1. Grim #2
He still looked bewildered when I turned and started back down the hall.
I was beginning to think he was going to pass on my offering when I heard the door open.
I glanced over my shoulder and relief washed over me as I watched Beckett disappear inside the room.
I left him to it and went to the kitchen for some coffee.
Maverick and his boys were off doing their thing, so I did my best to just stay out of the way. I went out to my truck and cleaned it out. I tossed the crate and plastic into their burn pile, then tossed in a match. Once it was lit and the flames were rolling, I headed into the bar.
I grabbed a beer from the cooler and kicked back at one of the corner tables. I pulled out my phone and saw that I had a message from Tyrone. He was one of our distributors, and while he’d always come through for us, there always seemed to be some kind of drama that came with the take.
Apparently, this time was no different, and he’d sent me a cryptic message about a possible delay. We didn’t do delays, so I gave him a call. As soon as Tyrone answered, I snapped, “Are we gonna have a problem?”
“No, man. I got it all under control,” he assured me. “It’s all here and ready for you and your boys to come pick up.”
“And what about your message last night?”
“It was nothing. I got it handled.”
“You sure about that?”
“Yeah, man. It’s all good.”
There was something about his tone that didn’t sit right with me.
Something was up, and that pissed me the hell off.
“You’re telling me the goods are there and are up to par, and if that’s the case, we’ll take our fucking money and go.
But if it turns out you’re lying and we got some shit like we did last time, then I’ll take every fucking dime of that take, and I’ll use it to fuck you up.
I’ll go after your crew, one by one, and I will mess them up in ways you can’t begin to imagine. ”
“It’s all good, man. You’ll see.”
“You better fucking hope so.”
I ended the call and grabbed my beer, kicking it back for a long drink. Once I’d finished It off, I stood and tossed the empty bottle in the trash. Rooster and Savage were still at the bar, so I walked over and asked, “How you guys making it today?”
“Can’t complain. What about you?”
“I’ll be better when I can get back home and wrangle in a couple of assholes, but I can’t do that until I sort out this shit with Beckett.”
“Maybe this thing today will help out in that department.”
“I don’t know, Savage. I’ve got a feeling he’s not gonna let it go, but maybe working this guy over will do him some good.”
“How long has he been back there with him?”
“An hour.” I glanced over at the clock. “Maybe two.”
“Might be time to go check on him and see how things are going?”
I nodded, then followed them both back out to Wrath’s workroom. When we arrived, the place was completely cleared out. All that was left was Michael’s body hanging from the rafters, and I had to give it to Beckett. He’d done good. He’d given the guy exactly what he deserved.
Savage and I remained at the window while Rooster went in to see about Beck.
He was sitting on a stool in the corner, smoking a cigarette, and he didn’t seem to notice Rooster had walked in.
He called out to him, but Beckett didn’t respond.
So, he walked over to him and placed his hand on his shoulder, trying once again to pull him from his thoughts.
He didn’t speak.
He simply nodded and kept staring at what was left of Deshawn.
His wrists were bound in chains, and he was hanging from a rafter in the ceiling. He still had on his shirt, but his pants were down around his ankles. There were multiple lacerations all over his body, and blood was dripping down from beneath the hem of his shirt.
Both of his shoulders were dislocated, and his head hung low with his chin resting on his chest. He didn’t look like he was still conscious or even breathing, but even if he was, I wouldn’t be able to tell.
Both of his eyes were completely swollen shut, and his face was covered in blood and bruises.
Rooster said something else to him, and eventually, Beckett muttered a response. They spoke for a moment longer, then Beckett got up, and his eyes never left the ground as he walked out of the room. He walked past me and Savage and muttered, “Gonna take a shower.”
“Take your time.”
Once he was gone, I nodded to the window and said to Savage, “We’re gonna need to take care of him.”
“We’ll handle it.”
“Good deal. I appreciate you boys taking care of Beckett these past few months. We’re always available if you need us to return the favor.”
“I’ll be sure to let Prez know.”
Savage and Wrath gave me a hand loading Beckett’s things, and after giving him some time to say his goodbyes, we were on the road home. We’d gotten a later start than I’d hoped, but there was little I could do about it. Things had to be done.
We shared a little small talk along the way, but it was short-lived. Beckett grew quiet and remained that way all the way to South Dakota. We stopped for the night, ate and filled up, and then, we were back at it.
After a few hours, the silence was getting to me, so I asked him, “How’s it going over there, kid?”
“It’s going.”
I glanced down, and I couldn’t help but notice the cuts and bruises on his knuckles. As the club’s enforcer, I’d had my own fair share of wrecked knuckles and knew they hurt like a bitch. “You good?”
“Yeah.” Beckett kept his focus on the view out the side window. “Just ready to get home.”
I glanced down at the GPS as I told him, “I hate to break it to you, but we’re still about eight hours out.”
“Figured as much.”
“We’ll stop in an hour or so to fill up and grab a bite to eat.”
He didn’t respond.
I didn’t expect him to. The kid was a million miles away. I didn’t want to push. He’d been through a lot over the past few months, and it had been a hell of a ride.