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I stalked forward to face off with the man who wore a Twisted Metal cut. “We don’t give a shit about your drug operation. Today we’re looking for the woman they just abducted.”
He gave me a shitty grin. “What woman? You’ll have to be more specific.”
The man’s cut said Road Captain. Why these dipshits had their Road Captain doing grunt work was beyond my ability to reason, but this was the first time I had a Twisted Metal officer in my grip. Without hesitation, I let my fist fly right into his face. The sickening crunch of his nose breaking caught everyone’s attention.
Adam barked, “Don’t start with his fucking face. He can’t talk if you unhinge his jaw or give him significant brain damage.” I shot our brother in arms a questioning look and he clarified. “The stubborn ones take hours to break down. Always start with extremities, small bones. Work your way up to larger bones and save his ribcage and face for last.”
I responded lightly, “I’m not even going to fucking ask how you know that kind of shit.” A little voice in the back of my mind began asking what kind of evil shit military intelligence involved themselves with. It was beginning to look like they had a finger in every little pie. Wished I’d known that when it mattered, when I was knee deep in insurgents and sand.
The man suddenly understood the gravity of his situation and began quietly struggling against Grit’s firm grip and the zip ties my VP had restrained his hands with. “I don’t fucking know anything,” he ground out between clenched teeth.
I took a step closer, snagged a handful of his hair, and yanked his head back. “Do not fucking lie to me. I hate liars.”
“I’m not lying. They don’t tell me anything. Duke’s pissed off with me. Chevron talked him into giving me shit jobs until I’ve paid for my mistake.”
I stared into his eyes and saw a hint of deceit hiding there. What he was saying might be the truth, but it wasn’t the whole truth. “The fact remains your club president’s stupid son, Chevron, abducted a woman. An accountant to be exact. Do you honestly expect me believe one of the captains doesn’t know a fucking thing about it?”
I saw the man’s eyes go wide. “Fucking hell, I told them not to go down that path, that we could find another way.”
“Keep talking. You’re extending your life expectancy with each new bit of information you give.”
“Like most MC’s we have too much cash sitting around the clubhouse. Our club president is desperate to launder it. I came up with a plan to create dummy corporations to buy and sell shit on paper to the businesses Angel keeps the books for.”
I countered, “Only she wouldn’t play ball, right?”
He shook his head. “I hate that they grabbed her, but you should know that Duke ain’t never gonna let her go.”
I crossed my arms over my chest. “Oh, I think you’re wrong about that. I can be very fucking persuasive when I want to be.”
“He’s infatuated with her, convinced that if he can talk to her face-to-face and turn on the charm that he can get her to do anything he wants.”
Intentionally ignoring Adam’s long string of curses, I stared at our shiny new hostage. “Duke thinks he’s a lady’s man, does he?”
“It’s true, he can talk a fucking snake out of its own skin. He’s good looking; the chicks are drawn to him. He has a way about him that’s hard to explain.”
“Well, heads up, mother fucker. We’re about to ugly him up a bit. Bet he won’t be such a fucking chick magnet when we get finished with him.”
“You’ll never get your hands on her. Our clubhouse is locked down tight. Nothing goes on there that Duke doesn’t see.”
Finally, I shot Adam a glance. A smile spread slowly across my face. “She’s being held at their fucking clubhouse. That was a bold move, after his son abducted her in broad daylight.”
He rolled his eyes, “I didn’t think they’d be quite that fucking stupid either.”
“You fuckers are crazy. Duke ain’t gonna let some upstart club ran by a bunch of fucking boy scouts waylay him and lay waste to our clubhouse. You fuckers do not know what you’re getting yourselves into. Even thinking about attacking us on our own turf is the kind of madness that gets men killed.”
I didn’t respond to the ignorant fuck who saw battled hardened soldiers as boy scouts. Instead, I intoned. “Grit, call the prospects to come with a cage. Take him back to our place and drop him in a cell. I’ll circle back around to him later.”
Grit jerked the man to his feet and dragged him towards the door, where he shoved him down again. Grit drew his weapon and pointed it right at his head as his other hand fished out his cell phone and thumbed out a text for them to bring one of our enclosed vehicles. It wasn’t like we could stick a hostage on the back of one of our bikes.
I raised one hand and made a circle in the air for everyone to load up. “Let’s get the fuck outta here. We’re burning daylight.”
Breaker, who knew me very well, asked, “We’re heading straight for the Twisted Metal clubhouse, right?”
“Of fucking course we are. Have the prospects meet us there with our gear.”
“You got it, boss.” I heard him mumbling something under his breath about how lucky we were to have an army of prospects right now. That was about the only advantage of starting a new MC, everyone you didn’t know personally needed to prove themselves by prospecting.
Somehow this hacking genius beat us all to the door in his wheelchair. The more I looked at those wheels, the more I thought his mode of transport was designed for rough terrain. Of course a former military man would see the advantage of being able to navigate his own backyard or a forest trail, I thought with pride.
