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“I only wish the rest of the Minneapolis Royal Bastards could be here to enjoy this moment.” I let my lips spread into a grin. “But I’ll tell them all about it. Funny coincidence, you coming down here to Iowa like this. Fitting, too.” I nod back at the hog enclosure. “The punishment is gonna really fit the crime. You know what they say, Spanner. Pigs get fed. Hogs, though… they get slaughtered.”
I make a sign to Voodoo, who’s operating the Bobcat. He moves a lever, and the winch on the crane hoists Spanner by the ropes around his wrists. Spanner starts to scream again, flailing his legs wildly. The Bobcat lifts him up high, then over, until he’s suspended above the enclosure.
Next to me, Hawk lets out a snort. “They ain’t been fed for a while. Doubt this will take long.”
“Pity,” I murmur, and light another cigarette.
Voodoo lets the prospect loose. Spanner drops down into enclosure on top of a couple of the hogs, which startles them and pisses them off. They surround him, and within seconds, Spanner starts to shriek. That just enrages the beasts more. They begin to tear him apart, their squeals of excitement mixing with Spanner’s screams.
A sense of calm descends on me as I watch and listen to the grim spectacle in front of me. The bloody justice of the club has been done, the cosmic scoreboard rebalanced.
When the hogs’ feeding frenzy is over, we all turn away. The prospect is not only dead, he might as well never have existed. All that’s left of him now is his bike. I’ll leave it down here for the Ankeny club to remove the VIN and do whatever they want with it. A small thank-you gift for disposing of the body.
“You stickin’ around to party with us tonight, brother?” Voodoo asks me as we walk toward our own bikes.
“Yeah. Be good to let off some steam. Venom told me there’s an empty apartment at your clubhouse with my name on it tonight. I’ll suck down as much of your free booze as I can, and head back up to Minneapolis tomorrow.”
“Good deal,” Voodoo says, clapping me on the back. “We ain’t had a decent rager for a while. Got a feeling the club’s gonna be rockin’ tonight. We’ll pull out all the stops for ya.”
While we wait for the other men to get to their bikes, I call my prez, Magnus. Last I heard he was up fishing in northern Minnesota, so I ain’t sure whether I’ll get a hold of him. But he answers on the second ring.
“Talk to me,” Magnus — always a man of few words — barks into the phone.
“Yo, Prez. Thought I was gonna have to leave a message. Didn’t expect you to have decent cell service.”
“We’re on our way back down to the Cities. We’re fillin’ up our tanks before heading back down. You caught me just at the right time. You still down in Ankeny?”
“Yep. Mission accomplished.”
“Happy to hear that.” The edge in his voice sharpens. “That situation needed to be dealt with.”
“Yeah, well, it’s been dealt with and disappeared. The hogs took care of that.”
Magnus grunts his approval. “Where you at now?”
“On our way back to the Ankeny clubhouse. Planning to stay the night down here, if you’re good with it.”
“Yep. I’ll let Norse and the rest of them know you took care of the problem.”
“I’ll check in once I’m back in Minneapolis.”
“You do that. See you at home, brother. Good work.”
“Gotcha, Prez.”
I pocket my phone, fire up my bike, and head back with the others to the Ankeny clubhouse.
It’s gonna be a good night.
2
KAT
“So, brunch this weekend?” Christy asks.
“I don’t know,” I stall, trying to think of an excuse. “Can I get back to you?”
I’m sitting at the nurses’ station with one shoe off, massaging an aching foot. My colleague and good friend Christy is standing on the other side of the desk, looking at me hopefully. We’re in a rare lull in an otherwise chaotic and understaffed emergency department at Fairdale Hospital, where I’ve worked as a nurse for about six months.
