Paladin's Hell

by Manda Mellett

  Calm down, calm down. But it’s dark. Ignore that. The dark won’t be what kills me. Hampered by my hands being tied behind my back, awkwardly using touch only, I trace the seams around the trunk closure, finding nothing that appears might be a mechanism which would open it. It would be better if I knew what I was searching for, but even trying everything, nothing works. If this had been his plan to leave me here, he might have removed anything which would help me escape.

  At last deciding getting out the way I was put in isn’t going to work, I try to kick at the back seats, but there’s not enough room to manoeuvre. I can’t get sufficient weight behind my legs to kick, and my hands, tied so tight that I’m starting to lose feeling, are becoming next to useless.

  It’s getting warm in here. It’s getting harder to breathe. You shouldn’t leave dogs in hot cars in the sun, let alone people. For the first time I’m glad I’m not in Tucson, in that heat, I’d already be dead. But even though the outside temperature might be twenty or thirty degrees cooler, and the sun’s rays a little weaker, the end effect will probably be the same. It might just take a little longer.

  I’m already thirsty, dehydrated. Not yet you’re not. But you will be.

  I’m so scared, I start screaming again.

  What’s his plan? If he’s handing me over to the Herreras, he’ll be back before I’m dead, else he wouldn’t get any money.

  What if I’m wrong? What if my brain just went to the one enemy I knew I had? What if he’s got nothing to do with the Tucson crime family? Perhaps it’s closer to home. Perhaps he wants nothing for me. Only to take me away from Pal.

  Why would he want to hurt his brother?

  If anything about Taser had seemed off before today, I may not have believed him. Wouldn’t have been tricked by him, and certainly wouldn’t have gone anywhere with him. But I’d not had a clue. If Pal suspected anything, he hadn’t warned me. Had he been wrong? Was Taser the man he’d had suspicions about? Was it what I didn’t know that had ended up hurting me? Had he known about Taser?

  I think back to the few short hours ago in the kitchen. There was no indication anything was amiss. Taser had seemed friendly enough with everyone, even Paladin.

  Pal. Tears roll from my eyes. We had our whole lives ahead of us. Now, I don’t know how much of mine I have left.

  Chapter 36

  Hellfire

  I give Demon a nod as he walks into the clubroom. Much as I hate doing this, it’s time. Nothing further has come to light, we’ve no more information as to who could be fucking with us. In the absence of anything else, all fingers seem to point to Runt. He hasn’t done himself many favours, playing on his injury as if it had been near fatal. He’s even got the club girls waiting on him hand and foot. When I insisted he take up bar duties again, he’d made such a song and dance I almost relented. But he can pick up a bottle with one hand. He’s right handed after all; he was shot in his left. Rusty assured me it’s nothing more than a scratch.

  Had I been able to claim Moira, she would never have been raped. Because of my past, I’d allowed the prospects more latitude than they’d have in any of our other chapters. If they want a girl, they can have her. That doesn’t extend to trying to poach the woman of a patched member though. I’d lost even more respect for him when he’d gone head-to-head with Paladin.

  Christ. What a fiasco that had been. Moira’s still working through that shit that happened with Blackie, guess I’d hoped that as thirty-six years of water had passed under the bridge, she would be able to put it behind her. It was a slap in my face to find some wounds remain as fresh as the day they were inflicted. After all this time, it still influences her thoughts and actions.

  That Runt hadn’t helped, had orchestrated the situation to inflame her, only added to the dislike I was beginning to harbour for him. I was loath to accuse a man of something he might not have done, but if he was inclined to cause mischief in the clubhouse, it had made me wonder, what else might he have done?

  Two days I’d given him. Time had run out. With no other suspects on the horizon, Demon’s bringing him down to the basement now.

  I raise my chin toward Mace who immediately leans over the bar, speaking to Dan. The prospect nods, and the music is turned up, AC/DC thumping out through the speakers.

  Thunder gets to his feet, and follows Mace down the stairs, Demon and Runt only just ahead of them. I wait, but nobody seems to have noticed.

  Runt is used to being given shit jobs. He knows what we do in the room beneath the clubhouse, he’s been responsible for laying out plastic sheeting and doing clean up before. Catching up with them as Demon unlocks the door, not unexpectedly I hear him complaining.

  “My arm’s killing me, VP. I’m on light duties.”

  “Don’t worry,” Demon replies. “You’re not going to have to lift a finger.”

  Runt glances around him, noticing for the first time the enforcer and sergeant-at-arms have followed him and the VP down. When his eyes fall on me, they widen. He starts to back up. “Hey, what is this?”

  It’s clear the penny is dropping.

  “We just want to have a chat with you, Prospect,” Demon assures him. He points to a chair sitting on top of a clean section of plastic sheet. “Sit down.”

  “I’ve done nothing wrong.” Runt eyes the chair nervously. “Look, I was just fucking around with Paladin’s woman. I was bored, okay? Was just a joke, didn’t mean anything. How was I to fuckin’ know it would start World War Three?”

  “Not here about that,” Demon tells him. “We want answers to a few questions.”

  Mace steps up. He pulls Runt’s arms behind him, expertly zip-tying his wrists together. I nod. Over the last few months Mace has grown into his role. His face is impassive, and I know he’ll do everything necessary.

  “What the fuck, Mace?” Runt struggles against him, then asks, hopefully, “This part of the initiation for prospects?”

  “Just sit down.” Thunder growls.

  “Prez, what’s going on? I ain’t done anything.”

  He could be right about that. Lazy bastard that he is. But that’s just one more thing to suggest he’s not giving his all to the club.

  “Sit,” Demon instructs, his loud voice booming. When Runt doesn’t obey, he says louder, “For fuck’s sake, do what you’re told. Don’t make this any harder than it has to be. Either you sit, or Mace and Thunder will put you in the fuckin’ chair.”

  As the sergeant-at-arms flexes his not inconsiderable muscles, Runt, lacking in that department, has a look of defeat in his eyes. He takes the couple of steps necessary, his feet tapping against the plastic, and, at last, sits, perching on the edge of the chair looking decidedly uncomfortable.

  I lean against a workbench. It’s covered in tools, all used for one purpose. To get information. I’m only hoping we won’t be using them on an innocent man. Folding my arms across my chest, I let Demon take the lead.

  He doesn’t waste time in asking his first question. “Why did you leave a dead body behind Tits Up?”

  Runt startles. Whatever he’d been expecting, it wasn’t that. I examine his face, watching for any sign of guilt.

  “What the fuck are you talkin’ about, VP? I didn’t.”

  “Where did you find him? Did you go lookin’, or was it just opportune?” Thunder asks questions of his own.

  I’d like to know if it was premeditated too.

  “I didn’t find him. I didn’t go lookin’. Why the fuck are you asking me these questions?”

  Demon looms over him. “Who are you workin’ with?”

  If I hadn’t had such strong suspicions, I’d have believed his half-sobbed response. “I don’t know what the fuck you’re talkin’ about. I’m workin’ my ass off for this club to get my patch. I don’t understand what you’re asking.”

  The prospect’s eyes are flicking wildly between us. It’s debatable how much damage he’s doing to his ass with the amount of work he does, but he’s still trying to get us to believe all
he wants is that patch he’s chasing.

  “Fuckin’ funny way to try to get your patch, Prospect,” Thunder approaches him. “Causin’ trouble for the club.”

  “I’m not causin’ trouble for the club.” Runt’s voice rises. “The dead body had nothing to do with me.”

  “Who did you sell those parts to?”

  “What fuckin’ parts?” Runt cries out.

  “The parts stolen from the auto-shop. You knew they’d been delivered. You were the fuckin’ one to unload them.”

  Runt looks distressed. “I did what I normally do. I helped Pyro when he added them to the stock. Then I didn’t touch them again.”

  Demon leaves him and crosses to me. “Without an admission, we’ve got nothing concrete on him.”

  I wipe my hands over my face, drawing my cheeks down with my fingers. This isn’t something I’m going to enjoy. “Won’t get anything from him without persuasion, VP.” I spare a glance for the man in the chair. “He’s not stupid. If he admits it was him doing that shit, he’ll end up hurtin’, or dead.” We don’t take betrayal lightly. We can’t. It would make us look weak to simply banish him from the club. “We’re on lockdown because of what he’s done. Need to clear this up so people can start living their lives again.”

  “It might not be him,” Demon reminds me.

  “It might not. At the moment, I don’t believe him.”

  My son, brother, stares at me, then after a moment, he raises his chin. “I’ve not heard enough to make up my mind one way or the other. Thing is, it all points to him, doesn’t it?” He lets out a sigh. “Let’s fuckin’ hope we’ve got this right.” Without turning, his eyes still on me, he calls out. “String him up, Brothers.”

  “What? No!” Runt starts protesting loudly. “I’ve done nothing wrong. You’ve got to believe me. I’d never hurt the club. No, please.” The last is almost a scream as Mace and Thunder, none too gently, loop a rope through his already bound hands, and winch his arms up behind him.

  As Thunder kicks the chair away, Runt’s leaning forward. In that position it won’t be long before his shoulders are screaming.

  “I’ve done nothing wrong,” he shouts. “Nothing.”

  “Need the fuckin’ truth.” Demon’s now moved over and is facing him. “Might not have anything to link you to the body, but you were one of the few people to know those custom parts were delivered, and you were the only person who was out front when you got shot.”

  “I was shot,” Runt repeats in a screech. “You can’t be suggestin’ I put myself in the line of fire? The way those bullets were flyin’ I could have been killed.”

  “Could have shot yourself.” Thunder shakes his head. Yeah, Demon and I had shared our suspicions. “Fuckin’ lucky the drive-by happened when everyone else was out back.”

  Demon nods at Mace, who yanks the winch.

  Runt screams in pain. “My shoulders. You’re fuckin’ dislocatin’ them. Oh, man. Let me down. It fuckin’ hurts.”

  “One way to get us to stop, Prospect. Give us something to make us believe you.”

  “I can’t,” Runt sobs, then cries out, “I don’t know anything. I didn’t do anything. Oh, fuck, no. Please stop.” Tears, either of pain, or in realisation of the seriousness of his situation, start to leak from his eyes and roll down his face.

  Mace steps over to the workbench. The look he gives me is full of distaste for what he’s about to do. Christ, torturing our enemies is bad enough, but one of our own? Someone we thought we could trust? I acknowledge the expression he’s wearing, then step to the side to give him room to choose which implement he’s going to use.

  “No!” Runt screams as my movement has brought his attention to the tools I’d previously been hiding. “No, please God, no!”

  The VP holds out his hand, motioning Mace to stay where he is. “Runt. A dead body on our premises, a theft of a few hundred dollars of shit. A shootin’ where only you got hurt. Apart from the resultin’ lockdown that’s been inconvenient, you haven’t brought serious damage to the club yet.” He pauses, to let that sink in. “Admit it was you. Give us the reason. Tell us who you are workin’ with. You won’t make a patched member, but you’ll leave here alive. I promise you that.” Another brief period of silence. “Tell us the truth and this stops right now.”

  Runt’s shaking his head. Demon indicates Mace to come forward. Suddenly Runt’s shouting again. “I can’t fuckin’ tell you what isn’t true. I can’t make up the reason I did what you accuse me of as I didn’t fuckin’ do it. I’m not workin’ with anyone so I can’t tell you their fuckin’ name. You’re going to kill me for no reason. However much you hurt me, I can’t say anything you want to hear.

  “I’ve not been the best prospect, I know that. But I fuckin’ love this club. I’ll do anything to become a member. This is the life I want. I’d never do anything to jeopardise that.” He pauses, looks between us, pleading eyes resting on us one by one. “Don’t do this. There’s nothing I can tell you unless I make shit up. You don’t want me as a prospect? Will fuckin’ kill me, but I’ll leave today. You just got to believe me, I’d do nothing to hurt this club.”

  I don’t believe him. That’s the problem. Demon looks at me, sadly I shake my head. Then Mace is moving forward again. Seeing what he’s holding, Thunder nods, moves behind Runt and takes a firm hold of his hand.

  The enforcer’s carrying pliers. “One last chance, Runt. Or say goodbye to your fingernails. Hurts like shit, or so I’m told.”

  Runt’s sobbing loudly, aware there’s nothing he can say to convince us. Reluctantly I’m impressed as his resolve to stay quiet.

  “Wait,” says Demon. Mace pauses. “Anyone got a hold over you, boy? Someone you’re afraid of more than us? You working for someone with a grudge against the club?”

  As Runt’s mouth opens and closes, for a second I wonder if Demon’s on the right track. But when he shakes his head, I can’t tell if there is someone who he’s not naming, or if he’s innocent of everything we’re accusing him of. It’s that doubt that turns my stomach. But there’s only one way to find out.

  “Get on with it, Mace,” I instruct.

  Chapter 37

  Paladin

  “Jeez, Brother. You okay?”

  I take the hand Shooter’s holding out, gratefully accepting his help to get to my feet. Gingerly I shake out my arms, and check out my legs, flexing my limbs. I’ll have a good selection of bruises to come I expect, but nothing’s broken or permanently damaged.

  My bike though, that’s a mess. It’s scraped up badly. As I’ve been checking out my limbs, Shooter’s picked it up, and kicked down the stand. It leans forlornly.

  “Looks rideable,” Shooter says.

  “Stupid fuckin’ thing to do,” I curse myself. Should have been riding more carefully. But I’d been so anxious to get back to the club. The bend had been sharper than I’d expected.

  “Got a fuckin’ graze on your face, Brother. You bang your head?”

  Probably, yes, if the ringing in my ears is any indication. But I brush it off. “I’m fine to ride. Need to get back.”

  He looks at me carefully, then, clearly seeing nothing to worry him, goes to his bike. “Let’s get going then. We’ll take it easy. You feel dizzy we’ll pull over and stop. Not any real need to hurry, Pal. Taser won’t know we’re onto him.”

  Touching my hand to my scalp, I’m not surprised to feel the stickiness of blood. I ignore it, paying attention instead to the sense of urgency that’s eating away at my gut. Despite what Shooter’s said, I feel a strange need to get moving. I’ve got to get back. Point the finger in Taser’s direction. Let everyone know he’s gone bad. I have no idea of the reason, but expect there’s something in his closet that maybe others who’ve ridden beside him for longer will be able to find.

  Grimacing as I see the dent on my tank and fender, I start the engine. It roars, nothing, luckily seems wrong with it. Ignoring the various pains in my body, knowing they’re just superficial
, I take off again, this time, keeping the speed down.

  I need to take this to an officer. Mace or Thunder. Demon if he’s around. I’d rather not go straight to Hellfire, but will if I have to. The burning intuition suggests there’s no time to waste. I’ve never trusted Taser, now I know he’s responsible for at least the break-in. The body dumping makes sense as well, he’d have fucking known those cameras weren’t showing the dumpster. As for who he was working with? Probably his cousin who benefited from the parts.

  While I don’t know why, I suspect his actions are going to escalate to something worse. No one goes against the club without good reason. It’s far too risky. Once started, it’s something that needs to be finished. He’s got some plan, it’s down to me to make sure he doesn’t complete it.

  Wills opens the gate allowing Shooter and I onto the compound. We park.

  “Got to make sure someone knows about this, Brother.”

  My chin raise is the only answer he gets.

  Hellfire had called church for later, so the number of brothers milling around doesn’t surprise me. Pyro acknowledges me with a raise of his hand. Taser’s holding court by the bar with Lizard and Ink. One by one my eyes roam over my brothers, but I see none of the four men I want. I do notice music is playing loudly.

  Shooter raises his eyebrow; I shake my head. Rusty is sitting by the end of the bar, his sharp eyes have spotted my injuries. He stands and approaches leaning in close so he can be heard over AC/DC. “What the fuck happened? What does the other guy look like?”

  Shooter grins. “The ground came off best.”

  “Huh. Landed dirty side down?” Rusty’s hand lands on my shoulder, and his eyes examine me. “You alright, lad?”

  I don’t respond wanting to waste no time reassuring him, neither have I time for him to check me out. I brush away his touch and concern. “Rusty, I need to speak to one of the officers. Is Hell in his office.”