Chapter 22 #2
Scott is too busy typing something into his phone to answer, and the distraction allows me to look from the back seat and attempt to see what he's doing, but the bastard has one of those blackout screens on his phone, making it impossible to see what he's up to.
"Money is in the guns," I say in an effort to get the guy back on task, or at a minimum, talking and revealing secrets.
Scott scoffs once again, and the noise grates on my nerves. He almost sounds like an English bulldog sneezing or having trouble breathing.
"The guns are currency for bigger and better things," he says, tucking his phone away. "We ready to do this?"
As talkative as he’s been on the drive up here, he's more than willing to share information on hitting these hunting cabins, but also a little tight-lipped on the other workings of their activities.
We can presume all day long that the bigger and better things include trafficking women, but until he says it or we witness it happening, it's not proof.
"Born ready," Zayne says as he opens the passenger side door and climbs out.
I follow suit, making sure to gently press the door closed rather than closing it like I normally would if I weren't about to commit numerous felonies.
Scott is just as quiet as he gets out of the car, taking a look around before unlocking the trunk so we can grab weapons.
He seems a little fidgety, and I notice a hint of paranoia in his eyes when the light from inside the trunk shines on his face.
"You have concerns?" I ask as I reach in for a rifle.
A handgun would probably suffice in a situation like this, but I guess they like the show of force.
"Nope," he says, reaching for his own weapon. "Bobby said you guys did great the other night, but this is my show. I take the lead, and you follow me. Got it?"
"Sounds good," Zayne says, stepping around me to pull a rifle from the trunk. "Is this the only place we're hitting tonight?"
"Only one," Scott confirms. "And that's good because I have shit to do."
We met this guy at midnight. Between meeting up at The Garage and gearing up from a room stocked with more weapons than I thought I'd ever see outside of The League's compound, it's going on half past one in the morning at this point.
As the saying goes, nothing good happens after midnight; there's no telling what Scott has planned after this.
Maybe we'll get lucky, and he'll invite us along so we can gather more intel and evidence on the group.
"Follow my lead," he reminds the two of us before crouching low as if he's entering a war zone as he makes his way to the back door of the cabin.
Zayne follows behind him, and I take up the tail, hiding a grin when Zayne looks back at me, his eyes rolling in the moonlight at how ridiculous Scott looks. The guy has obviously played too much Call of Duty.
Stupidly, the back door is unlocked, but I guess that's good for us. Knowing we're entering a place where the men are armed, it's best that they have no pre-warning of our arrival. Zayne and I are trying to get a job done, and it doesn't include getting shot because these guys know we're coming.
"Two trucks," Zayne whispers as he scans the room.
This cabin is no different from any of the others I've seen. It's almost bare-bones, only the essentials needed for a weekend hunting trip. There are no comforts of home, no decor. Simple. Efficient.
The set of queen-sized bunk beds on the far wall only reveals one lump on the bottom bunk. The top bunk doesn't even have sheets, blankets, or pillows.
I swallow, freezing when I realize what we're looking at, and in that same moment, I hear Zayne whisper, "Fuck" under his breath as he comes to the same conclusion.
Things just got a lot more serious.
"I should've fucking known," Scott snaps, his voice booming through the cabin, loud enough to wake the neighbors, so it's no surprise when the single lump moves, forming two separate people. "Look what we have here, guys."
With his rifle pointed precariously at the men, it's more than a little unstable when Scott pulls his left hand from the weapon to flip the light on.
Although the soft amber glow of the light isn't as startling as an LED bulb's, the sudden flash makes us all blink as our eyes adjust.
The men in the bed already look traumatized as they blink in our direction, their brains fighting to come back online after being woken this way.
"This is actually better," Scott says, both hands now back on his rifle as he inches toward the men who are trying to create as much distance between the two of them as possible.
It's clear they're concerned about their safety and fearful that they've been discovered doing something they've probably been hiding from others in their lives.
"Better?" Zayne asks, a look of disgust on his face as he glares at the men.
If I didn't know him, I'd think he was just as repulsed at the sight of two men in bed together as Scott seems to be.
"How is finding two men in bed together better? I could puke at the sight of them. It's a fucking abomination."
"In my experience," Scott says as he looks around the room. "Men with something to hide always buy the best and most expensive shit to make it look like they're actually doing what they tell their wives they're doing when they leave for the weekend to fuck another guy in the ass."
I chance a look around the room, risking shit turning sideways in a second to notice the expensive gun cases leaning up against the far wall. They look brand new, as if they've never been unzipped while out on a trail.
Heartache and sorrow for these two swirl through me, making my stomach turn at the idea that society still isn't ready to accept them for who they are, and at the fact that they have to lie just to behave in a way that feels right to them.
"I bet your bitches at home don't have a clue, do they?" Scott snaps, inching so close to the man on the outside of the bed that the tip of his rifle jabs the man in his cheek.
Tears stream down his cheeks as he pulls in a ragged breath.
"Where's your phone?" Scott growls, jabbing the man with the muzzle of his weapon once again. "Maybe we should give them a call?"
Surprisingly, the man looks more terrified of that than he does of getting shot, and I can't help but think that's the saddest thing I've ever seen.
The second man, the one closest to the wall, narrows his eyes, and I know there's a real possibility that this robbery can quickly turn into a double homicide if he challenges Scott.
"You got this?" Scott asks Zayne.
When my partner nods, never taking his eyes off the men, Scott turns his attention back to the room, looking around as if seeking something specific.
Zayne keeps his eyes on the men, and I keep my eyes on Scott, knowing he's the real threat in the room. I spot the broom the exact second he does, and my blood runs cold.
I shift my weight from one foot to the other, drawing Zayne's attention to Scott as he crosses the room, his long, skinny fingers wrapping around the broom handle.
Zayne becomes aware just as quickly how things have shifted in Scott's mind. He no longer cares about procuring the weapons. The man has something to prove, and I'll burn this mission before I stand back and watch as he assaults these men with that fucking thing.
I take a step closer to him, causing Zayne to move as well, putting himself between Scott and me.
With a gentle shake of his head, he issues me a warning, but the man has to know that there are certain things I won't fucking stand for.
It makes me question just how focused he is on the final goal of our mission to sit back and watch what we both clearly know is going to take place.
"Get the guns," Zayne tells me before turning his attention to Scott.
"Wanna have a little fun?" the man asks, his voice sinister as he walks forward with the broom in his hand.
One man on the bed begins to sob, but I don't look in his direction.
"We don't have time for that shit," Zayne growls.
"You got a problem with it?" Scott snarls as he steps up, chest nearly rubbing against Zayne's in a challenge.
"These two disgusting men getting exactly what they deserve?
" Zayne asks in a tone that, if he hadn't had my cock in his hand earlier in the day, I'd believe he was just as sickened as Scott at what we've found in this cabin.
"No, but we passed another cabin on the way up here.
Think about it. Would our guy back home be more proud that we scored double in one night or that we taught these two a lesson? "
Scott pulls his eyes from Zayne, looking over my partner's shoulder at the two men. I can see the struggle in his eyes, and then his demeanor shifts just a fraction. A hint of relief clouds his eyes as he takes half a step back, his grip on the broom loosening.
I'm not a fucking mental health professional, but I've experienced enough in wartime to understand the man was going to do what he thought was expected of him in this situation, even if it was something he didn't want to do.
It's not enough to make me believe we may have an ally on our side, but it's enough of an opening to prevent some very awful shit from happening here tonight.
"Let's get what we came for and hit that other cabin. Besides," Zayne says, taking a step back to ease the tension between the two of them. "You got other shit to do, right?"
Scott's throat works on a swallow, and it seems like a millennium passes before he dips his head in agreement.
I know better than to feel completely relieved, but my pulse slows as we gather the loot we came to get. Zayne works on tying the men up, never dropping the repulsed look from his face. The men give him complete compliance, knowing what they could be facing if they fight or argue with him.
I can tell by how loose the restraints are that he's well aware they can be pulled off with minimal effort once we're gone.
I also know that, given what they've been up to here, there's very little chance these men will even call the cops to report the burglary, knowing that if they report us and we're caught, their actions could be called to light.
That's how victims who don't report crimes against them are made.
I push back the nearly debilitating sadness, knowing there was a time in my life that I might've acted the same way. My biggest fear growing up was my parents discovering what I was doing, and I would've put up with God only knows what to keep from being discovered.
Scott turns back to the men, a rifle case slung over his shoulder, right before exiting the cabin.
"Don’t let me catch the two of you on my mountain again," he warns before walking outside.
I gather the rest of their gear, not bothering to look back because these two men aren't a threat to me. The real threat is headed to the car, and I'd be a fool to take my eyes off of him before we're clear of this place.
The second cabin is thankfully empty of people, but we make a decent enough score on their gear that I let myself believe Scott has given up on the idea of verifying he's a real man by assaulting a couple of gay guys to prove it.
"Bobby is going to be really happy with this," Scott says, an excited giddiness in his tone as he drops the stolen gear into the trunk before pulling his phone from his pocket. "But we still have time to go back and take care of those other guys."
"I have no doubt they've already made contact with the police," Zayne mutters. "Plus, I'm fucking exhausted."
As if controlled by words, Scott opens his mouth to yawn, his arms lifting over his head, stretching with a grunt that just rubs me the wrong way.
I'm pulled from my consideration of how easy it would be to hide a fucking body in the woods when he speaks again.
"Yeah," Scott agrees. "Jail isn't on my agenda tonight."
He closes the car's trunk before heading back to the driver's seat.
"Bobby is going to be really excited about that AR-15 we just scored," he says.
I climb into the back seat, my ass hitting the stained cloth as he drops in behind the wheel.
"You don't think he'll be mad we went off script?"
"Naw," Scott says, shaking his head as he cranks the car. "Like I was saying earlier, the guns are great, but that's not where we make the most money."
Instead of questioning or even engaging, I sit back and watch the trees roll by as we make our way off the mountain, taking the same path we took on the way up here because one of the most frustrating things about Tennessee roads is that there's usually only one way in and one way out of any given location.
He doesn't slow down as we drive past the first cabin we hit tonight, and I do my best to keep my breath of relief from being heard as we turn left off that road and continue toward town.
"The most money we make is with the women and girls," he continues.
Riding the high of breaking the law is clearly making him less worried about giving us too much information, but that's how criminals' minds work.
When you do something illegal with someone, they see you as part of a brotherhood, and then the chance of secrets between you and them is lessened.
It's no different fighting in a war alongside other Marines.
Even thinking of the similarities between myself as a soldier and these degenerates makes my skin crawl.
"We could go back and grab those guys," Scott offers, making me snap my eyes in his direction. "But our clients aren't really into watching two guys fuck, and Bobby said last week that the demand for snuff films is on the decline."
He reveals the group's involvement in murder for entertainment, just as he would if he were explaining why the price of cheese on burgers at The Garage has gone up.
"Yeah," Zayne says, his eyes focused on the passenger side window. "I'm not really into wasting time and resources on shit that doesn't further our cause."