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Braden’s face contorts in pain. When he can breathe, he wheezes and asks, “What the fuck was that for?”
I smile as Braden’s façade drops and profanity spills from his mouth. “Finally, the real Frank Braden is here. Tell us about the money.”
Braden is silent for an extended moment, giving Preacher plenty of time to hook up the car battery to its power source and then to the man’s groin. “What money?”
“The fucking money,” I roar at him. “I told you, Frank, I won’t ask twice.”
He nods. “Okay. I don’t know anything except they stole your money from your clubhouse, which has nothing to do with me.”
He lets out a long frustrated breath as his eyes keep darting to Preacher.
“I refused to give them access to your money in the safe.”
“You refused?” I ask the question even though I have a good fucking idea of the truth. “Why would you do that?”
Sweat beads off Braden’s face. This man is in deeper shit than he’s letting on.
“Okay, Letty is my failsafe. It’s why I called her in today. Hector wanted access to the safe, and I don’t know the combination. Letty was worried someone might hurt me to get it since you guys were putting so much money in there, so she changed the lock combination, but I didn’t tell them that.”
Preacher touches the clamps together, and they spark, making Braden’s eyes go wide with fear, or rather the anticipation of fear.
“Okay!” he shouts again. “I didn’t tell them Letty had the combination, but I figured if it came down to it, she’d do the right thing to help me out.”
“Asshole.” Preacher growls angrily at Braden and taps the clamps to the battery, sending about twelve volts through the pastor’s body.
I smile as I watch him twitch and convulse, eyes rolling in the back of his head. A gurgling sound comes from him for several seconds, and I keep grinning because it’s no less than this asshole traitor deserves.
He collapses onto himself when the volts stop pulsing through his body, panting heavily and shaking his head.
Before I can think better of it, I throw another fist at his nose.
“You are a real fucking piece of work, you know that? Letty, an innocent, could have died because of you, and all you can think about is yourself. You deserve to die, you filthy piece of shit! You know that?”
He nods. “I know. But I’m here because it is His will. Not yours.”
I smirk at his words. “I can’t fucking believe you. Easy to be pious when you’re here, alive because of a woman you should have protected. But I’m glad you have your faith, Braden, but it’s not your God you need to worry about. Fuck his forgiveness. It’s mine you should worry about because whether or not I forgive you will determine if you live to see the sun rise over another day in Angel Harbor.”
Braden nods. “Your judgment worries me less than His.”
“So be it,” I tell him and grab the clamps from Preacher, sending more volts through his body. “I don’t forgive you, and neither does Letty. You almost killed her. You fucking traumatized her, and you broke your word, dishonored your fucking promise. Think of that when you meet your so-called maker.”
Braden is whispering to himself, another fucking prayer as if that can save him now.
“Shut the fuck up,” I roar and backhand him before sending another dozen volts through his body.
“Shades,” Preacher growls but it’s too late. Braden is unconscious. Preacher checks his pulse. “He’s still breathing, which is damn good for you. Ace is gonna be pissed.”
“Sorry,” I shake my head, not feeling sorry at all. Fuck Braden and all the bullshit he stands for.
“I know he hurt your girl, but you gotta pull it together. Letty is fine, and she’s waiting for you. Don’t fuck that up.”
I nod at Preacher’s words. “Thanks, brother.”
The heavy metal door of The Chamber slides open, and Ace appears along with Joaquin, Coop, Jordi, Wild Man, Lucky, and Devon.
“Get anything useful?”
I look at Ace. “Not really. Braden’s been working with the Kings the whole fucking time. He’s got a bitch on the side with a kid who’s a junkie and needs the money.”
