“I’ll ask you again. Didn’t Sigel sic you on Alex so he could draw me out to get revenge?”
Once again, he only stared me down with pure venom boiling in his eyes. Over the years, I’d come across men like Crank—tough nuts to crack. Well, unless you actually cracked their nuts, and then they’d start singing like canaries. So I went back to work, but this time I replaced the gag.
After using the pliers to pluck off each of his fingernails, I handed the bloodied tool back to Bishop. He then handed me a crowbar. With almost the same stance as a golfer, I leaned back before putting all my strength into landing a solid blow into his right kneecap. A muffled scream broke through the gag, but I ignored it. Instead, I launched the crowbar into the left kneecap, shattering it on impact.
Crank now hung precariously by his arms, unable to support his weight by his broken knees. Sweat poured off his face, which twitched with the pain that ran over his body. I ripped off the gag again. “Just tell me yes, and this will go a lot easier.”
Eyeballing me momentarily, Crank croaked, “Fuck you.”
“No, man. I’ll fuck you with the rusty end of this crowbar if you don’t start talking.”
“Should’ve slit your brat’s throat when I had the chance,” he spat.
“Excuse me?”
A menacing smile curved on his lips. “I could’ve fucked her every which way before slitting her throat, but Sigel said no.”
I swallowed hard at the image he had painted—one I was all too familiar with using during torture scenes. I just sure as hell wasn’t used to having the tables turned on me. Without another thought, I launched the crowbar at his lower back, nailing his kidney. He screamed, a combination of spit and blood spewing from his mouth. After nailing the other one, I allowed him a moment to ride the wave of pain. “Are you going to tell me shit, or should I just end you now?”
“End me,” he groaned.
“Fine.” Tossing the crowbar onto the table, I took the long bowie knife. Eyeing the tats on his chest, I shook my head. With methodic precision, I began to slice at each of the tats that represented his ties to the Nordic Knights and the venomous hate they spewed.
I don’t know how much time passed or when Crank finally stopped screaming. When I glanced up at him, his eyes had glazed over, and I knew he was in the shadowy area where you have one toe still in the living and another one over the line into death. Taking the blade, I slashed it across his wrists. His once-groggy state turned over to panic as the last of his life force spurted and flowed out onto the cement and down the drain in the floor.
Glancing over my shoulder, I gauged my brothers’ responses. Only Rev wore a look of disgust. I’m sure he felt I’d gone too far, regardless of what Crank had done to Alexandra. Without a word to any of them, I walked down the length of the room to the shower. After pulling off my blood-saturated clothes, I ducked under the water. As I got rid of the physical evidence of my crime, my brothers worked at getting Crank down.
Lathering up my body, I watched as they rolled him in plastic and then in a tarp. He would be deposited on the doorsteps of his clubhouse sometime tonight. It would involve a major production plan of changing unmarked cars to go into Knights territory. Most likely a runner—someone who worked for the club on odd jobs—would end up tossing the body, so that none of us would be connected to the crime by the Feds. But Sigel would know loud and clear who’d ended Crank.
After I showered, I slipped on the sweatpants and T-shirt that Archer brought to me. Although I should’ve gone back home to Alexandra, I headed out of the clubhouse toward the woods. Before I could be with her again, I had to get my head on straight. While there had been many kills in my life, they still all affected me. My emotions got jangled, and I would need some time to decompress.
With only my gun and flashlight, I tromped through the brush and headed into the woods to the one place I always went to find solace and healing.
As I slipped into a groggy consciousness, my limbs felt too heavy and laden down to move. Blinking furiously, I struggled to open my eyes. The moment my lids finally flew open, everything that had happened the night before came crashing down on me like a building crumbling in on itself. A scream tore from my lips as a reel of images assaulted me. The arms and legs that I had previously not had the energy to lift began to thrash violently on the bed. My body shook and convulsed until a soothing voice to my left calmed me. “Shh. It’s okay, honey,” Beth said, as she took my hand in hers.
Bile rose in my throat, and when I swallowed hard, my throat raged in agony. But it wasn’t the screaming from last night that had left it raw like it had been shredded by razor blades. It was a combination of the strong hands of my attacker on my throat as well as my cries of terror before Deacon had swooped in to rescue me.
Oh God, Deacon.
He had been my protector—a true knight in shining armor. His strength had saved me from a hellish nightmare. My eyes scanned the room wildly for him. “David is fine. He just had to take care of some things. He’ll be back in a few minutes,” Beth reassured me.
I couldn’t help wondering what he was doing. I’d still been cognizant enough to remember him barking orders to Rev and Bishop about bringing my attacker back to the compound. Had he gone to torture the man for information? Maybe even kill him?
At my shudder, Beth eased the covers tighter around me. When I glanced up at her, she tenderly cupped my cheek. “I’m so sorry this happened to you, honey.”
“Thank you,” I murmured.