex? His eyes have only shown me love.
Even when I was on the floor in the kitchen after Goodson paid me a visit, all I saw was love.
Not anger or revenge even though I know it consumed him.
“I love you, Victory ‘Vex’ Landry,” I whisper, pressing a kiss to the underside of his jaw.
“And I love you, Loyal Landry.”
My breath hitches at his words and a stomach full of butterflies takes flight. Those six simple words make me deliriously happy, even if I’m standing in a room that has a metallic smell so thick I can almost taste it.
“You know, when I’m torturin’ I like to play a little mood music. Helps dampen the screams,” Chewy offers as she watches a hunk of Hitchens skin slap on the floor.
“That’s not a bad idea. It’ll lighten the mood a little,” Rider says.
“Anyone got a bluetooth speaker on them?” Savage asks.
Everyone is silent until Damian pipes up. “Old King Wenceslas…”
“What the fuck is it with that guy and Christmas carols?” Saint asks.
“No!” Chewy says, jabbing a finger in Damian’s direction. She frowns for a moment, before turning thoughtful. “Can you sing any classics? NOT Christmas carols.”
“How classic?” Damian asks, mid-song.
“Let’s go with the 80’s, kid,” Pops says, crossing his arms over his chest.
Without a thought Damian bursts into something about wanting to dance with somebody.
“That’ll do,” Chewy nods, then gestures to Omen to keep going.
* * *
Omen drops the knife from his hand, clearly done with flaying.
He waves at Chef who climbs the ladder Pops was on earlier and cuts Hitchens from the rafters.
He lands on the ground in a heap, the close up damage to his back causes my stomach to lurch.
Now his hands are free he scratches at his arms and face, his breathing still irregular but at least his screams have slowed a little.
Although that could be because his voice started to break during Damian’s song.
“Leave him there,” Omen orders.
He moves toward the two presidents where they murmur to each other.
Omen has been peppering Hitchens with questions the whole time he’s been working on him.
Some of the answers made my stomach turn, others made me see red until I had to take a breath and blank out his voice.
It’s not my role to hear his confessions. I’m only here to see his life end.
“I think we have what we need,” Marx murmurs.
“One more thing,” Omen says, wiping his hands on a rag and picking up a pen, waving at Wire to follow him.
Omen grips Hitchens’ hair in his fist, bringing his face up to look at him as he whispers something to him.
I’m too far away to hear, but whatever it is has Hitchens shaking and sobbing more than he was before.
Wire thrusts some paper in his direction and Omen forces the pen into Hitchens fist. I’m not sure what it is, and I don’t care either.
Once Hitchens has done his part Omen nods and then grins in our direction, winking.
The light back in his eyes, the same Omen I grew up with.
“Hey, Chewy! Want to join the party?”
He walks along one side of the room, unlatching cage after cage, swinging open the doors until two huge gators come lumbering out.
“For those of you who haven’t had the pleasure, this is Gretchen and Smiley,” Saint says with a flourish.
“Holy shit, they’re bigger than last time.” A massive man with the name “Judge” on his cut says.
I jump when Chewy lets out a squeal and then gape when I see it’s out of pure excitement.
“Hold on! Let me get Chomper!” she says, rushing toward a smaller cage off to the side near the door.
“Wait, when did that get there?” Joe asks, staring in that direction.
I shrug because who would know? “Maybe when we were busy forcing Hitchens to drink pee?”
Joe snorts before bursting into giggles and I can’t help but join her. The sound is infectious.
“Oh, I think they’ve finally snapped,” Ana murmurs, her funny accent making my laughter even worse.
“Yup. Watch one torture and go totally loco,” Vi shakes her head sadly.
“Loco? Us? You brought your own gator!”
“Hey, that’s all Chewy, don’t lump us in with her,” Kaia winks.
“I don’t care. My baby will not miss out,” Chewy kisses Chomper on the snoot and makes baby noises at him before placing him in the middle of Hitchens’ back.
Hitchens screams silently, his face a mask of pure horror and fear and I can’t look away.
Instead my eyes hold his dark gaze, no longer cold and evil, but defeated and broken.
This is what I wanted to see. That is what will help me sleep at night as I cuddle my girls and soothe their nightmares.
Maybe when they’re old enough and asking what happened to their sperm donor I will tell them, but for now all they need to know is that their monster has been slain.
Turning in Vex’s arms I cuddle into him. I listen to wet jaws clamping and tearing, to the last rattling breath of a dying man, and the somewhat angelic voice of a six and a half foot blonde man.
“It’s done, baby.”
“Good. Now let’s go cuddle our girls.”