Chaos
I should have been exhausted and ready to sleep, but adrenaline was flowing through me.
I wanted to hear what Sinclair had to say and to end him and the threat he posed to other women, and to give my woman closure not only about the current victims but more than likely, for her best friend Elodie.
Bianca had been haunted long enough by her death.
The Thieves’ Hole felt crowded due to all the bodies crammed into it, though we still had enough room to move around and do what needed to be done. A chair was placed in the center of our gathering.
“Mishap, get your ass in the chair. You’re resting while you’re here.
The last thing we want is for you to collapse.
Not only will Bianca kick our asses, but we’ll have to hear the other old ladies cry about you.
It’s not happening. Stop trying to milk it with the ladies,” Wrath softly shouted to him.
His stern expression morphed into a grin as he looked at Bianca’s cousin.
As Mishap took a seat, he smirked at Pres. “I can’t help it if the ladies find me irresistible and want to take care of me, Pres. Maybe you guys need to find a way to become more lovable.”
There were hoots of laughter and muttering that Mishap had taunted the bears. Wrath cracked his knuckles. Rage twisted his neck from side to side, then rolled his shoulders. Shadow held up his tablet, and I withdrew the pair of brass knuckles from my pocket.
“Wait. I get Wrath, Rage, and Chaos’s threats. But Shadow, what the fuck kind of threat is your tablet?” Mishap laughed.
“I’m the biggest threat of the lot,” Shadow warned, smirking.
“How do you see that?” Mishap asked.
“They’ll beat your ass. I’ll erase your very existence. I can make it so you can’t be found or send off enough information to have the IRS crawling in your every orifice for the foreseeable future. And that’s just the start.” Shadow’s grin was menacing.
I watched Mishap gulp, then he held his hands up in surrender. “Alright, no need to get crazy. I’ll sit here and be good. And all your women are crazy for no one but you, lucky bastards.”
His quick capitulation made everyone, including himself, chuckle.
As abruptly as it started, the teasing and joking stopped, and everyone’s expressions became serious and murderous as we focused on Sinclair.
He sat in one of the cells, watching us.
His mouth was still covered in duct tape, and his arms were tied behind his back.
“I want that fucker brought out. Put him on the table. Make sure he’s secured tightly,” Wrath demanded.
It was Ryder and Nomad who jumped to do it.
Sinclair made a pathetic attempt to struggle with them after they opened the cell and removed him.
He wouldn’t have been able to get away from one of them, let alone both.
Ryder cut the zip ties holding our unwanted guest’s arms behind his back.
Sinclair’s momentary relief at being free ended when they slammed him down hard on the cold, unyielding metal table.
At all four corners there were leather restraints.
His wrists and ankles were swiftly buckled into them, and they were cranked down tight.
His muffled cries of pain were ignored. No one gave a shit. When they were done, they stepped back.
Sinclair twisted his head, trying to look at all of us as we encircled the table. I saw the panic in his eyes. He was making frantic but muffled sounds, as if trying to speak while his mouth was taped shut.
“Chaos, do the honors and take off the tape so we can hear what he has to tell us,” Wrath more or less ordered.
“More like so we can hear his screams,” Fury snickered.
More than one brother chuckled and agreed. I wasn’t gentle about removing it. The way he winced and then whimpered after the tape was removed—it hurt. Immediately, Sinclair launched into his spiel.
“Who are you? You have the wrong guy. I’ve not done anything to any of you. I’m just an ordinary delivery guy. I have nothing to do with the kinds of stuff you’re involved in. I swear.”
“Can’t you read? Christ, sound it out,” Crusher said in disgust as he turned his back on him so that Sinclair could read the back of his cut. Sinclair scanned it.
“Read it out loud, stupid,” Crusher barked.
“Pagan Souls of Oconee,” he said softly.
“That’s right, we’re the Pagans, and we don’t have the wrong guy. As for you being a delivery guy, that’s true, but that’s not all you are,” Storm said.
“The kinds of stuff we’re involved in? What stuff would that be?” Ryder asked harshly.
Sinclair remained silent until Ryder got in his face and yelled at him.
“Answer me when I speak to you! What kind of stuff are we involved in that you aren’t?” Ryder’s spittle rained down on Sinclair’s face. He grimaced, but he answered.
“You know, drugs, muscle-for-hire, guns, that sort of thing. Not that I’m judging you! I’m not. I just don’t do those things. I deliver drinks to businesses all over. I’ve never met any of you. That’s why I said you have the wrong guy.”
“Your wallet says your name is Patton Charles Sinclair. You live in Sparta. Is that correct?” Shadow asked.
“Yes, that’s me, but I don’t understand why I’m here.”
“What about what you were doing to that dancer at Velvet Bliss? You don’t call that wrong?” Troublemaker asked.
There was the barest flicker of something on Sinclair’s face before it was gone, and he was showing us his innocent, confused self.
“The dancer was feeling sick and hot. She came out of the dressing room and stumbled. I offered to help her get some air, hoping it would cool her off and ease her sickness. She must’ve gotten overheated on stage or something,” he answered.
“Oh, sure, yeah, you were just in the right place at the right time. You were playing the white knight for her. Taking her into the dark, deserted parking lot behind the club wasn’t so you could take her somewhere private so you could rape her,” Storm said gruffly.
Our prisoner widened his eyes, and his mouth dropped open. I had to hand it to him, if I didn’t know better, I’d believe he was innocent.
“Oh, God, no, I wasn’t doing anything like that! You can’t be serious. I go to the club all the time. The dancers know me. I knew that dancer. She calls herself Ivory. I helped her. I would never hurt her or any woman.” He sounded aghast.
“You willing to swear on your life that you would never do something like that?” Rage asked.
“Yes, I am. I swear to God that I have never harmed a woman, especially not in that way. I was merely trying to help her,” he rushed to declare.
We let the silence stretch. His eyes darted all around, and sweat broke out on his forehead. And it wasn’t because it was hot in the Hole. At times like this, we kept the temp at a cool sixty degrees.
“Maybe you should show him some of those pictures you brought, Shadow. It might help jar his memory,” Stitch said after a solid minute or more of silence.
“I think you’re right,” Shadow agreed.
Our hacker set down his tablet and reached inside his cut.
He removed a bundle of folded papers from the inner pocket.
He unfolded them and held up the first one close to our captive’s face.
I noticed the slight spasm of Sinclair’s body.
One by one, Shadow shuffled through the stack, showing photo after photo.
There were twenty. But none of them were of Elodie.
When he was done, Shadow tucked them away again.
“Are you saying that you don’t know any of those women? That you’ve never met them, drugged them, or raped them?” Wrath asked casually.
“That’s exactly what I’m saying. That’s terrible. Are you saying that happened to all those women?” the bastard asked, feigning shock tinged with disgust.
“That’s all we’ve found so far, but yes. And do you know what they have in common?” I asked.
“What?”
“They all lived in the vicinity of where you’ve been living for years. They all had active gym memberships at gyms where you delivered items for various employers. You moved around and changed jobs a lot, Sinclair. Care to explain why?” Crusher asked.
“I-I was trying to see if I liked living in other towns or states. There was nothing illegal about that. As for changing jobs, sometimes it was because I moved. Other times I got a better job or my supervisors were toxic.”
“So, you’re saying it had nothing to do with these women? And you don’t recognize any of them,” Wrath asked again.
“I told you, I’ve never laid eyes on those women. I don’t know them. I never drugged or raped them,” Sinclair swore more firmly.
“Alright, well, damn, I guess we might’ve made a mistake, guys. Shit. Okay, before we let you go, will you look at one more thing for us?” Shadow asked, sounding uncertain.
“Of course,” the raping bastard said eagerly. He thought he had fooled us.
Shadow reached inside the opposite side of his cut and brought out a single folded paper.
He unfolded it and held it up. It was Elodie.
Sinclair froze, and his eyes widened. He said nothing and never twitched.
His gaze remained glued to her, and the total expression of adoration that overcame his features was clear.
He figuratively ate her with his eyes. He examined her photo as if he were memorizing it.
Suddenly, Shadow folded it up. That elicited a reaction from our prisoner. His body jerked against the restraints. He clenched his teeth together, and anger flared in his gaze as he snarled at Shadow.
“Don’t put that away! I need to see her!”
Shadow shook his head and put it back in his pocket. “Nah, there’s no need to see it any longer. If you don’t know the others, you won’t know her. She’s not important,” he replied as he shrugged, turned his back on our captive audience, and took a step as if to walk off.
“Noooo! Bring her back!” Patton Sinclair screamed, trying to lunge off the table,
I lunged forward and leaned over him. I got close and yelled, “Why? Why should he bring her back? She’s nobody. She’s nothing to you. You don’t know her. You’ve never needed her the way he does,” I taunted. I have no idea what made me do it and say things that way, but it broke something.
“Elodie is mine! She’s always and forever mine. She tries to punish me, but I see her. She keeps hiding, and I find her. I knew the very first time we were together that she was meant to be mine, forever,” Sinclair hollered.
The maniacal look on his face and the craziness in his eyes told me this guy was beyond nuts.