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Rogue smiles back at me cleverly.
“So which one do you belong to?” I ask when she steps aside and opens the truck door for me to hop out. She laughs again, this one sounding sugary sweet and laced with venom.
“Oh, darlin’, I don’t belong to no one, especially no Dirty Soul. I’m far too wild for any of those boys to tame.” I watch as she slams down the hood of the truck and rubs her greasy hands on the back of her overalls.
“I should get back to the cabin,” I smile, ready to make my way back up the hill.
“Fuck sake, Rogue, stop getting your parts delivered to the clubhouse,” an irritated voice interrupts my exit, and a huge guy, covered in tattoo’s slams a box down on the crowded work surface. He’s one of the twins that rode off with Brax and Jessie to speak to the rival MC, and he offered to help me with my bag yesterday. I was in such a mood with Brax that I was rude to him.
“I can always guarantee there’ll be someone there,” Rogue shrugs innocently. “That’s your brother’s new exhaust, so maybe you should be thanking me for him, you know, seeing as he doesn’t have much to say himself.”
I notice the guy eye her warningly for a second.
“This one’s got a mouth on her,” he turns his attention to me now, nudging his head toward Rogue. He seems a nice enough guy, a lot less serious than some of the others around here.
“In fact, she’s lucky I don’t take some severe action to keep her quiet.”
“Something like what, Squeal, you wanna stuff your chubby in my mouth?” Rogue bites back at him with a tantalizing look in her eyes.
“Wouldn’t run the risk,” he shakes his head. “You’d probably gnaw it off.”
“You know me too well,” she throws him that over-exaggerated sweet look again, playing up to her act before scowling at him and getting back to work.
“I’ll tell Screwy to come over and fix his exhaust when we’re back from our little recreational,” he tells her, backing out the door and winking at me as he leaves.
“Squealer?” I ask Rogue.
“Living and breathing… for now,” she rolls her eyes.
My blood scorches from the adrenaline that spreads through my veins like a wildfire, yet my skin is as cold as ice. Turns out, Lector was good on his word. When we gave him what he needed, he gave us a location on Clunk, the now ex-president of the Bastards MC.
Their members held an emergency meeting last night and voted Lector in as their new President. And now we're sitting outside the apartment block on Drybrook Street waiting for Clunk to leave.
Clunk still has no idea that he’s lost all his power or that he isn’t protected anymore.
Prez and Brax are sitting on the bench seat beside me in the unmarked van Thorne managed to acquire for us. And all three of us are itching to get sight of him.
This day has been a long time coming for me and Prez. Maddy, and my focus on taking this fucker down have been what’s gotten me through losing Hayley. And I know I’ll sleep better tonight knowing that the one who is responsible for taking her, and the reason my girl has to remain at the club like a prisoner, has had his justice handed to him.
I wonder how he’ll go out. Weak and begging, or strong and honorable. I struggle to believe a man who does what he does to kids knows the meaning of the word honor.
“There he is.” Brax points his finger at the windshield, and we all watch Clunk leave the apartment building, his face smug as he moves toward his bike. I creep the van closer, and Brax already has a hand on the door handle ready to strike.
Clunk doesn’t see us coming, and Brax jumps out of the van and is on him before he even hears us approach. Prez slides the side door open and before Clunk can reach around his waist for his gun, Brax has already disarmed him and has his own gun pressed against his temple.
“You’re taking a ride with us,” Brax informs him, before throwing the useless piece of shit into the back.
Prez smiles him a calm, calculated smile as he slides the door shut, and they both hop back inside. I speed off, heading for the place where Clunk will meet his comeuppance. And once we’ve finished with him, we’ll leave it for Satan to decide if he wants him or not.
The van rocks and the old man barks warnings at us from the back, until I pull up at the abandoned warehouse where he brought Hayley and Maddy almost two years ago. The Bastard fuck charges out of the van like a bull from the stock when the doors open. He doesn’t get far though. Not when I trip him with my foot and bury his face into the crumbling earth. This is where we spilled the blood of his brothers. Clunk lost a lot of members that day, and all because he wanted to get his hands on my girl. That thought has kept me paranoid every day since.
“You're gonna regret this,” he threatens, choking on dry dust and pebbles. Prez stands in front of him, and I wrench the fucker’s head back, forcing him to look up at the man who he took everything away from. The same man who will put an end to this sorry cunt’s, kid raping life.
Clunk still has the balls to laugh, and the world goes blank for him when he feels the heel of Jimmer Carson’s heavy size eleven.
All three of us stand over him, waiting for him to regain consciousness. He’s tied to the chair the same way Hayley had been, in the spot where her blood still stains the concrete floor. He growls like an old dog when he comes to. His eyes focusing on Prez as he lets out a smug chuckle.
“When my boys realize what you’ve done, you’re gonna end up as dead as your daughter.” He spits a mouthful of blood-streaked phlegm at Prez’s boot. Brax jolts forward, about to teach him a lesson on respect. But I manage to hold him back when Prez starts laughing.
