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“Only once since I’ve been a member and I’ve been around for over twenty years,” someone I can’t place chimes in.
Pete continues. “It’s called running the gauntlet. Every one of the ranking members gets a weapon of their choice, but nothing lethal, like no guns or knives. Anyway, the offender has to make it past us to the end. The end is usually them being banished from the club and run out of town. But Sam is a fucking snitch, so his end is death.” He pauses for effect and I swallow nervously. “Can you handle that?”
“Mhm.” I can handle it. I think I can, at least.
Zeke throws an arm around my shoulders. “Good. Tonight will be fun.” Only Zeke would think beating the shit out of someone, then killing them would be fun. Calm and calculating, like Rax said. Maybe even a little sadistic.
Most times, when you’re looking forward to something, time drags, not wanting to give you what you want. Not today. It sounds fucked up, but I can’t wait to see Sam pay for what he did.
Jace and another member, Mark, head out to get Sam and I pace the courtyard, not able to keep still. The ranking members are all dressed in black, bracketing Prez like his personal security. I guess they kind of are.
Prez looks at me and winks. “Won’t be too long now.” He has a lead pipe in his hand, slapping it in his palm slowly. Zeke has a wooden baseball bat, Pete has brass knuckles, and I see other nonlethal weapons like a golf club, a police baton, a taser, and one member has on a pair of steel toed boots.
This ass whooping is going to hurt.
Good.
Thirty minutes later, we hear a car pull up and park about twenty feet from where we’re standing. A tied-up Sam is pulled out of the trunk and tossed at Prez’s feet. With a sinister look, Prez kneels down beside Sam and rips the tape from his mouth.
To his credit, Sam doesn’t cry or beg. He stares Prez down, his chin kicked up. “What happens now?”
“You’ll run the gauntlet,” Prez answers conversationally. “Heard of that?” Sam looks puzzled and shakes his head. “Well, lucky for you, our local neighborhood enforcer will tell you about it. Zeke, tell this man the prize he’s won.”
With a wide grin, Zeke pushes his foot on Sam’s shoulder until Sam is flat on his back. “You get to try to make it past the seven of us, all while getting your ass beat. If you make it to the end, we’ll make it quick.”
“If I don’t try to make it past the seven of you?”
Pete barks a laugh. “Did you think you had a choice? Get the fuck up.”
The tape is cut from Sam’s wrists and ankles and Jace and Mark stand him up and push him to the end of their self-made line. I step back and blend into the wall with the other members.
Sam looks around at everyone before his eyes land on me. They narrow and he spits at my feet. “It’s your fucking fault all this happened. You got Telly killed!”
Anger bubbles up in me and I walk over to Sam, getting in his face. He’s at least six inches taller than me, but that doesn’t frighten me. When I’m in his face, I cock my arm back and deck him in the nose. He has about thirty pounds on me, but I took him by surprise so he crumples to the ground.
Zeke holds his bat to his neck to stop him from moving or advancing on me as I stare down at him. “Your friend tried to rape me. He was disrespectful to a ranking member of this MC. What did you think would happen? And you thought the best way to fix that was giving up Rax’s location?”
He starts to talk, but Zeke pulls on the bat. “Let him speak,” I practically beg. “I need to hear this.”
Sam catches his breath when Zeke lets him go. “An eye for an eye. I was hoping Rax would try to run and get shot by the cops.” Sam sneers, looking back at Zeke. “Know the best thing about being a prospect? You’re invisible. I got the address from Prez’s GPS before that guy wiped it. No one saw me because I was supposed to be cleaning his car. So, blame yourselves for giving me the ammo to tell the cops where that son of a bitch was.”
Grabbing him by his hair, Prez pulls Sam to his feet and yanks him to the end of the line. “We believe in fucking loyalty here. I don’t blame myself for shit. You’re a fucking snake and will get what you deserve. Run the line.” He lets Sam’s hair go and takes his position at the end of the line. “Get to me, and I’ll give you a free shot. If you make it.” Prez looks at his line. “Don’t take it easy on him.”
They don’t. Sam takes two steps towards Prez and gets hit in the knee with Zeke’s bat. He drops almost immediately, holding his knee. Zeke doesn’t stop. He brings the bat down on Sam’s back, causing it to bow, exposing his front. Swinging the bat like a golf club, he connects with his chest, knocking the wind out of him.
“Come on, Sam,” Pete taunts. “I skipped physical therapy earlier today for this work out.” Pete is the third in line, so he doesn’t have far to go, but looks like Sam can’t get up.
Dragging himself down the line and getting away from Zeke’s bat, the next member has the steel toe boots. A swift kick is aimed at Sam’s face, leaving it a bloody mess. The member stomps on his arm, and a sickening crack resonates loudly. The members standing against the wall whistle and cheer, some exchanging money as if they bet.
I’m standing, frozen at this show of aggression and I’m trying to figure out if I’m sickened or proud of how these men are willing to go to bat—no pun intended—for a member that hasn’t been active in over seven years. This is true brotherhood and it both thrills and scares me.
When Sam drags himself further down the line, Pete says, “Fucking finally.” He flips Sam over by his broken arm, making him cry out pitifully. “Shut the fuck up.” Pete kneels beside him, wincing. His leg pain doesn’t stop the ferocity of his attack. He holds Sam by the hair and lands three quick punches to his face with his left hand. Then he switches the brass knuckles to the other hand and does the same thing. Sam barely moans, his chest heaving as he tries to scramble way.
The next man brings down the police baton all over Sam’s body, hitting a lot of areas with soft tissue. No matter how he tries to move or keep going, Sam’s not getting a break.
I’m shocked away from the punishment by an arm around my shoulder. I look up at a smiling Zeke. “You good?”
“Yeah.” I am. I wanted this. I wanted to see. It’s nothing less than he deserves.
