Tiny smirked at Raven and said, “I propose we put a fucking chip in them like Miller did to his old lady, Stormy.”
“I ain’t getting no fucking chip in me. Miller is kinky as hell; he’s into dominating a bitch. Plus, they go out of the country and shit. If his bitch gets kidnapped, he needs to be able to find her,” Raven countered.
“Miller is into owning his old lady’s pussy,” Tiny laughed, “and so am I. I need to own that shit, girl.”
“You already own it,” she purred and leaned in to kiss him.
“Yeah, well, you’re at least carrying one in your purse.”
“And if they get separated from their purses?” Preacher questioned. “Y’all remember that brother whose kid got kidnapped? Motherfuckers took the boy all the way down into Mexico. If it hadn’t been for the Dauntless chapter in Eagle Pass, that poor kid would be dead or sold off into God knows what. Hell of a lot more dangerous for women when it comes to the sex trade too.”
An ominous pall fell over the group and Tiny broke the spell by speaking. “You trust Ricky enough to take him in with you tonight, Preacher.”
“Yeah, I do. He hasn’t given me any reason not to yet.”
“Take him with you, and I want him taking down plate numbers. Hackman can get Intel on every motherfucker comin’ in our strip joint. Tell Ricky to keep an eye peeled for a black Ford F-150 Harley series. I want to know if this is stalker related or an opposing club. Either way, I’m gonna get answers from somebody.”
Preacher rubbed his hands together in anticipation. “I do love a good interrogation.”
“That’s ‘cause you’re a certifiable nutcase.”
“That’s a little like the pot callin’, don’t ya think, Tiny?”
“I think it’s a prerequisite for bein’ Dauntless MC.”
That got a laugh out of everybody.
“Back to the matter at hand, boys and girls. The tracking devices, you ADD motherfuckers,” he chuckled. His next question was directed at Nitro. “How many of those tracking devices have you got operational?”
“Five up and running so far,” he stated, looking up from the workbench where he was working on an explosive device. He pushed the magnifying glasses he wore up on his head and eyed his brothers. “I got the mother of all tracking devices for my old lady whenever I get one who is crazy enough for my liking. First lady Raven can use it for now, Tiny.”
“Shouldn’t be hard finding a crazy old lady for you, Nitro. We’ve already concluded it’s a prerequisite for being Dauntless.” He shook his head and took on a more serious tone. “I appreciate you letting her use something you’ve put so much of your crazy love into.”
Nitro shook his head solemnly. “I’d do anything for you and Raven. I got mad, crazy love for the members of this club, and without the two of you… well, I don’t even want to think about it. I’ll do you one better than that. The one I set up for my future old lady is a watch. I can have two more done by tonight. That way, you boys won’t ever have to worry about your women getting separated from you or their purses.”
“God help anybody who comes near my woman,” Preacher said as he kissed the top of Daisy’s head again. We need to get these girls some heat with no serial numbers, some burners, and I ain’t talking about fucking cell phones.”
“I’ve already got two I carry and a hatbox full of ‘em on hand,” Raven offered.
“Get Daisy one. You know how to shoot, girl?” Tiny asked.
“Yeah,” Daisy sheepishly smiled.
Preacher glared down at his woman, “Question is, would you?”
Everybody stared in her direction, waiting for her answer.
“You’re asking me that after last night’s escapade?”
“Good point,” Raven mumbled and then spoke up so everyone could hear her.
“I damn sure got caught off guard last night. I never saw that coming. I mentioned setting Kathleen straight, and next thing I knew, she was on that shit. Ole Daisy Dukes jumped on Kathleen before anyone could stop her, not that we would’ve.”
“While we’re talking about Ricky taking down plate numbers, put Ghost on that bitch, Kathleen. I’ve never seen anyone who can sneak around like that man. Makes me wonder if the dude has a fetish for stalking.”
“You’ve got Derrick and Justine doing surveillance,” Preacher noted.
“Problem with that is they could get called away, and our bitches are left in the wind. Not going to happen on my watch,” Tiny growled. “They’re doing the surveillance for the club on the down low, and it’s highly probable they could get called in on another case.”
“I know that’s right. Good point.”
Preacher nodded as Tiny concluded the conversation. “Go get her set up with the gun, Raven, and I don’t want you girls off this compound until you’re wearing those trackers. That includes Red, so let her know what’s going on.”
“Yep, I gotta watch after my two sidekicks,” she answered.
Preacher kissed his woman, already feeling better about her safety. A brother couldn’t be too careful, not in the lifestyle he’d chosen.
He joined Tiny as he was making his way over to the workbench. They both eyed Nitro as he spoke, “How far along are you on the device?”
Nitro looked up at him through his thick magnifying glasses, “It’s some tedious shit, Prez. Got to be done right, so I’m taking my time. I’m thinking by this weekend though.”
“Good, we can catch ‘em while their partying. Nobody can crash a party like Dauntless MC.”
“I know that’s right,” Preacher agreed.
“Oh, I’m lookin’ forward to this one,” Nitro said.
“As we all are, my brother.” Tiny patted his back.
Though Preacher didn’t voice it, he was looking forward to blowing Hell’s Demons off the map too. It would be great timing to have Billy out of the way for good since he was patching Daisy in. It would give her the new beginning Preacher knew she wanted. He had witnessed her tears and late night worries first hand, and there was no better present he could give her right now than that new beginning she so desperately craved.
Daisy
Daisy sat on Raven’s bed and watched as her friend grabbed a hatbox from the top of her closet.
“What’s your flavor, baby? Do you prefer a lady’s gun like a Derringer, better known as a Saturday Night Special or, as we here at the club have dubbed it, the Dauntless Covert due to its size? Or maybe a Glock would suit you better. Hell, I’ve even got a 357 Magnum.” Raven looked at her in askance as she sat down on the bed next to her other best friend.
Daisy felt a little overwhelmed watching Raven, who seemed completely in her element when dealing with a multitude of firearms. “You guys nickname your weapons? Damn, Raven, do you think you have enough guns?”
“We, here in the 1% of society, are known for nicknaming people and things. Take you for example, Dukes, you’ve officially been dubbed,” she laughed. Now, as far as your other question, a girl’s got to protect herself in this lifestyle.” She looked at Daisy and placed her hand over hers, suddenly taking on a serious tone. “There are people out there who hate our men. They know if they fuck with a member’s old lady, it will cut and cut deeply. We are looking at dangers a man doesn’t have to deal with. I’ve known women who’ve been abducted and gang raped. This club isn’t down with that shit. No matter how much our brothers hate a rival club, they deal with that hatred man to man. I know a woman who ended up in the crazy house after she was held hostage and gang raped by a rival club for three days. She was never right in the head after that shit happened. It devastated the club, her old man, and every chapter in the club when she committed suicide.”
“How did she kill herself?”
“She saved her meds, hiding them under her tongue until she had enough for a cocktail of death, and she OD’ed on them.”
“Was she from this club?” Daisy asked, feeling the anxiety from what Raven was telling her.
“Ahh h
ell no, retribution would have been swift and brutal on that type of offense. No, this was a chick from another MC. I’m just waking you up to our reality. You’ve got enemies out there and shit can get real, real fucking fast.”
“Speaking of enemies, who do you think is doing all this shit to you?”
“I don’t know, and like the boys said, the mystery of it all makes it more dangerous.”
Daisy watched as Raven ran her hands over the Derringer she held in her lap. “Now, this baby right here is small, but just like you, it gets the job done and packs a punch. Did you know it was a Derringer that John Wilkes Booth used to assassinate Lincoln?”
“How’d you get so smart?”
“I came from an upper middle class home where my parents sent me to Catholic school. That, and I’ve always loved to read.”
“Yeah, I’m a reader too. At times, I wonder if that isn’t what kept me from being completely uneducated. School, for me, was more about survival than learning.”
“Let me know if you want to borrow any of my downloaded books. I’ve got over ten thousand of them. Raven looked up through her dark lashes. It was the first time Daisy could ever remember Raven looking shy.
“Okay, the Derringer it is,” Daisy said as she took the gun. Your knowledge of its history has sold me.” She chuckled and turned to give Raven a hug. “I love ya, girl, and thanks... for everything.”
“I love you too, and I’ll do anything to protect you, Daisy. You can take that statement to the bank.”
Chapter Thirty
Preacher
Preacher turned and eyed the strip club’s door as it opened. Kathleen sauntered in accompanied by some male he didn’t recognize.
That’s odd. Why would she bring a customer to work with her rather than meet him here? Hmm.
She wore huge, dark sunglasses and wouldn’t meet his eyes when he glanced at her.
Good, maybe Daisy’s ass whipping from last night worked.
He watched curiously as she made her way back to the dressing room after she gave a little head nod, directing the guy who escorted her towards a darkened booth in the corner.
Preacher couldn’t help but think that the guy was awfully young to be frequenting a strip joint. He couldn’t remember ever seeing the guy in the club before, and something in his gut didn’t feel right. He looked for tattoos on any exposed areas of the guy’s skin, but the denim jacket he was wearing didn’t reveal much. He wasn’t wearing colors, but that didn’t necessarily mean anything as he could have left that in the car. Preacher didn’t see any biker boots, heavy silver jewelry, or the thick leather wristbands that bikers were apt to wear either. Maybe the guy was just some college kid. His phone rang and kept him from further inspection of the stranger.
“You might want to call some back-up. That truck you had me keeping an eye out for just pulled up with that sweetbutt, Kathleen, and some guy I’ve never seen before. I’m assuming they’ve already made their way inside the club?” Preacher knew Ricky had asked the question to ensure Preacher had a visual on the guy.
“Yeah, I’ve got eyes on him,” he answered. “Get Gunner and Beecher here, and then copy that plate down for Hackman.”
“I already got the plate and called it in to him.”
“Good job, prospect. Tonight, you get to see a real interrogation. I hope you can stomach it; it’ll tell me a whole lot about you if you can’t. Being that it’s my name on the line if you don’t make the cut, I’d suggest you do two things: man up, and be trustworthy concerning all things Dauntless. You’re going to get an up close and personal look of what I’ll do to you if you ever let me down.”
“As long as it’s not me in the hot seat, I can stomach it. I’m cool, right?”
Preacher chuckled, “Yeah, you traumatized motherfucker, you’re cool. Now, get off the phone and get those two brothers here ASAP.”
“I’m on it, Captain.”
“Good, ‘cause I’m not taking my eyes off these two shits.”
He hung up the phone and looked over to see Daisy eyeing him with curiosity. He just slightly shook his head in an attempt to let her know everything was okay. He knew they were going to have to move quickly to get everybody out of here without causing a scene. He didn’t want to scare the customers; scaring customers meant losing money.
He saw Kathleen as she exited the dressing room sans sunglasses, and once again, she avoided his gaze. Even in the club’s dim lighting, the black eye she was sporting, courtesy of Daisy, was pretty obvious. She’d done a decent job covering the bruising with make-up, but nothing could hide the subconjunctival hemorrhaging. Even at this distance, he could see that the whole white part of her eye was bright red.
He reached back under his kutte and touched the Glock he kept hidden in the waistband of his jeans when he heard the telltale sound of Harleys pulling up outside. When the two brothers entered, he gave a slight nod over in Kathleen’s direction. The boys nodded, signifying they understood the silent command.
With his brothers here to take care of Kathleen, Preacher stalked over to the booth where both she and her mystery man were sitting. He stood behind the man, his voice a low growl as he leaned down to speak in his ear. “You, and this young lady you’re sittin’ here with, are going to calmly get up and go get in that pretty, black truck you’re driving so we can have a little chat.”
“I’m not going anywhere with you, motherfucker.”
“Wrong answer,” Preacher told him, and then he clamped down on the artery in the man’s neck that supplied blood to his brain. He maintained the hold just long enough to render the man unconscious. He then hissed in Kathleen’s direction, “You cause us any problems walking out of here, and last night’s ass beating you got from my old lady won’t even begin to measure up to what you’ll get tonight. I’ll cut not only Daisy loose on your ass, but Raven as well.” He watched as her eyes got wide with fear, and she nodded her head in compliance.
Preacher got Daisy’s attention and then jerked his head towards the door. She was sitting with Raven and two customers, but as soon as she saw the look on his face, she nodded and grabbed Raven’s hand. The girls jumped up, grabbed their purses from behind the bar, and followed Preacher out to the parking lot.
“Boy just had too much to drink,” Preacher said to all the curious onlookers as he carried the unconscious man out of the bar. He held him up with a muscled arm hooked around his waist, mimicking the way one would help a close friend who had one too many. Though the man’s feet were dragging, he was upright, and Preacher was strong enough to easily maneuver him out of the club.
After walking around the corner and into the parking lot, Preacher watched as Gunner fished through the man’s pockets and then threw the keys in Ricky’s direction, commanding the prospect to get behind the wheel. Preacher threw the man’s dead weight in the backseat and then grabbed the zip ties he brought for just this occasion. After securing the prisoner’s arms behind him at the wrist, Preacher zip tied his ankles together, and then went to work on Kathleen. He had just finished securing the sweetbutt when he heard the man speak.
“Hey, hey, what…” was all the man got out as he began to regain consciousness. Just as he realized he was restrained and started to struggle, Gunner delivered a blow to his jaw that caused the man’s head to, once again, slump down on his chest, ceasing all movement.
Preacher grabbed the bandana he had on his forehead and gagged Kathleen, deciding zip ties alone weren’t enough to subdue her. He sure as hell didn’t want to listen to her bitch the whole way home. He then directed his attention to Ricky who would be driving. “You don’t stop for nothing. Don’t let thinking with your cock even come into play. You can forget about prospecting if you do, and you got nowhere to go. Dauntless is your last fucking chance for any kind of redemption in this town.”
Ricky frantically nodded his head in agreement.
“I’ll ride in the backseat and put a fucking bullet in his brain if he even looks like he’s going off c
ourse,” Raven hissed.
“Don’t want to leave your SUV here, babe. Don’t want somebody cutting the fucking brake line, especially after Grease worked so hard to fix everything. Get the fuck out of here, girls, and let us handle this.”
Both girls jumped into Raven’s SUV and took off as ordered. Now that the old ladies were safely on their way, Preacher was able to relax a little. He thanked his brothers, Beecher and Gunner, for their help and told them he’d meet them at the compound. No doubt, they’d want in on the fun later.
Preacher leaned in to glare at Ricky. “I’ll put a bullet in the back of your head if you aren’t at that compound in ten minutes.” Panicking, the boy took off before the guys even had time to jump on their bikes.
The Harleys started up and his brothers followed closely behind him, showing no signs of any malevolent behavior. The night was young though, and there would be plenty of mayhem to come. Preacher wanted answers, and he knew exactly what to do to get them. No matter how determined people were to remain silent, once he had them in his interrogation room, his special brand of torture always changed their minds. Preacher was broken inside after all he endured as a child. There were hardcore bikers who had to avert their eyes, or even go so far as to leave the room, when witnessing his work. Hell, one brother had even puked while watching him question a guy. When the other brothers didn’t even rag him about losing his dinner, Preacher knew that they, too, thought his methods were a bit ruthless.
Preacher took it to a whole different level when it came to interrogating an enemy. He enjoyed finding new ways to question his victims. The club joked that he was their human lie detector. He was always studying body language and had even gone so far as to take a class on profiling. After Preacher had expressed an interest in getting some professional training, Hackman hacked into an education center that provided the online courses and tests for law enforcement.
He even took it a step further and designed his own torture tools. He set up the room he referred to as the cellar like a torture chamber. Sets of chains hung from ceiling beams so he could secure a prisoner’s arms over his head. He had fashioned furniture that was made for the express purpose of subduing a prisoner and even had a cell built, complete with a sink, toilet, and a stainless steel, unbreakable mirror. He’d gone online to fetish sites for the sole purpose of studying predicament bondage—a form of bondage in which the person was bound in an awkward, difficult, inconvenient, and intentionally uncomfortable position. To say the least, Preacher took his work very seriously. He liked what he did for a living, and the club damn sure found that his skills came in handy on more than one occasion. He’d even been called in by out of state chapters for prisoners who wouldn’t talk. To put it simply, the man was very good at what he did.
Perilous (Dauntless MC Book 2) Page 11