Crank_Ruthless Bastards

by Chelsea Handcock

“Yeah, man, Shade. He has some information we both think you need to see before this meeting, so you can deal with it and prepare for the meeting at County.”

  “What are we talking about here? What information?”

  “The case file, Brother. Cathy’s victim statement and what those fuckers said went down. You have three days to let it all sink in. He’s going to meet us at the old motel on State Route 64. I asked him to pick a place where you’ll have the privacy you’ll need to look over everything. To deal with it, wrap your head around all of it, and get back into the game. I’ve seen most of it, Brother, and this shit is going to be hard, but I think you need to do it. Otherwise, I wouldn’t have set it up.”

  “You know, she wouldn’t let me be in the room when she gave her statement. Couldn’t even look me in the eye for days after she woke up from surgery. But I saw her, Tuck. I saw every bruise, cut, and scrape. I saw the dullness in her eyes. Hell, I begged her to let me hold her hand, just to be there for her, but she refused, saying it was something she needed to do on her own. That she wouldn’t be able to say the stuff that happened to her if I was listening. And you know what? A part of me doesn’t want to know what she went through. Another part of me needs to know, can you understand that?”

  “Yeah, I can understand that, Crank. I also know once you read that shit, it’s going to change you. That you’re going to want their blood, and it will be even harder for you to be in that room at the end of the week.”

  “I’m not going to deny that, hell, I already know it. But I have to keep on reminding myself we need the information more. That retribution will be served in the end. You’re just going to have to remind me of that once it’s said and done.”

  “I have your back, Crank, always will. I’ll also have a fifth of Jack and several of the guys waiting at the warehouse.”

  “Did you ask for volunteers,” Crank laughed, “or did you just give an order for these guys to get their asses kicked?”

  “Didn’t need to ask for shit, Brother. Link was the first one to mention it, and the others followed suit. The RBMC will always have your six. You need us, we’re there.”

  Chapter 10

  Cathy walked into Dr. Maxwell’s office and took a seat in front of her desk. Kayla and Katie had told her the woman was good, but Cathy didn't believe it. She had been here for almost a week, and she wasn’t feeling any better, she was actually feeling worse.

  Right now, though, she felt like she was being called to the principal’s office. She had refused to talk in her group session, and when one of the other patients started talking about what happened to her, Cathy got up and walked out of the room. It was rude and disrespectful to that woman, but she couldn’t listen. She couldn’t hear the words that woman was saying and not think about her own experience.

  Right now, the good doctor was scribbling notes into one of her many files and ignoring Cathy. Which was ridiculous because she was the one who had called her down there, homework in hand. She wanted to say something like, Ah, you called me down here or Why am I here if you’re not going to look up and at least talk to me? But she didn’t, she just sat there and waited.

  “Just give me a second, Cathy, I’m running behind today,” the woman said, not looking up at her. What was with this doctor? It seemed like the only time she paid attention was when Cathy had to describe, in detail, what had happened to her. Was she some kind of freak or something? Cathy was so caught up in her thoughts, she hadn’t realized the doctor had stopped writing and was looking at her.

  “I’d pay you a penny for those thoughts, but I don’t think I would like them very much, now would I?” Dr. Maxwell stated.

  “Probably not.”

  “You know, it’s perfectly natural to be angry at me and everyone else. You have that right. It’s all part of the process of healing.” When Cathy still just sat there in silence, the doctor continued, “I see you brought the journal I asked you to write in. Is it okay if I read it?”

  “Do I have a choice?” Cathy snarked.

  “Yeah, actually you do. If you feel more comfortable keeping the journal to yourself, then that’s what will happen. You aren’t in prison here, Cathy, you’re here of your own free will and can leave at any time. I was under the impression you wanted to work through some issues you’ve had since your abduction and rape. If that’s not the case, then we can stop this right now, and I’ll recommend another doctor to take your case.”

  Cathy thought about it; she’d been acting like a bitch, and none of this was the doctor’s fault. She was just angry.

  “No, I’m fine with you reading it; it’s just very personal.”

  “I can respect that, Cathy, and it won’t go any further than this office. Do you want to tell me anything before I begin reading it?”

  “You told me to write down my feelings, but when I started to, it just didn’t seem right, so I wrote a letter to my boyfriend.”

  “Okay,” the doctor said, putting out her hand for the journal. Cathy handed it over, and when the doctor started to read, Cathy thought about the words she had written, what she said to Crank.

  Week One–Friday Cathy’s Journal

  Damn Collin,

  I don’t know what I’m doing here, did I make the right choice? Did we? You yelled at me, said I needed to get help, that I needed to talk to someone, but damn it, I tried, you just weren’t listening. You were the one who decided to pull away when all I wanted was for you to hold me in your arms. To tell me everything was going to be okay. That you didn’t think differently or less of me because of what happened. That you didn’t blame me. Why couldn’t you do that?

  You were there, but the way you looked at me, with guilt and pity in your eyes. The way you treated me like I was going to break at any second if you made the wrong move or said the wrong thing. It killed me a little each day. When you decided to move out of our bedroom because ‘I needed space’ to feel comfortable sleeping because of my injuries, I wanted to scream, NO, but I didn’t because you needed that. You needed the distance, and your girl always gives you what you want, right? Isn’t that what you always said?

  Now, I’m here talking like you wanted. Guess what? It doesn’t help, it just brought it all back up again. It made me remember the feel of their hands on my body, the helplessness and hopelessness I felt with each punch and thrust of their bodies into mine. It made me think about how they told me over and over again that they had already killed you and no one was going to be coming after me. That they could do what they wanted for however long they wanted, and nothing would happen to them.

  It made me think of the pain, there was so much. Is that what you want to hear? Is that what you needed me to say, that they hurt me, that I will never be the same person I was before? That I blame me for this happening? That I’m different and less of a person? That I couldn’t fight them off? That I wasn’t strong enough? Is that it, does that make it better?

  There are so many whys running around in my head, I can’t pick just one. Why me, why you, why any of it. I’m so mad right now, you don’t even get it. There’s a part of me that wants to hate you, put all the blame for this on your shoulders and just move on. But I can’t because you aren’t to blame. It has just gotten so easy for me to put all the big stuff on you and let you deal with it.

  You are my man. Aren’t you supposed to be there through thick and thin? The first awful thing happens and you shut down, leave me to deal with it on my own. I DON’T KNOW HOW. I don’t know how to do this without you. Maybe that’s the problem, this is one thing you can’t do for me, and that pisses me off.

  Why Collin? Why now? Damn, I’m getting sick of that word.

  You know, the last time I saw you, you were so drunk, and it was the first time you held me in your arms since this whole thing happened. It made me realize maybe you were right, I needed to do something for both of us and get some help. I could hear the hurt when you said, don’t leave me, but I also remember the words you said before. That you couldn’t d
eal with this anymore that you were leaving. Why would you say those things to me?

  Cathy.

  Cathy could almost see every word as the doctor read. When Dr. Maxwell finally finished it, shutting the journal and handing it back to Cathy without a word, she was confused.

  “Do you know what my first responsibility to my patient is, Cathy?”

  “To do no harm?”

  “Yeah, that’s one of them, but it’s finding a treatment plan which best suits the individual. What you put down in this letter is the most honest you’ve been since you got here.”

  “I don’t know, Doc. I think I was pretty honest when I told you about what happened to me.”

  “Yes, you were, but you were also detached. This letter lets me know how you’re feeling. I’m going to take you out of group therapy and recommend you keep writing. I’ll schedule an appointment for you every day either with me or one of the other therapists to go over what you’ve written. I’m also going to recommend you write letters to everyone—your attackers, your friends, your family, the police officer who took your statement—anyone you can think of who has affected the way you feel about this. One a day. You can continue to write to Collin as you like, even keep them to yourself, but the others I would like you to share.”

  “I don’t understand how that’s going to help. It isn’t like I’ll ever mail these letters to the people I’m writing to.”

  “It’s not about the letters themselves, it’s about you expressing yourself. Learning from what you’ve written and dealing with it. For instance, after you wrote this, how did you feel?”

  “Shitty, actually. I put all the blame and my anger from this week on Collin.”

  “Are you sure about that, because that isn’t what I read in here?” the doctor asked, pointing to the book. “I think you took those things you’ve been holding back, the words you wanted to say, but didn’t and put them down on paper. You wrote them, they aren’t just in your mind anymore, they’re printed on a piece of paper, tangible. Do you see where I’m going? Now, let me ask you again. After you were done writing this letter, how did you feel? But think about it this time. Don’t say what you think you should or what you’ve been trained to say in the past. Just what you felt.”

  “Relieved.”

  Cathy realized it was true, she’d been relieved. Crank had hurt her by his actions, and she hadn’t said one thing to stop him. She just went along with it, and that was wrong. He wasn’t an unreasonable man; maybe if she’d said something, things wouldn’t have gotten so bad.

  “There’s no right or wrong that’s something you need to learn. If you’re feeling something, you need to say it; whether that happens by talking about it or writing about it that’s your choice. Now, are you ready to get to work?”

  “I’m not making any promises, Dr. Maxwell, but I’ll try. I’ll try this way with you, I’ll write the letters, but I want to keep the letters I write to Collin to myself.”

  “Have you considered asking him to come up for a session or even a visit?”

  “Yes and no, I’m not going to do either. I think it’s time I learned how to deal with a few things on my own. Figure out who I am and where I want to be. Try to move forward without leaning on anyone but myself, for once. Does that make sense?”

  “It does, Cathy, and I’ll help you get there. That’s one promise I can make.”

  “Thank you, Dr. Maxwell.”

  Chapter 11

  Crank got into the cage, there was no other word for the SUV, it caged you unlike riding on a bike. Tuck was already there; it had been a few days since the two had seen each other.

  “Damn, Brother, you look like shit. How are you feeling?”

  “I feel like shit,” Crank grunted.

  “Yeah, that’s what happens when you go on a two-day bender, only to get up long enough to go a couple of rounds in the ring. I don’t think there’s a guy at the club who isn’t sporting a bruise or bandage. Hell, that new prospect, Jon, haven’t seen him yet, he went running home crying to his mommy. You could have at least cut the newbies some slack.”

  Tuck was right, and Crank knew it, but he hadn’t been able to hold back.

  “Well,” Crank said, “if you wouldn’t accept pussies, we wouldn’t be having this conversation now, would we?”

  “Pussies, my ass, that man was solid until you got your hands on him.”

  “Solid, please. If he can’t take on one drunk ass guy in the ring, how the hell would he handle several unknowns on a mission. Better to weed them out before the shit hits the fan.”

  “Dude, seriously, when you’re drunk, running on hate, it’s like taking on a platoon.”

  “Whatever,” Crank said, adjusting his sunglasses and rubbing his temples. He was getting too old for this shit, but he had needed something to burn off the anger he was carrying around. Reading the crime scene report and Cathy’s victim statement had almost thrown him over the edge. He hadn’t been there when she gave it, and that was just another regret to add to the never-ending list he had going on in his head.

  “You up for this?”

  Crank knew what Tuck was asking; would he be able to hold himself together enough not to kill the fuckers they were about to meet with his bare hands? He didn’t have a good answer to that because he wasn’t sure. He knew what was at stake, and he would do his best, but he wasn’t going to make any more promises he couldn’t keep.

  “As I’ll ever be. Let's get this show on the road. I have a feeling I’m going to need that bottle of Jack that Blade has waiting for me by the time we get back to the Clubhouse.”

  It didn’t take them long to get to County, the place was just outside of town. The building was old, had seen better days, and had always given Crank the creeps. Neither he nor Tuck was wearing their cut, just street clothes; they didn’t want to risk being recognized. Shade was doing them a favor, and they wouldn’t put the other man in any danger of repercussions because of it.

  Walking into the building, even with his sunglasses on, the bright industrial lighting stung his already pounding brain. Shade met them at the door and did all the preliminaries, making sure neither was holding any weapons. Crank guffawed at the stupidity of all of it. His hands were the only weapons he needed to take out these two pieces of shit.

  Shade took them off to the side where the other officers at the desk wouldn’t hear what he was saying. Crank doubted there would be any problem, otherwise, Shade wouldn’t be doing it. When the man started talking, Crank realized the reason for the off to the side conversation. Shade was covering his bases with him, he wanted to make sure Crank wasn’t about to do anything stupid. When Crank only grunted, the man moved on.

  “Okay, I’m having the officer bring Tommy down first. He’s the one who’s going to break first. I also made sure he saw us take his partner Domino into the interrogation cell next to his.”

  Crank just crossed his arms over his chest and leaned up against the wall. He knew this game, it was all about the mind fuck. He was pretty sure Shade and the boys made it look like Domino was getting special treatment. If they thought Tommy was the weak link, they would want him to sweat a little, make him think about what was going down in the other room. Crank was just ready to get on with it. He needed to know where the other fucker was hiding out, and right now, this seemed like his only way of getting that information.

  When Shade led him and Tuck to the interrogation room, he had to clench his fists to hold himself back from jumping the piece of shit sitting at the table. The fucker couldn’t have been more than twenty. He was scrawny as all hell and dirty. The fucker was smiling at him with his decayed and broken teeth on full display. If that didn’t tell Crank he was a tweaker, the scabs on his exposed arms and the greenish hue to his skin would have.

  “Well, if it isn’t the President and Road Captain of the Ruthless Bastards, or should I call you the Enforcer? That’s your real title, isn’t it?” the asshole said, looking right at Crank. His whiny voice grated on
Crank’s nerves, but that statement proved the little piece of shit wasn’t as stupid as Crank thought. He knew exactly who they were and what they were there for. The little prick looked right at him. “How’s that old lady of yours? Heard she found a real man, well a couple of them. A pussy that tight is hard to come by, considered taken her tongue out though because that bitch can scream.”

  Crank lunged for him, but Tuck was faster, holding him back. The little pissant was laughing his ass off. Shit, Crank knew better than this; the fucker was baiting him, and he was falling right into it. Crank had been involved in numerous interrogations, and that was the first thing you learn, detach yourself from the situation and learn. Pushing Tuck off, he walked over to the table and sat down. Putting a shit-eating grin on his face, leaning back in the chair, he made himself comfortable, staring at Tommy. The man started to squirm a little, but kept his mouth shut for all of two minutes.

  “Officer Kincaid, I believe this little meeting is against my civil rights.”

  “Oh, Tommy Boy,” Crank lifted his eyebrow at that statement, still staring, “now, I wouldn’t be complaining about your rights, since no one knows we're here, there aren’t any rights being violated,” Crank said, smiling at the man. When Shade walked out of the room, Crank got immense satisfaction as the man started to scream out after him. It looked like the fucker was finally getting a clue.

  “I’m not talking to you fuckers,” the man said with enough false bravado to make both Tuck and Crank laugh. This fucker was going to spill, they just needed to give him the right incentive.

  “Not sure I agree with you, Tommy Boy. See, this is a onetime offer of protection, where you’re going you’re going to need it. Heard that Snake cut ties.” Crank knew that would get the other mans attention. Snake was the current President of the Vultures. Him cutting ties with the man meant that he had no protection and in jail that was a bad place to be. Crank continued to taunt the man, “County is a cake walk compared to State, just think of those showers,” Crank said with a fake shiver.