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Chapter Thirty
Shades
“You ready for this?” Preacher stands with me just outside the heavy metal door of The Chamber, a look of sympathy and understanding on his face.
I stare are my friend and nod. “Yeah, I’m ready. This needs to be done. We need intel.” And that fuckwit Braden has some information that might be useful to us. “Let’s do it.”
I hesitate, but not because I’m not up for doing what needs to be done but because I know exactly what I have to do.
Inside The Chamber is dark, pitch black in fact, and cold thanks to cement walls and floors. The lack of light is disorienting, which is exactly what I’m hoping for.
“Is someone there?” Braden’s fear is obvious, and that makes me smile.
“What’s it to you?”
“Shades?” Fear mixes with relief in his tone, but that’s only because despite his misdeeds, Braden is a true believer. He thinks there’s a way out of this mess for him.
“Thank goodness you’re here. We can have a conversation about, well, everything.”
I stalk across the room, Preacher right behind me, and tug on the tiny string that dangles from the naked bulb in the room.
“And what exactly is everything, Frank?”
“Letty is safe, isn’t she? Then you must want information, which I have.”
I turn to Preacher, and we share a look. Preacher shakes his head.
“All right, what kind of information?”
“The Iron Kings, that Hector Santos, wants everything your club has. The port. The girls. The shipments. All of it.”
I stare down at Frank in disbelief and nod. “I thought you had information that wasn’t common knowledge, Frank.”
I smack my lips together and shake my head before I start to carefully lay out the tools meant to frighten any man in that seat into giving up his mother’s deepest secrets.
“Now that I know you’re not serious, it’s time to get serious.”
I pull out different tools—a hammer, a tree saw, an electric drill, a few different size knives, a hook, and, of course, pliers—and set them on the table one by one.
“That isn’t necessary. Not in the least,” he sputters as this situation, and its gravity finally hits him. “Fine, what do you want to know?”
“I’ll ask the questions, and I only plan to ask each question once. Got it?”
Braden pulls his lips in tight and nods.
“Good. First question. Were you forced to lure Letty to the church?” He opens his mouth, and I hold up the pliers.
“I want you to think about your answer first and then give it to me.”
Thankfully, Preacher has Frank’s entire forearm tied to the chair, making it easy to grip the white tip of his middle fingernail and pull it out from the base.
“Ahhh!” Braden lets out a blood-curdling scream that he follows up with a low grunting sound that never seems to fucking end.
“You got an answer?”
His head falls forward, and his body trembles from the shock of the pain. “No, they didn’t force me. I offered to get her to the church as an act of goodwill.”
Braden’s eyes slam shut, and he’s muttering a request for forgiveness, presumably to God and not to me.
