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“Aw shit,” Raiden cursed, snickering. “He fucking pissed himself.”
Sure enough, a long, wet streak slowly saturated two pathways down his stocky legs, dripping onto the concrete floor. Looked like mottled, damp tree trunks poking out from his shorts.
A predatory smile curled the edges of my lips. I loved it when my prisoners revealed their terror. Almost lost my shit and pulled out my cock, stroking it for fucking fun to see who would react first. I adjusted my dick, hoping I’d get to watch Homer bleed more soon.
Manic chuckled, shaking his head.
“You know who we are, right?” Raiden asked, moving in front of Homer. “What we’re capable of?”
We called the Visalia, California, area home, where we lived, played, and ruled. Among the Sierra Nevada Mountains, capped with snow most of the year and the scenic views, a vale stretched for miles in a lush, beautiful valley where we built a fortress. We named the clubhouse we erected on the land The Twisted Throttle.
The Reaper’s Vale MC built roots into the fertile soil and buried them deep. There wasn’t a soul who didn’t know us. We had eyes and ears on every corner. Our I.T. guy, Forge, was the best in the business.
The point was that Homer would never escape our wrath. He knew what belonged to us, and no one crossed the Reaper’s Vale MC.
His chin dropped, his chest heaving a sigh. The defeat swam in his dull brown eyes, at least the one that wasn’t swollen shut when he finally lifted his head, staring directly at Devil.
“I’ll give you what you want, but it ain’t here,” he finally admitted. “I wasn’t lying. You can rip this place apart, and you won’t find shit.” His words slurred a bit from the pain and shock over what he’d endured since we brought him in.
“Start fucking talking,” I ordered, “and don’t leave out any details.”
“I stashed the goods with a friend.” For the first time, I sensed his fear. He cared about the one who now had our package.
“Where?” Devil asked, his voice far too calm.
Manic and Raiden both took a few steps back. I didn’t move. This was my show. Well, mine and our pres.
I understood why they retreated, giving Devil the space that he needed because I knew shit was about to get seriously fucked.
“A bar on the far side of town. The Rising Sun Tavern.”
I knew the place. Rough crowd, but nothing compared to a biker bar. Mostly, local drunks and tourists looking to ski the slopes, stopping through town on their way up the mountains.
“You give it to the owner?” I asked, knowing the place was run by a woman rumored to be a tough bitch who employed a few guys for hired muscle. The site got rowdy on the weekends with open mic and garage band nights.
“Amelia. She doesn’t know what I gave her. She doesn’t have a clue. Please—”
“You lost your ability to negotiate hours ago, motherfucker,” Raiden informed him, daring Homer to contradict in any way.
“I-I suppose not, but I’m asking you not to hurt Amelia or her girls.”
Stupid fucker. He just gave us more info than he should have if he wanted to protect these women. You didn’t volunteer extra shit, hoping the guys with all the guns and power didn’t fuck up the people you cared about. What a fuckin’ idiot.
“We’ll check out the bar,” Devil informed him as Homer’s shoulders relaxed.
He thought this was over. A cackle escaped as I glanced at Manic, who approached, whipping out one of his knives. The sleek metal sailed through the air, embedding into the wood an inch from Homer’s left eye.
“Oh, f-fuck,” Homer stammered, his undamaged eye widening as he began quaking again.
“If Amelia doesn’t have the package,” Devil warned, “I’m sending these two back to finish the job.”
Homer swallowed, his thick throat bobbing as he vigorously nodded.
Unable to resist, I got close and tapped his cheek with the end of my blade, wishing I could carve his flesh into neat little ribbons. Wouldn’t it be exciting to see if I could keep them all the same size?
“Reaper,” Devil called out, knowing the thread I balanced on could snap at any moment. He was already perched in the doorway, no longer interested in Homer now that we had the information we came to collect.
The basement would make a perfect tomb.All I need is a little fire.
