“It’s still sore and pounding, but nothing like before.”
“It’s the endorphins, baby. What did y’all drink last night anyways?” I didn’t stop at the bar last night, coming straight up to our room, showering and changing her into her nightwear.
“Outlaw brought out some moonshine. Harlow and I went shot for shot, you know I can’t turn down a dare,” she reminds me. Aria has never possessed that ability, she’s competitive and doesn't like losing. No matter what the other person cunningly challenges her to.
“Do you know how much alcohol that contains?” Even I have an issue intaking that liquor.
“No, how much?” she inquires as I rinse her body off.
“Not usually more than one-hundred and ninety proof.” I start, “but also, no less than seventy-five percent alcohol.”
“No wonder I feel like a sledgehammer was pounding on my skull and my stomach feels like an alien has invaded.” Her groan has me holding back a chuckle.
“Why did y’all drink so much?” She should know better than to trust anything Outlaw talks her into doing. I don’t know how Mercenary handles her wild ways, I’d have had to leash that shit a long time ago.
“They were trying to calm me down and stop my worry.” She turns around in my arms and I see her gnawing on her bottom lip. “Is, is he gone?” she whispers like there’s someone around who could overhear us.
“He’ll never bother you again,” I say in a normal tone.
“What does that mean exactly?” Her eyes look up and stare into mine.
“Club business, baby. But, I promise you, you’ll never be looking over your shoulder again where he’s concerned.”
“I hate the answer of club business,” she pouts.
I begin getting aggravated with her childish behavior. “Then how about the answer that it’s none of yours.” The look in my eyes unflinchingly displays my displeasure with her.
She turns her back on me and exits the shower. “What are you doing today?” she hastily questions over her shoulder.
“Club business.” Turning off the tub faucet, I step out and grab my own towel. Wrapping it around my waist, I head to my dresser and grab some clothes. Pulling the towel away, I dry my body and quickly dress, needing to get away from her before I say something I’ll regret. I watch in the dresser mirror as she removes her towel, then crawls back into bed and underneath the blanket. My temper flares as I grab my cut and place it over my shoulders. I don’t know why her dismissal angers me, but it does. I go in the bathroom, grab a trash bag from under my sink, and toss my clothes inside from the day before. PeeWee will be discarding our clothing for us and burning all the evidence of our nefarious deeds.
11
Sandman
I stomp my way through the clubhouse. I’m so fucking pissed, Aria knows there are things I’ll never be able to discuss with her, but she’s stubborn and relentless. Always has been. I used to find it a cute quality, now it annoys me to no end. We’ve both changed so much, to the point to where I wonder if we can make it back to the couple we used to be? Or if our relationship is doomed to the way it is now and we’ll never get certain qualities back that we used to have?
At least today, I have someone other than her to take my ire out on. I continue walking past my brothers as they call out their greetings. I slam out the door and head over to my bike. I stash the throwaway clothes in my saddlebag and start her up. The purr of the engine settles something in my chest. My bike tires squeal and rocks fly around me as I haul ass out of the parking lot.
The short drive to our warehouse does nothing to settle the monster within. My throat closes up in indignation with the entirety of our current situation. I always feared my life would be what placed Aria in danger. It turns out her beauty and the innocence she exudes is the most threatening thing in her life. Her being in jeopardy has nothing to do with either myself or my club. On one hand it’s a relief, on the other, I can’t see the threat coming at her which is unsettling. The fury that ignites in my belly with that thought is frenzied by a turbulence I can’t seem to restrain. I want to smash things, destroy those in my path and maim anyone who isn’t in my circle of trust.
Shutting my engine off, I remove my helmet and place it on my seat. I crack my knuckles as I make my way into the warehouse. I’m ready and I’m laser-focused on my target.
PeeWee and Stitches both greet me as I enter, but I just toss the bag of clothing to PeeWee and drown out anything they have to say. There’s only one thing on my mind and with all my demons out and ready to play, I’d hate for them to accidentally find themselves on the receiving end. I glance at Bobby once and notice he’s wide awake, good. There’s never a pause in my stride as I make my way to the zoo.
“Need help with anything, Sand?” Stitches asks hesitantly.
This is exactly what I’m talking about. Briefly I stop and turn to him. I’m really hoping he can interpret the look on my face, because my words will come across as too harsh right now. As intended, but not intentionally, my expression has him tossing his hands up in the air. “I’ll be over here minding my business unless you need me...which I’m sure you’ll let me know,” he tells me through a nervous tone.
Making my way into the zoo, I know exactly what I want; I want one of our widowmakers. There are multiple black widow spiders we always keep on hand and replace as needed. We have to keep them in separate miniature habitats as they will kill one another if not. Can they be deadly to humans? Yes. But mostly, their bite is painful as fuck and causes nausea, vomiting, fever and an array of other discomforts. Yes, today will be all about the insects, their bite or stings, and the aftermath that comes with each one. Today is about becoming the prey from these predators. Bobby will find himself on the receiving end and at the mercy of these creatures. Looks like we’re down to three widows and I plan on using them all.
Grabbing the three jars, I carry them to the table where Merc has left his tools for me as well. As I set them down, I turn to Bobby who’s trying to see exactly what it is I’ve brought out. “I know you can’t speak, but I’m sure you’re wanting to know what these are?” I point back to the jars before looking back at him. “They’re black widows. You’ve heard of them I know. Oh, but don’t worry, there’s more fun to be had. I’m only getting started,” I finish as I walk back into the zoo and grab the jars of centipedes. Again, painful sting that doesn’t cause death, but will make you horribly ill and wish you were. The fire ant farm we have catches my eye as I begin to walk out. There’s not much debating in my head before I grab that, carrying it under my arm.
Once I have everything set out on the table, I grab a pair of gloves not wanting to risk getting bit or stung by any of these insects myself. Grabbing the jars of widows, I walk over to Bobby before setting them on the ground. “You fucking stink.” I cup my chin with my hand and let it rest there as I contemplate removing the strap from his mouth. What the hell, you only live once and I might as well enjoy every last bit of this while I can. I want to hear his cries. I want to hear him beg and plead for mercy as he made Aria do. I’m not easy as I undo and remove it.
“P-please,” he begins to stammer out and I interrupt.
“I’m sure you’re used to hearing those words, huh? Well, prepare to beg some more, Bobby boy. It will be music to my ears and this has been a long time coming. You just couldn’t go away; had to keep testing the waters and what’s mine.” I shake my head. “Oh, I know right now you have regrets, but hey, we all make mistakes, right? This is just one that you won’t be coming back from.”
I grab the first jar, unscrew the top and place it to where the opening is on his shoulder. His eyes desperately try to watch, but his head is restrained and he can only see so much. “Please, Hawke...or Sandman, yes I’m begging! I’ll leave town. You’ll never see or hear from me again. Please!”
Yes, his begging brings about a grin on my face and encourages me to keep going. As I tap the jar, the widow makes her way out and begins crawling; from
his shoulder, she makes her way down his chest. Almost carelessly, I open the next two jars and unleash the final two. I begin provoking them to encourage them to go on the defense and bite. “Oh, come on,” I begin speaking to them, “this is Bobby Kelson and he has a strong dislike and disrespect for women.”
On that note, at least one of them bites to my pleasure as he cries out like a little bitch. “Please goddammit! What do I have to do?”
Ignoring his plea and question as there’s no need for me to answer considering there’s no way out of this for him, I walk back over to the table. I notice something that I hadn’t before; a mouthguard.
“Yo, Stitches,” I call out for his help and as I do this Bobby wails out several more times, bringing another smile to my face. “Those widows must be going to town,” I say to Stitches as he approaches.
“Oh, they will. We’ll have to restock as I noticed you used them all. Anyways, what’s up?” Stitches answers.
Holding up the mouthguard, I ask, “This will hold his mouth open, right?”
“That cheek retractor? Oh yeah. You might need some help though. He might try to fight back by biting down as you place it in there. But I’m here to help,” he offers.
Patting him on the shoulder, I reply, “Thanks, brother.” Holding it up I check it out. Interestingly enough, I’ve never used one on a victim. But, there’s a first time for everything. Picking up the scalpel, an idea comes to mind. “Alright, come help me right quick,” I say to him, holding both pieces and he follows me over to a now visibly crying Bobby.
Holding up the mouthguard and scalpel, I watch as he begins to shake uncontrollably. “Oh, God. No! Help! Please!”
Looking up and then around, I reply, “God’s not here with you, but I am. You’re a slithering snake, Bobby Kelson. The only thing you’re missing is a split tongue. But I’m here to fix that.” I begin laughing uncontrollably; maniacally.
“You’re fucking evil. A demon or the devil in the flesh,” he stutters out. He shifts his gaze to Stitches. “Look at his fucking eyes, man. He’s sick. Help me, please?”
“He’s not the devil in the flesh,” Stitches huffs out. “This is a man scorned. You messed with the one thing that’s his and he holds most precious in this world. This is vengeance, baby. Twisted Iron style.”
Stitches puts on a pair of gloves and as we begin to maneuver and pry Bobby’s mouth open, I warn him, “No idea where the spiders have crawled off to, so be careful.”
About that time, Bobby screams out again and Stitches looks at me. “Well, there’s at least one still pissed off on him somewhere.”
I chuckle and we get the mouthguard in place successfully and without being bitten by Bobby. “Grab those needle nose pliers from the table will ya?” I ask Stitches and he does. Using the pliers, he grabs a hold of Bobby’s tongue and pulls it forward as he struggles to retract it. “Look, I’ll make a deal with you if you stop fighting me on this. You see, well you probably can’t, but I have centipedes over there and an entire fire ant farm waiting for you. Now, I’ll put those back if you just stop fighting this.” I’m lying, but have zero remorse nor one single fuck to give about doing so. We try again, and he’s still giving us hell.
“Here,” PeeWee steps forward with another set of pliers. “You get one side, and I’ll get the other.”
Once they’ve got a firm clamp on his tongue and it’s being held firmly in place, I take the scalpel to the tip of his tongue and begin sawing away. I slice and cut into the tough tissue of the muscle straight down the center as I watch it split and blood squirt onto my shirt before pooling in his mouth.
He begins to make a gurgling sound so Stitches urges that we remove the retractor so that he can at least spit, or drool the blood out. PeeWee and Stitches remove it and again, Bobby urinates all over himself. He’s dripping in sweat from head-to-toe and the odor alone causes us all to grab a face mask. “I-I gonna be sick,” he manages to stammer through his now bleeding and swollen tongue.
All three of us back up immediately as he vomits more of a dry heave combined with blood down his abdomen.
“I’m not anywhere near done with this fucker, but I don’t want him to die on me before I am,” I say, looking at Stitches. “Never thought I’d hear myself say this out loud, but can you administer whatever meds necessary to keep him from keeling over prematurely? Absolutely nothing for pain or nausea, though,” I order, making sure we’re clear.
“I’ll give him a small amount of antivenom through his IV for the widow bites. And, I’ll monitor his breathing. He could end up needing some oxygen. It won’t stop the venom completely from spreading as he’s been bitten multiple times, but it should keep him alive. All that sound okay to you?” he asks me.
“That’s fine. Whatever it takes to keep a pulse on this motherfucker. I’m about to dump the centipedes and ants over the top of his head. So, whatever you have to do, whatever means necessary to keep him alive, please do that,” I urge him. “If you absolutely have to administer a Tylenol or something, then I understand. But no heavy narcotics. No flying high for this snake. Ain’t that right?” I smack Bobby’s cheek forcefully multiple times.
His eyes are beginning to close and I think he’s about wore out already, but I’ve still got two last parting gifts for the day. As I walk back over to the table and grab the centipedes and ant farm, I catch Stitches out of the corner of my eye; he’s already administering something through Bobby’s IV.
“Don’t worry about what I’m doing over here. You just do what you’re gonna and let me do what’s required so you have the highest possibility for your intended outcome,” he says with the cap of a syringe in his mouth.
“Just kill me,” Bobby tiredly requests with his wounded tongue.
“Aww, not yet. That’s too easy. Did you make things easy for Aria? I want you to think about that,” I tell him as I open the container and release the centipedes on his head, and he begins to scream and cry uncontrollably. One slithers its way down his neck and they haven’t appeared to have stung him yet, but they will in no time.
“Ahhh,” he screeches out, giving me my first indicator that one might just have.
“Aren’t they so cute?” I taunt, drawing my fingertips to a steeple just under my chin. “Oh, before I leave you for the night, here’s my last parting gift.” I pour the fire ant farm over the top of his head and immediately they begin their assault.
“No pun intended here, Sandman, but you’re playing with fire; dangerously flirting the line between life and death. I mean, with all these insect stings and poison now flowing through his body...I dunno, man,” Stitches informs me with a concerned look on his face.
“Fine,” I tell him as I turn my back and walk over to the water hose and drag it closer to Bobby. “Stand back,” I order Stitches. “PeeWee, go turn her on.” As soon as the water begins to sputter from the opening, it finally breaks free, bursting into a full-blown spray. I place my thumb over the tip, hoping to make more progress faster. “There. Consider that your bath.” I drop the hose and turn my back. “Do your thing, Stitches. And I’ll see you tomorrow, Bobby boy.”
Lighting up a smoke, I put my helmet on, climb onto my baby and fire her up. That was far too enjoyable for me, but a lot less bloody than I wanted. I shrug it off. I’ve got as much time as I want with this the more I think about it. Who knows how creative I could get, but I plan on finding out.
I take my sweet time on the ride home, reminiscing every little look, squeal and detail from that fucker’s face; and I find myself eagerly awaiting my next chance to go at it again.
Aria
Waking up for the second time today, I feel much better than the first go around. I roll over and lay on my back, keeping my gaze glued to the ceiling as thoughts run rapidly in my head. I hate it when he pushes me away inciting club business as a substitute; not manning up and facing me head on. I’d rather he speak the truth with me, instead of keeping things tucked away in secret. When we first got together in hig
h school we promised each other no lies, but that’s exactly what this feels like. I’ve always known he was going to join the club; it was his extended family. He grew up with these men, they protected him, ensured his safety as best as they could. His father was an abusive son-of-a-bitch and that’s putting things lightly. Or at least that’s the conclusion I’ve brought myself to considering he’s never fully opened up to me about it.
I hurdled walls and hammered away plaster to get myself buried in his heart and soul. This feels like a larger hurdle to jump, he’s more closed off and uses the club to hide behind. If things don’t change between us, I may find myself going my own way. I’ll miss him, and everyone here like crazy, but I deserve to be included in my relationships.
I’m not saying he has to betray his brothers for me, truly I’m not. But when it comes to my safety, especially events involving me, I feel as if I should be included and know if I’m safe or not. I am beginning to feel like an observer in my life. This is not how I want to live; I want to be somewhat in control of my surroundings and fully trust those around me. Right now, I’m questioning everything I thought I knew.
“Knock, knock,” I hear Outlaw say as she rapidly beats her knuckles on the bedroom door.
“It’s locked.” Hawke always engages the lock when he leaves me alone inside. “Give me a second,” I call out. Grabbing the robe that hangs on the back of the bathroom door, I put my arms through the sleeves and tie the belt around my waist. Pulling open the door, I groan out loud when I see the amusement dancing in her eyes. “What are you up to now?” I’m a little worried about what she’s going to say.
“How are you feeling this morning?” She pushes her way past me and invites herself into our room.
“Come on in.” The sarcasm in my tone does nothing to dissuade her from continuing on her current path.
Sandman's Awakening: Twisted Iron MC Page 11