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I grin at Puma and nod. “I am. You and this club are my family. I’ll never betray you.”
“I know.”
We make the rest of the trip to The Pit in silence. The Pit isn’t on our land, but the access to it is. The previous President, Squiggy, created our torture chamber. Chill’s added her touches to it. Cinderblocks and concrete keep the underground chamber cold and soundproof. Chill’s preferred form of torture revolves around the cold. She even brought in an industrial ice maker to assist. Dice prefers knives and his fists, whereas I lean toward hot pokers and blowtorches. Our successful disposal of the three punks tells me we’ll be using snake venom to dispatch our guests in the future. Especially if the authorities deem their deaths to be caused by natural causes. Ever since Max joined as a prospect, he’s kept snakes as pets. He’s taken over a room in the clubhouse for his collection. We keep vials of the venom he milks in The Pit.
I check the ice maker to ensure it’s full before taking out Dice’s knives. I just set down the filet knife when the door opens, and Chill walks in with Dice carrying a man with long blonde hair. Wildcard brings up the rear. Dice and Chill hang the man from a hook so I can slice off his clothes. Once he’s naked except for this underwear, Chill tosses an ice-cold bucket of water on him.
He splutters and curses as the cold water does its job. His eyes go wide as he glances around the room before he gapes at Puma. “What’s going on? Why am I here?”
“We have some questions for you,” Puma says. “But first, what’s your name?”
“Tracker. I don’t understand. We checked in with Trouble; ask him. We didn’t come to Vegas to start any trouble with your club.”
“Then maybe you shouldn’t have tried to frame my Enforcer for murder,” Puma supplies.
Tracker glances around the room again, his confusion clear. “I didn’t frame anyone for murder. I swear. Who do you think I murdered?”
“Wayne Turner,” I tell him as I step into view. His eyes focus on me and widen as he takes in my appearance.
“Fuck, wait, is that the dead guy in the hotel room?”
“The guy you murdered? Yeah, that’s him,” Puma says.
“I didn’t kill him. I swear I didn’t. Please, believe me. Some guy paid me five hundred bucks to go to that hotel room. He said I wouldn’t have to do a thing, just wear my kutte and go into the room. He gave me two-fifty up front with the promise of the rest once I entered the room. I fucking knew it was a setup.”
I glance at Puma and see him studying the idiot. “Run that by me again,” Puma growls.
“Look, it was the first night we arrived. I was drunk and lost about three hundred on the tables. Some guy came up to me and said he’d give me five hundred if I did him a small favor. He wanted me to go to this hotel room the following evening. I was to arrive on my bike and wear my hair loose. He said if I went to the second floor and into the last room on the right, he’d give me the rest of my money. I said no at first, figuring it was some sick joke or a fucking setup. He told me he only wanted me there for backup. That some asshole owed him money. A lot of money. He said having a biker with him would convince the guy he meant business. But when I got there, the fucker was dead. I recognized a setup, so I booked it. But I didn’t kill the fucker. I swear it.”
We all look at Puma, who studies him before glancing at Chill. “What do you think?”
She shrugs. “He sounds like he’s telling the truth, but there’s no way to prove it. I can work on him. Test his level of truthfulness. Maybe slice off his nipple or puncture his balls.”
The guy whimpers, which has Chill sending him a look of pure disdain.
“Actually, Chill, Rafe asked if you could keep the physical damage down to a minimum. In case he needs to book the asshole for murder. Might be the only way to keep me out of prison.”
“Fuck, you’re Chill? Shit, shit, shit. I swear I’m telling you the truth. If you want, I’ll turn myself over to the cops and tell them just what I told you. Whoever approached me obviously wanted someone to think it was her who went up to that room. Right?”
I nod.
“I can help you find the bastard. I’ve been searching for him. Please. I wouldn’t have agreed if I knew his plan. I know it was stupid of me to accept the cash, but I honestly just thought he was buying some muscle.”
“I have an idea to determine if he’s telling the truth,” I offer with a grin. Making a call to Max, I ask him to retrieve one of our friends. He chuckles and tells me he’s on his way.
Puma raises an eyebrow at me but refrains from questioning my plans. One of the many things I love about Puma is how much he trusts his patched members. Even as a prospect, I felt like part of the family. Not that they didn’t work our asses off to prove that we were member-material.
Max enters the room carrying a travel terrarium with a Great Basin gopher snake curled up inside. I watch Tracker’s expression. Grinning when he loses all color. I take the habitat from Max before stepping over to Tracker so he can get a closer look.
“What the fuck is that?” he stammers. “Is that a fucking rattlesnake?”
The thing about these snakes is that they look similar to rattlesnakes. They even copy their mannerisms when threatened, curling up into an s-shape, rattling their tails against the ground, and hissing. However, they aren’t venomous. I’mcounting on Tracker to not recognize this species. By the look of terror in his eyes, he doesn’t.
“Please, I told you everything I know. I didn’t know he was trying to frame you. If I had, I wouldn’t have agreed to meet him. Hell, I would have warned you. Please, I’ll help you find him. I’ll go to the cops and tell them what happened. I can even work with a police sketch artist. Please! Whatever you want.”
CHAPTER TWENTY-FOUR: RAFE
Spark has bank accounts up on his screen while Juliet is searching through a list of names.
