***
I lean against the cold cement wall, waiting for Charlie to wake up. After Dani and Cherry left, I called the boys and let them know what had gone down. Doc rushed to the apartment and said Sara had lost a lot of blood but it was mostly flesh wounds. She has Sara at the club now, looking over her and Dani. The boys and I scooped up Charlie, threw him in the back of the club’s van, and brought him here where I should have brought him years ago: an old warehouse with a basement. It smells like mold down here and is ten times colder than outside. It’s small and has only one light, a wire holding a single light bulb in the middle of the room right above Charlie. He’s passed out and bound to an old metal chair. He looks like shit. His Mohawk is grown out, and he looks like he hasn’t showered in weeks, maybe months, wearing dried blood of every color on his clothes. The last thing our club needs is to be associated with the Valentine’s Day Massacre; they’ll never believe we didn’t have anything to do with it.
Valentine’s Day… fuck, that’s tomorrow.
“What the fuck?” Charlie mumbles, waking up and snapping me from my thoughts.
“Welcome!” Bobby yells, slapping Charlie on the back. Charlie winces and looks at me, dried blood staining his forehead where Dani hit him. I know he would have killed Dani brutally, and he would have hurt my son if Bobby hadn’t picked him up.
“You’ve left quite the mess for us to clean up. I should have buried your ass a long time ago,” I grit, scowling as I push off the wall. The only reason I hadn’t was because he split town. Bull told me to let it be, so I did.
Charlie smirks as he stares at me, his eyes holding a lifeless presence. I know I have my own list of sins and make my own path of evil, but Charlie is past any of that. He’s not grounded; he’s not sane. He has no clue what he has done, no remorse.
“You look at me like I’m a monster, but how am I any different than you?” Charlie sneers. I look up at Bobby who shrugs, just as confused as I am.
“What do you mean?” I question.
“You hunt people down, kill them without a second thought. How am I any less of a monster than you?” Charlie asks, tilting his head to the side waiting for my reply.
“How do you know that?” Bobby questions, stepping up beside me. There are only a few people in the club who know I was a contract killer. Charlie was not one of them.
Charlie snorts and looks toward the wall.
I sniff and cross my arms. “So you have stalking to add to your list of derangement.”
“I would have been the best brother The Devil’s Dust had,” Charlie informs, his voice holding a crazed tone. Bobby laughs, but I don’t. We almost made this guy a brother; I had trusted him.
“Clearly,” I remark sarcastically. “Not only did you get my girl kidnapped when you were a prospect, today you tied her up and I’m sure you would have killed her given the chance.” Charlie chuckles, nodding his head.
“He’s fucking psycho,” Bobby remarks, shaking his head.
I smirk and turn my face downward. Charlie has clearly lost his shit.
“You like to tie people up, huh?” I ask, walking up to him. He doesn’t respond but just keeps laughing, the sound echoing in the basement.
Bobby thrusts his fists in Charlie’s face, splitting the flesh on his cheek.
Charlie’s head snaps to the side, but he doesn’t stop laughing.
“I’m going to kill every one of you,” Charlie gasps between his laughter. “That bitch Dani being the worst of them yet.” His threats make me angry to the point I clench my jaw, and I see Bobby reach for his gun, ready to kill Charlie. I put my hand up, stopping him; a bullet to the head is way too easy for this fucker. I grab the piece of rope off the table I used to tie him up with and the knife I found on him in my apartment. I walk up to Charlie who is still laughing and clearly delusional. I wrap the rope around his neck and pull tightly, hoping to strike fear into him. His laugh takes on a hyena pitch, not fearing I may end his life as I wrap the ends of the rope around the knife’s handle, locking the twine in place. I twist the knife counter-clockwise, tightening the rope against Charlie’s throat. He continues to laugh maliciously, his tone agitating me. I grit my teeth and tighten the twine around his neck even more, his face taking on a darker hue from the lack of oxygen. The fact I may kill him not affecting him, he is still wracking with uncontrollable laughter.
I look at Bobby, my eyes raised with disturbance. The twine is literally sawing through his neck, and he continues to laugh.
“Do it,” Bobby suggests, shrugging.