Chapter 32
FINGER
It’s going to be a busy day. Pres has called church for right after lunch. Officers Cap, Rides, Scalpel, and Hot Rod along with myself have also been called to the shed first thing. Everyone knows why that is, and we all know it needs done so we can call it finished.
I followed Cilla to work to be sure she was good. That has happened a few days lately. It seems there are a lot of things stopping me from taking her in the truck just now. The good thing is I followed her, and it’s not long before Jet will arrive to take over her protection.
Walking into the kitchen at the clubhouse, I grab a piece of toast from the counter as I pass, and I make sure I give Bessy a bright smile and kiss her cheek as thanks, which has her blushing to her hair roots.
I give a tap on Pres’ office door and walk inside. I’m the last officer to enter and quickly take a seat. I swallow the last piece of toast and blink when Cap gives me a nasty look. “What?” I ask him with all innocence.
“Why are you eating now?” Cap snaps.
Frowning because I don’t know what he means. “Come again?”
“We are going to torture that asshole in a minute, and you are eating?” Cap again snaps.
Hot Rod laughs. “Oh, dear, does a little bitty blood make our Cap feel sickly?”
We all chuckle when Cap gives Hot Rod a nasty look, but it doesn’t stop me from responding. “Look, blood and gore don’t bother me anymore. If you can’t stomach it, Cap, I can do all the gory shit...”
“I never said I couldn’t do it. I’ve done as much as you have, so don’t even think that I can’t cut it. I can do whatever the fuck you can...”
Tracker has obviously had enough. “Cap! Shut the fuck up.”
The office quiets immediately, and you could hear a pin drop at this point.
We all look at Pres to see what is going to be said or happen next.
Before Pres can say anything, a light tap on the door grabs our attention.
Rides who is next to the door opens it slightly before stepping out of the office and closing the door behind him.
The door opens and Rides steps back inside with a middle-aged man who looks like his world has ended. My gut churns at the sight of him, and I dread to hear what he has to say.
Rides speaks directly to Tracker. “Pres, this is Alan Foreman. He is the father of the young man who died after using the drug Maddog supplied and Byron was selling on campus. He has a request.”
Tracker looks at Alan Foreman and waits for him to speak.
“My son had a bright future. He was a good person and was going to do good things. This filth needs exterminating, and I’d like to do it.
I don’t know if you have Maddog Hughes, and yes, I know who he is because I’ve done my homework.
If you have him, I want in to finally rid the world of him,” Alan says all this with calmness but firmness.
Anyone can see how much he wants the murderer of his son to die, and rightly so in my opinion.
I want him dead, and he did nothing personal to me.
Tracker nods, showing understanding. “You know if we allow you to know or see anything, you are an accomplice, and if you talk afterwards, we’d come for you.”
“I can do the deed so none of you have to dirty your hands. I would never talk because I’m grateful to you for taking the scum off the streets,” Alan holds his hand out for Pres to shake, and he does so knowing this man wants closure. We can all see it.
Walking out to the shed, Alan alongside Cap, and both behind Tracker. The door opens and the two prospects step out. I give them the nod to go back to the clubhouse where they will be ready to eat, drink, and more than likely disappear to rest.
Maddog is tied to the chair, naked as the day he was born. He’s pissed all over the chair and it’s running down his legs. We all take a stand around the room. Rides picks up the hose and hoses the asshole down. He screeches and complains, but we don’t listen.
I look at Alan. “This is the brave bastard that supplies drugs. He pisses himself when he’s threatened. Stinks in here thanks to him, but hey, we have a drain under his chair so any piss and blood washes away easily.”
Thankfully, Alan cottons on to what I’m doing and responds. “They are always brave until they get caught, then they show they are cowards. I bet when you grabbed him, he hid behind his men.”
“Oh, he did that and tried to come out fighting, but you know his fighting skills are nonexistent, so he was an easy grab.” I look at Maddog who is doing his best not to speak. He is shaking quite a lot as the chair is rattling where it is bolted down.
Alan steps forward and looks Maddog right in the eye. “I’m a father who has lost his son. A son who is fifty times more worthy of breathing than you are but is dead thanks to you. I’m here to see you finished, and I’ll piss on your grave when you are dead.”
“Oh, there won’t be a grave, Alan.” Pres states calmly. “We have an acid pit, so we’ll chuck his nasty carcass in that, and he’ll be gone in no time.”
“No, you can’t do that. I can pay you…” Rides walks over to Maddog and punches him so hard his head snaps around and he loses consciousness.
“Impressive,” Alan says as he steps forward and closer to Maddog. “Do we really want his blood all over us? Do we want to waste our lives on a piece of shit that shouldn’t even be breathing?”
Pres looks around the room for our reactions. I give him a shrug before responding. “Well, I’ve better things I could be doing, and we have church after lunch, Pres.”
Alan holds his hand out to Tracker who pauses for a moment before reaching out his hand to Cap.
Cap places a gun in Tracker's hand, one that we know will have nothing identifiable on it and will also be in the acid pit.
Tracker gives his hard President look towards Alan, but Alan remains calm, waiting for the weapon to be handed to him.
Maddog is coming around, making small noises, but he’s not fully aware of what is happening. He doesn’t get to know either because Alan places the weapon directly over Maddog’s forehead and pulls the trigger.
“I hate it when brains get splattered,” Hot Rod comments in a bored tone, and we all give him a nod of agreement. It is a nasty thing when you get the starburst splatter.
“Thank you,” Alan states calmly, and we can all hear how sincere he is. “I can sleep at night knowing that piece of shit is finally done.”
As we walk back into the common room Keys is heading towards the kitchen. “Everything good, Pres?”
“Yeah, it’s done,” Pres replies.
“It didn’t take you long. Did he have a health issue to start with?” Keys is genuinely asking.
“Nah, he met Alan,” Pres chuckles and continues walking.
Keys looks around at all of us, one after another, “Who is Alan?”
I leave Rides to explain and head to my room where I need to freshen up ready for church. I can bet my hog Pres is going to call church soon.
I was right because half-an-hour later I’m sitting in church ready for it to begin.
Some of the brothers are at work, so have the leniency to catch up with things later.
Pres opens the meeting and quickly explains what happened with Maddog and Alan.
It amuses most of us because if we are honest, we didn’t want to waste our time or effort on scum like Maddog Hughes.
Coin speaks out, gaining everyone’s attention. “I’ve spoken with Jeremy and he has set up a new crew to assist us here. Pres wants to meet the crew before they are allowed in the clubhouse, so we are going to meet on the property next to us that we’ve put an offer on.”
I quickly jump on this because I’m hoping to be the first to have a house on that land. “Any sign that the nephew will sell to us?”
“Yeah, he is speaking directly with me as I told him we didn’t want to pay money to a realtor when we could do everything ourselves.
It saves him a packet of money, and us too.
He said he’d check out the value of properties in this area and then get back to me.
I reckon he’ll sell. We are, after all, giving him a damn friendly offer,” Coin replies.
“By that, I mean an offer that is right for the size of the land.”
“We’ll meet his crew next week, and if I like the look of them, we may have ourselves some new working prospects,” Pres laughs, and I know he has had them checked out by Keys already so he’s playing his cards close to his chest at this point.
Books taps the table with his knuckles, looking around the room as he speaks. “The charity run won’t happen until next year. Most of our allied clubs already have the charity events organized for this year, but I got them tagged for next year for your run.”
“That’s a fuck,” Whistle mumbles. “I was looking forward to getting on the road.”
“Yeah, I think most of us were looking forward to the run. But we can do it next year,” Rides throws out, but the sour look on his face shows how disappointed he really is.
“Joker, how are things going with the tattoo building?” Pres asks as he leans back in his seat, looking like he has something he wants to say, but it’s not time yet.
Joker quickly responds, “We will be finished by the end of the weekend. With the four of us, we have been able to get things moved along. Scribe has been working fourteen-hour days as he has painted every inch of the place. It is in good condition, and it seems Avery had kept maintenance up on the place so nothing major needs to be done.”
“The offer I made Avery was accepted, and I expect the final paperwork in the next couple of days. The building is ours except for the rubber stamp,” Coin informs. We are all happy about this business, as it’s going to lead to good things in the future for the club.
Brewer gains everyone’s attention when he addresses Joker. “Does Scribe have appointments? You know when he opens, he needs work immediately. If he doesn’t have appointments ready for the start, maybe we should do some kind of advertising?”
“He has a full schedule of appointments. He is well known and has never had to advertise himself. He has a five thousand following on his TikTok account.” Coin looks smug that he has the answers.
Mumbling around the room grows as everyone shows how satisfied they are that we have Scribe onboard. He is sure an excellent addition to the prospect team, and will make a hell of a full brother, eventually.
Pres speaks out with the room becoming quiet so fast anyone looking in would be laughing. “I have seen Tank. Yeah, I’ve seen him in his misty form. He looks okay, too. No sign of injuries, so it seems when we die, we get rid of the shit that killed us.”
Yeah, the entire room is staring at Pres like he has lost his mind. Me! I smirk right before letting out a deep, rumbling laugh. “You had Cilla call him, didn’t you?”
“Too right I did. I’m not having a fuckin’ prospect see something I’ve not seen. Fuck that. Cilla held her own well in the discussion,” Pres smirks, and we all know something went down before she agreed to Pres’ demand.
“What happened?” I ask, thinking, ‘shit, I hope Cilla didn’t get us both in trouble.’
Pres chuckles, “Well, your old lady blackmailed me. She was okay to call Tank, if, and I say if, I would agree to your suite here having two bedrooms because she wants one for the baby. I would have agreed anyway, Finger, but don’t tell Cilla that.
She was mighty impressed that she held me to ransom. ”
The brothers chuckle and mumble at how feisty Cilla is, and they’d all like one like her, but without the ability, because you know, they don’t want ghosts in the house.
“I also saw Pyro’s flame. It was just hanging in midair.
A single, perfect flame. Pyro still has it, brothers, but better than he had it down here.
When he was alive, he had to have a blowtorch or some other shit to make fire.
Up there he just flicks his fingers or hand and has a flame, or flames.
I don’t know, but it’s cool as shit. I’m thinking when I die, I need me something like that,” Pres is beaming at the thought of what he could have on the other side.
I’m sitting here with my mouth hanging open, because honestly, who would have thought Tracker was into paranormal shit? Cilla has a lot to answer for, and I hope other clubs don’t find out about all this or we’ll suffer shit comments, or requests to see the dead.