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Colt breathed out, the line crackled. “No time for that, I’ll be fine, it’ll be good just me and Lyle, you know.”
Ash relented, “Okay Prez. Hey… Prez?”
“Yeah?”
“...Thanks.”
He heard Colt sigh again. “That’s what we are here for,” he said.
Lyle immediately realized he had fucked up. Again. Big time.
Shit. His head hurt.
There was banging from somewhere. And light, slashing through his eyelids.
He winced, it felt like his brain was shivering inside his skull. He realized his whole body was shivering, fuck, he was crashing.
He was a fucking train wreck. He tried to sit up and assess the damage.
Damage to himself that he had caused. He was a fucking loser.
His nose felt damp and crusty inside.
Shit. Fucking Hell.
He raised a hand to push his greasy hair off his face.
It was then that he realized his wrists were bound together.
He froze, staring in horror at his wrists, sloppy tape wrapped around and around.
Where was he? What had he done? His heart was pounding furiously. Painfully. His fingers were clammy, grasping, trembling. His hands checked himself all over. Was he really still here, alive and intact?
He still had his cut on, all his clothes. His pockets were empty. Fuck.
But at that moment a door opened and four men clattered in. He sat up and gazed about.
"Sleeping beauty awakes!” he heard one of the men jeer. He was young, mid twenties, with a cocky sneer on his face. He swaggered forward, in front of three others. Cuts.
Lyle squinted in the low light. Royal Rascals MC. Las Vegas.
Ah, fuck.
He'd messed with another club. He cast about the room quickly. He was in some store room or something, a small room with boxes all over the place, a window covered in a dusty looking blind that had half its slats broken or missing. He was sprawled on the dusty wooden floorboards.
"Found this one snooping about looking for you. Thought we'd bring him along for the fun, too."
Lyle saw two of the Rascals now dragging the fourth man forward. Lyle blinked. He'd thought it was another of the fuckers but no.
Lyle groaned out loud and his heart sunk.
Colt.
He was bruised and bloody. Bound by the hands with tape, too.
"Fuck," Lyle said.
"Oh, you aren't friends after all?" the first guy sneered. "Your Prez came to check up on you."
