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Twenty-One
Bullseye
I thought I’d seen some nasty shit in my life, but nothing compared to what Reaper was doing to the Police Chief, Brian Conners. Walking outside the small shack on the outskirts of town, I leaned over, gasping for air as I tried to control the urge to vomit.
My stomach wasn’t quite as healed as Healer would have liked, but there was nothing he could do to keep me in bed. My wife was out there somewhere, and the longer I was away from her, the more trouble she could get herself into.
I wasn’t happy about postponing my trip to her, but since Phantom and Gadget were texting in about every hour with updates, I knew that she was safe for the time being.
However, as for the Police Chief, I wasn’t sure he would last much longer. Reaper and Shadow had been working him over for the last few hours, and still, the stubborn fucker refused to give anything up. As it was, two of his deputies were standing by, watching as if it was nothing to see. It also happened that the two deputies had fathers who belonged to the club at one point in time. When Reaper let it slip that their Chief was helping a known criminal and human trafficker Diablo, the Collector, the deputies stepped aside and let Reaper have at their boss.
“God, that is some sick shit,” Chaos said, stepping out of the shack rubbing the back of his neck. “Reaper just sliced the man’s arm clean off.”
“That means he’s about to lose his patience.”
“I would have thought he already did.”
“When the blades come out, it’s game over.”
“He still ain’t saying shit.”
“He will,” I said, looking back at the shack. “They always do in the end.”
And that was the truth. When faced with imminent death, it didn’t matter who the person was, the fight or flight instinct kicked in, and it was confession time. I’d seen even the hardened man talk like a giddy schoolgirl with the hope of somehow staying alive.
Too bad they never did.
No one ever did when Reaper got his hands on them. The President of the Golden Skulls was a one-man killing machine when the mood suited him, and in the last 24 hours, it suited him just fine. Why he needed a personal assassin and two enforcers, I would never know. The man was clearly capable himself. It wasn’t pretty, but death never was. Besides, I wasn’t the club president, so I guess I didn’t need to know.
I just followed orders.
I am good at that. I’ve been following orders my whole life. First with my Mom, then the Marines, now my wife and Reaper.
Funny thing, though, I’m more scared of my wife than I am of Reaper. Reaper would rant and be destructive. My wife was famous for her sharp tongue and distinct look.
I’d seen that look. Her look.
That look scared the living shit out of me a few times. She would have been a good Gunnery Sergeant.
“How’s the shoulder?”
Chaos rotated his arm, and he said, “Still aches. But it’s good to go. You?”
“Healing. Those fucking blades are sharp, man.”
Chaos grinned. “Yeah, I’ve seen Reaper sharpening them many times. He loves those blades.”
Reaching inside for my pack of smokes, I had just lit myself a cigarette when the shack doors were flung open as Reaper, and the others walked out. “Let’s roll!” Reaper ordered as brothers rushed to their bikes.
Not wanting his temper aimed at me, I threw my cigarette on the ground and walked to my bike when Reaper stopped me. “Call Kitty and tell her to get her ass to the rendezvous point she set up, fast.”
“Reaper, what did Conners say?”
“That my bitch of a mother knows everything. She knows Kitty moved her mother. He said the games afoot, and there’s nothing we can do to stop it.”
“Does she know where Angela and Hailey are?”
“No, she doesn’t, but I do. I had a brother watch the house. When he spotted Angela leave with Hailey, he intercepted them. They are safe.”
