After I got Henley settled in our room, I set out to find Stitch. No one had seen him since last night when Guardrail brought in the motherfucker that killed Skidrow. He’d been working on him in the warehouse for the past twenty-four hours, which let me know that Stitch was taking his time working this guy over. There was no telling what hell he’d put that man through, but I knew when it was all said and done, he’d have all the information we needed to get these guys once and for all.
“Have you been by to check on Stitch?” I asked Cotton. He was busy working in his office, and seemed surprised to see me.
“I thought you were still at the hospital. How’s Henley?” he asked.
“She’s doing better. They released her this morning, and now she’s resting in my room,” I explained. Until this morning, I hadn’t really missed not having a place of my own, but now I was thinking it was time to start looking for a house. I wanted Henley to have a home that she could be proud of, one that was close to her school, so she could finish up her classes and graduate.
“Good. I’m glad she’s doing better. I hate to admit it, but the girl saved our asses last night. We have our first real lead because of her.”
“Should’ve never happened.”
“True, but it did. That’s on you, Maverick. You’re the Sergeant of Arms for a reason. I expect you to keep this club safe. Make sure it doesn’t happen again. You know I like Henley. I think she’s a good woman and she’s been good for you. But if she pulls a stunt like this again, there will be consequences,” he warned.
“I’ll see that she doesn’t.”
“I hope so. Now, let’s go check on our boy. I want to see what he’s been able to get out of our guest.”
I followed Cotton to the back of the warehouse where Stitch had created his playroom. The overwhelming stench of death hit me as soon as we walked through the door, making my stomach churn from the smell. Stitch was sitting on an old, wooden stool in the corner of the room smoking a cigarette, and he didn’t seem to notice that we had walked in.
“Stitch?” I called out to him. When he didn’t answer, I walked over to him, placing my hand on his shoulder and said, “How you making it, brother?”
“Making progress…” he mumbled. I didn’t miss the glazed look in his eyes or his blood soaked shirt. He was exhausted, but wouldn’t give up until he was certain that he had everything he could get out of him.
“What kind of progress?” Cotton asked.
“His name is Victor,” he said, pointing to what was left of the man they brought in last night. When I caught sight of his mangled body, my gut tightened in rage thinking of what he’d just done to Henley. His wrists were bound in thick chains, and he was hanging from a rafter in the ceiling with blood dripping down around his feet. It looked like both his shoulders were dislocated as his head was hung low, his chin resting on his chest. He didn’t look like he was still conscious, but even if he was, I wouldn’t be able to tell from all the swelling on his face. Both of his eyes were completely swollen shut, and his face was covered in blood and bruises.
Stitched tossed his cigarette to the floor and lit another one as he said, “He’s a member of the King Pythons’ Syndicate. Their club is based out of Anchorage, Alaska, and they have over thirty-five members in their charter. They’ve developed a new kind of Meth. It’s stronger… more addictive, and just like you thought, they’re looking to expand their distribution,” he confirmed. “They set their sights on Clallam County because of our port access.”
“Did he say why they killed Skid?” I asked.
“He wouldn’t give them information on the club, so they shot him,” he growled.
“You think he’s got anything left in him?” I asked as I looked over to Victor, and I couldn’t tell if he was even breathing.
“I’ll get another couple of hours out of him,” Stitch told me with a sinister smile.
“We’ll leave you to it,” Cotton said as he started for the door. “Just let me know when you’re done, and I’ll get the boys to come help you take out the trash.”
We were just about to walk out the door, when I took a bucket of cold water and emptied it over Victor’s head. He groaned as he pulled against the chains, trying to free himself. I reached over to Stitch’s torture table and grabbed the ammonia. “Wake up, sunshine. I’m not done with you yet.”
“Please… I’ve told your man everything I know,” Victor pleaded.