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Or two.
Or five.
Even ten.
So many his knuckles became numb. They bled. His lungs strained. His breathing sounded like a ticked-off bull in his own ears.
A red haze covered his vision as he thought about Warren hurting Reese. Hurting Reilly.
Hurting other women and getting away with it.
Deacon lost count of how many strikes he doled out with each fist. He only knew his right one swung more often. Because that fist belonged to Reese.
Warren had touched her. Hurt her. Might have done even worse if Bambi, thank fuck, hadn’t chased him off.
So, yeah, his right fist struck a little harder and more often. Until his hand was completely numb from the pain.
Even before the haze in his eyes and the ringing in his ears cleared, he was pulled off the lifeless body beneath him.
Only months ago, he had watched Sig lose his shit up on that mountain. He now understood how the rage had consumed him and how the club’s VP had been driven to use it against Vernon Shirley, his woman’s rapist and kidnapper.
Deacon understood it all now. The same rage filled him all the way to his core.
Sig had made sure Shirley would never hurt Autumn again. It wasn’t only punishment, it was prevention.
Just like Deacon was preventing Warren from ever taking advantage of, or hurting, anyone again.
Not Reilly. Not Reese. No one.
Never again.
Warren was done.
But Deacon wasn’t done.
Not yet.
Chapter Twenty
A black bandana appeared before him and he wrapped it around his split and bleeding knuckles. He wouldn’t be surprised if he had a couple of broken bones in his right hand.
But right now, Deacon didn’t give a fuck. He wasn’t feeling the pain, only fury still surged through his veins.
“Load him up.” His voice wasn’t recognizable, the words sounding foreign and from a distance.
But he knew what had to happen from there and they had no time to waste.
Turning to Shade, he held out his left palm. The quiet man returned his Ruger without hesitation.
“Load him in the van.”
Everyone around him had stopped dead at that order, then a sudden flurry of activity whirled around him. While beating the life out of Warren had occurred in slow-motion, everything now moved at hyper-speed.
His cousin took over, barking out commands. Deacon was relieved because he was mentally and physically spent.
Whip and Cage were to stay at the garage and clean up the mess.
The bat would come with Shade and Deacon to be disposed of.
Rook dug in Warren’s blood-soaked pockets, searching for keys. He was told to find the fucker’s vehicle and do what he needed to do with it. The ex-con had experience dismantling vehicles, which was one reason he might’ve ended up in the joint a few times.
Deacon couldn’t give a fuck about any of that. Rook was his brother who was standing by his side doing what needed to be done.
Just like the rest of them.
When Deacon heard the side door to the van slam shut, it snapped him out of his fog. “You cuff him again?”
Judge grunted out a “Yeah.”
Deacon considered the current situation and how to handle the one to come. He dug into his pocket and pulled out his truck fob. He tossed it to Whip, who still stood guard at the door. “I’m ridin’ in the van with Shade. Have the women take my truck back to the farm and tell them to wait in my apartment. I’ll have someone drop me off when we’re done.”
When Warren was done.
When this whole clusterfuck was over.
“Make sure they go to the farm,” was the last thing he said as he climbed onto the passenger seat. He glanced at Judge. “You comin’?”
“Fuck yeah,” his cousin answered. “Takin’ my sled. Let me go in first and see where Cassie is, yeah?”
Deacon nodded. “Yeah.” Cassie shouldn’t be a witness to Deacon’s plans.
Judge headed out the now wide-open gate and disappeared around the front of the garage. Not a minute later, Deacon could hear the rumble of his cousin’s sled, then the loud acceleration as he sped away.
Tioga Pet Crematorium was only a couple blocks west. Judge only needed a few minutes head start.
After those few minutes, Deacon told Shade to go. He took a last look at his loyal as fuck bothers still standing in the garage yard when Shade shifted the full-sized Chevy van into Drive and followed the same path Judge took.
They both ignored a low groan from the back.
Neither Shade nor Deacon spoke a word on the short trip to the club’s newest business. Shade automatically pulled around back to where customer’s pets were unloaded.
An area hidden from the public. For good reason.
Shade pulled the van as close as he could to the back door where Easy already waited with a large rolling cart and a folded blue tarp.
Deacon rolled down the window for some air and sat in the passenger seat, staring sightlessly out the windshield as Judge, Easy and Shade loaded a restrained Warren onto the cart.
