“Good to see you made it out safe, Prez.” He held out his hand for me to shake. I glowered at his outstretched arm and thought of him back in my room, forbidding Mae to bathe me. My lip curled in disgust. She’s my fuckin’ woman.
“Prez, come on, brother. I was wrong. I get it now. She’s yours,” he said just for us to hear. I reluctantly reached out to grip his hand. My eyes said it all to him. Back the fuck off Mae or we’ll have problems. Okay?
The brother nodded his head. He knew what I was saying.
“You been fuckin’ your bitch?” Viking said from behind me, sniffing the air. He looked at me and smiled. “I can always smell new pussy, and you’re stinking of that shit, Prez!” He laughed loud for everyone to hear.
Rider ripped his hand away from mine and he staggered back, slumping to his seat, eyes down. The brother was in a whole world of pain.
Ky appeared at my shoulder. A second or two later, Viking was knocked out on the floor.
“Shit, Ky!” Viking shouted from the ground, rubbing his chin. “Stop with the fuckin’ punching!”
“Then start shutting the fuck up!” Ky shouted back.
I signaled for the brothers to move in. Ky stood beside me, ready to translate, as the brothers watched us with alert expressions.
Pit’s a rat, I signed, as Ky’s voice carried the intel round the room.
Deathly silence.
I’ve thought we’ve had one for a while now. Ky found the evidence today. Of the whole fuckin’ thing. Leaked details on the Russian deal, the ride out shooting, and the Nazis near-attempt on our compound tonight.
“Who’s he working for? The Feds? Another MC? Mexicans?” Viking asked. The idiot shit gone, stone-cold killer in its place.
I shook my head. Don’t know. Ky called Pit in. He should be here—” The sound of a bike rolling into the yard stopped me dead. Right about fuckin’ now, it seems.
Flame growled and began punching his fist in the other hand. “Is he mine? Please say he’s mine. I want him to be mine.”
The door opened and Flame flew at Pit, the prospect didn’t even see the first fist coming… or the second… or the third. Flame picked Pit up off the floor, his feet dangling as he was smacked up against the wall.
“You fuckin’ piece of scum!” Flame ground out through clenched teeth. “Did you think you could turn coat without us finding out? Without us stripping off your skin, piece by piece to eat your flesh for barbecue?”
Pit’s face reddened and shock spread all over his features. “I… I don’t know what you’re talking about! Flame, I don’t!”
Get him to the shed. Now. Ky voiced my command.
In minutes, we were all in the shed out back, Flame and AK strapping Pit to the chair in the center of the room.
Pit looked my way. “Prez, honestly, believe me. I don’t know what you think I’ve done, but I ain’t no rat. I’m all in. This club’s my life. I ain’t got nothing else.”
Ky flew at Pit, his hands braced on each arm of the slaughter chair. “Found shit in your room, brother. Security tapes and a cell phone with messages showing dates of all the drops, the location of the ride out, everything. Tank, Smiler, and Bull are out tracing the receiving number now, but I’m thinking it’s gonna come back to the Feds or Senator Collins. Am I right?”
Pit paled. “I don’t know what you’re talking about!” he screamed. “What tapes? What cell? I didn’t have shit in my room!”
I walked to my knife cabinet, feeling Pit’s eyes on me the entire way. Fucker was lying, his eyes twitching all over the place.
“Styx. You have to believe me, please…” he pleaded.
Finding my Bundeswehr knife, I moved before him as Flame ripped open Pit’s shirt, his thin body gonna prove all kinds a’ interesting to carve up. Less fat, harder to miss organs. Then again, he was gonna die tonight regardless. So who gave a shit?
Spinning the handle in my hands, I pressed the tip to his sternum and began dragging it down, the stench of copper filling the room, Pit’s screams ricocheting off the high walls.
I stood back after a few minutes admiring my signature Hangmen “H” now forever imbedded in his chest. Now everyone will know who he fucked with. Flame ripped the knife from my hand, wiping the blood across his now bare and scarred torso, laughing hysterically.
He got in Pit’s face. “Who’re you working for?”
Pit’s head rolled to the side and he puked all over the floor. Flame held Pit’s cheeks back upright. “Who are you working for, motherfucker!?”
“No… no one. I… swear. I SWEAR!”
The shed doors burst open and Bull, Tank, and Smiler walked through. “Number was traced to… have a guess…” Tank said glaring at Pit.
Seething, I spat at Pit’s feet.
“The great fuckin’ Senator Collins! Our insider in the office tells me several men in suits have been turning up once a week for the last few months to ‘do business.’ Insider thinks they are ATF related or maybe mafia,” Tank informed.
Mafia? I signed.
Tank shrugged. “Could explain the shift in activity. New blood. New tactics. It sure ain’t nothin’ we’ve seen before.”
Stomping over to Pit, I took my knife back off Flame and held it to Pit’s throat.
“Prez, it ain’t true,” he croaked out. Clenching my fists, I turned and threw the knife into the wall.
Glancing over my shoulder, I gave the nod to Ky to take down the rat. One by one, the brothers had their fun until Pit was just a bloodied heap on the chair.
I looked over to Rider, who was leaning against the wall, fury in his gaze as he watched Pit. I held up my hand to stop the brothers.
Ky whistled and the room fell silent. I walked back to Pit, holding a new boning knife. His teeth were littered on the floor, eyes sealed shut with blood, his arms and ribs broken in pieces.
Circling Pit’s chair, not once did I take my eyes off Rider, who shifted nervously in my constant glare. Stopping behind Pit, I lifted my knife and plunged it into his right shoulder. Why? Some shit I’d read the Romans did.