With that, Ice, Hammer, and myself run out the door. It’s time to take down this asshole once and for all.
My adrenaline pumps as we twist our throttles and push the metal machines beneath us. Normally, we have a well-thought-out and executed plan. Normally, we have our asses covered. Normally, we aren’t going after a fucked-up killer who took out one of our own.
David Koch, pronounced “Cook,” lives in a non-descript neighborhood. Nothing special and not a single thing out of place. His house fits the cookie-cutter mold of an everyday suburbanite. It’s the perfect way for a part-time hired hitman and full-time psychopath to blend in.
With the skill of a professional, Hammer picks the lock on the front door, and we enter the space of a killer. It’s not what I imagined. A sparse, clean living room, and a neat little kitchen off to the left. It’s not until we travel deeper into the house that we find his den. That’s where the place became creepy.
The windows have been painted black. There’s a table with various butcher tools lying on it and an apron—shit you would expect to see in a kitchen, not a den. Against the wall to our right are a couple of bookcases filled with over a hundred cookbooks.
Newspaper articles line the wall to our left; various reports on missing or murdered victims. I can’t help wondering if they are all victims of Cook or perhaps if he was just admiring someone else’s handiwork. But that’s not all that is on display.
The far wall of the den is covered in a cork board from ceiling to floor. Attached is what looks to be orders from restaurant order pads.
Approaching the papers, I see there are notes with names in the table number section, dates, and in the order part is a food description.
Regulators MC cut. Patch reads BJ. The words line the top of the paper.
Skewered meat.
Turning my head to the left, I vomit on the floor, unable to control myself.
Hammer rushes over and reads the paper.
“Well, we know damn sure he’s the fucker. Today we give him a one-way ticket to Hell,” Hammer says as emotions overwhelm him, too.
“Looks like Cook is on shift, according to the schedule on the fridge. Hammer, call one of the boys and tell him to bring the van to Billy Bob’s Barbeque. We’ve got a package that needs to be picked up. Then call Dwayne down at the Everglades. We’ll be stopping by to deliver a package to Gator Island,” Ice informs.
Hammer walks off toward the front door while calling one of our brothers on his cell phone. Rather than clean up my mess, we all take off to the restaurant to get David Koch and teach him how the Regulators handle things.
~~~
Tied, unconscious, and laid on his side in the back of the van, we all watch as Cook starts to wake up. First, it’s just a little stir of his leg. Eventually, the man is twitching his whole body, flopping around like a fish out of water, trying to untie himself. None of us are worried, though. He will never get those zip-ties undone.
Walking over to the back of the van, I grab the asshole by his feet and pull him out until his body clears the van and falls to the ground, hitting his head on the way down. I don’t feel an ounce of sympathy when he cries out in pain. How many people cried when he tortured them?
Ice, Hammer, and I all crowd around his body, looking down at him, letting him see the murder in our eyes.
“You took one of ours,” Ice growls in a deadly voice. “Now we’re going to take you.”
Hammer kicks the man in his side with his steel-toed boot. “Don’t think it’s going to be quick, either, fucker. It sure as shit wasn’t quick when you killed BJ, so we’re gonna make sure you stay good and alive for a long time before we feed the last of you to the gators.”
Ice spits on David. “Coal here learned some interesting things from his Sioux grandfather on the reservation. Like how to field dress and skin a deer for its pelt. We thought, since you like cooking so much, you might be able to appreciate the kind of skill that takes.”
I watch our prisoner as I close off my emotions and get ready for vengeance. It’s not enough to just kill him; I need to make him afraid. Let him feel what the others felt before he killed them.
“He’s not ready yet, Prez. He needs a good marinade first; don’t you think?” Looking over at Hammer, I ask, “Got any liquid for the marinade, man?”
Hammer laughs cruelly as he unzips his jeans and pulls his cock out. “Sure as fuck do. Right here.” He starts to piss on Cook while asking, “How’s this for a marinade, motherfucker?”
When he’s done, I grab the gas can that we keep for emergencies out of the back of the van then pour the contents all over the man on the ground. “This way, it more than burns when I cut you, asshole. It’s going to weep down into your fresh cuts, and you’re gonna feel like a thousand razors are gutting you bit by bit.”
Throwing the can back in the van, I then pull out the hunting knife my grandfather gave me. It’s the same knife I scalped Sandoval with three years ago. This time, I’m cutting up a different animal, one who deserves it just as much.
Bending down, I pull David’s pants down until they are at his knees, but I leave his boxers on. Primarily, I’m just removing what would be the biggest deterrent from getting a good cut in with my blade.
Looking up at his face, I see he’s not scared yet. He should be. He probably thinks I won’t go through with it. He’s dead wrong.
Placing my blade on his lower abdomen, underneath the waistband of his boxers, I dig deep enough to start cutting through his skin and the layer of muscle there. Cook starts screaming from behind his gag, but it’s not enough to make me stop. He can scream all he wants out here. No one but the gators will ever hear him.
While I move my knife slowly upward, Hammer steps on Cook’s outstretched arms to help hold him still. I ignore the man’s futile thrashing and continue my job, occasionally stopping to saw at the tough tendons as I make my way up to his chest, stopping just short of the bottom of his neck. By the time I’m done, a small width yet long in length gap has opened the man’s body.
Now he is crying, more than likely from the pain.
With every slice, the air hits his wounds, adding in the bacteria from the gasoline as he bleeds but not fast enough to render him unconscious. Meanwhile, I feel only the satisfaction of revenge. It serves this man right to suffer this much after what he’s done to so many others.
Looking the terrified man dead in his eyes, I let him know what’s going to happen next. “I’m not going to bother pulling out your guts because that would just kill you faster. No, I’ll save that for the gators. But before I’m done with you, you’ll wish you had died a quick death.”
Reaching down, I place the blade on the left side of the long gash and start sawing in a slow even hand, up and down, separating the skin from the meat of his body. It’s like delicately filleting a fish, only harder because human skin is so much thinner than the thick hide of an animal.
Cutting a piece off, I hold it in front of the raggedly sobbing man who is still screaming and gasping for breath. “Whatcha think, Cook? Did I do a good job cutting that piece off? What’s that?” I mock as if I can’t hear his screams. I look over at Ice, then Hammer. “I think Cook wants a taste, boys. Hammer, hold his face and be ready to hold his jaw open.”
Ice sits on Cook’s legs so he can’t kick me away as Hammer holds him down by grabbing his head to keep him still as I pull the gag out of his mouth.
He shakes his head. “You don’t get it. Any death you give me is better than the cartel planned. I set you up, so I fuckin’ win.”
His words anger me more, and I quickly shove his own piece of skin in, shutting him the hell up. Before he can spit it out, I put the gag back in place.
“Choke on your own meat, jackass.”
We need to figure out why this man chose to fuck with us rather than face what his own enemies had planned for him. Maybe Screech can sort it out. In the end, the why’s don’t matter. We lost Big Jim because this pussy didn’t want to fac
e the plans of his own people fucking him up. He needs to die and that is that.
“You shouldn’t play with the food, brother. You ready to feed him to the gators? Because I want to hurry up and get the fuck out of here before they think we’re on the menu, too.”
Holding up a finger to signal I need a minute, I look back at Hammer one more time. “Hold his arms down. I’m going to cut his fingers off so he can feel what Lisa felt.”
Ten chopped off fingers later, I start tossing pieces of David Koch into the swamp waters around Gator Island. I can already see movement in the water where the gators are coming in to eat. It’s safe to say that Cook will never be seen again.
~Paisley~
It has been three days since I last saw Coal, and the eerie feeling that someone is watching me is back. The gym, the grocery store, and even when Des, Morgan, and I went to get manicures, there was a feeling of being shadowed.
They get mani-pedis regularly. Only on occasion do I join them because the nail polish fumes are toxic. Wanting something normal, I decided to tag along this time, only to constantly look outside, trying to shake off the bad feeling. I don’t say anything, though. Whatever is going on is my problem, not Desirae, Morgan, or more so, Coal’s. I can’t risk them telling him.
I considered not going out today. The last thing I want to do is put my friends in any kind of danger. Part of me wonders, though, if what I keep sensing is the shadows of my energy seeking out Coal’s. It seems crazy, but since I literally bumped into him, my whole world seems to be turned upside down.
And I feel like it has been for him, too. I just don’t know how to fix it for me or him.
No matter how strong the connection and attraction is between us, Coal has made it clear he doesn’t want anything to do with me. I can only hope one day he will see he’s not the bad person he thinks he is.
The tension is building in my body. Since I have the day off, I decide to have a detoxifying bath when I get home.
“Paisley, you wanna go with us to get a bite to eat before we head home?” Morgan asks as we stand out front of the nail salon.
“No, I’m in the mood to take a long, relaxing bath,” I tell my friends.
Desirae smirks. “I’d like a long, hot bath with my man.”
I laugh. “You don’t ever get enough, do you?”
“Nope.” She smiles and waves as she takes off toward her car. “Come on, Morgan; let’s go eat so I can get home to my man. See ya in the morning for yoga, Paisley.”
Morgan gives me a quick hug before heading toward the car. I get in mine and sigh before making my way home.
At home, I run the bath water and add baking soda to clear out the chemicals in the filtered city water so my body doesn’t end up absorbing the metals. After five minutes, I then add in Epsom salt, coconut oil, and lavender essential oil.
Climbing into the warm bath, I submerge as much of my body as I can.
Twenty minutes later, my skin feels lighter, my body feels better, but my mind is still heavy with the thoughts of Coal.
Deciding, I need to meditate, I make my way to the outdoor patio.
An hour later, I still can’t shake the heaviness. In a panic and slight desperation to fix things, I leave my apartment and head back to the library.
Before I can talk myself out of it, I quickly find Amber Bridges-Stokes and send her a message about the man she’s looking for. That’s when the weight I have been carrying since Trevor shared his past with me finally seems lighter.
He may hate me when he finds out what I have done, but if either of these two can find the closure they both seem to be seeking, it will be worth it for me.
Chapter Fourteen
~Coal~
Fuck, but I’m tired. Eight hours ago, in the middle of the night, I got a phone call from the hospital saying my mom had been rushed to the emergency room, and I was the only contact on file. I got to my bike faster than I ever have before and raced home, making the trip in record time and exceeding every speed limit the entire way. By the time I got here, the doctors at least had good news for me. Mom was alive.
They are still running some tests, but it looks like she had a stroke.
I sit here for hours in the ICU hospital room, just talking to my mother as she sleeps. I’m not sure if she can hear me, but I hope she does. Then the nurses send me home, since the visiting hours are shorter in Intensive Care.
Home.
I know I could go to my parents’ house, but for a moment, I consider a hotel. Then something pulls at me to go home and, for some reason, I do. Honestly, I’m too fucking wiped and know I need some rest.
As I lay in the guest bedroom that used to be my old room, I’m haunted by too many things that are keeping me from sleep. That’s why, when morning moves in, with sunshine peeking through the blinds, I still haven’t shut my eyes. I’m tired and worn the hell out.
It’s been one thing after another. Precious needing an escape, Cook bullshit, losing Big Jim, not looking forward to his funeral tomorrow, and now my mom. Not to mention, Pixie and all the knots she’s got me fucking tied up in.
Since I can’t sleep, I might as well get up and make myself some coffee to get me through the day.
I make it halfway down the stairs to the main floor when the doorbell rings. Who the hell could that be?
Making my way to the door and opening it, I’m not prepared for who is on the other side.
Amber.
Seeing her again after so many years is like taking a punch to the gut. Or even a kick to the nuts. It doesn’t hurt so much as it enrages me to see the woman who cost me everything. At the same time, I wonder how much I cost her, too.
She looks good, so maybe that means I didn’t fuck up her life too much.
Not giving her a chance to speak, I say, “What are you doing here, Amber?”
“I’m sorry to just show up like this, Trevor, but I really need to speak to you.”
“Got nothing to say to you. Listened to everything you had to say seventeen years ago. Think that was enough, don’t you?”
Amber shakes her head. “No, that’s why we need to talk. The past is wrong, and I’m here to make it right.”
Not understanding where she is going with this, I snap, “What the fuck are you talking about?”
“Can I come in please so we can talk?”
Blocking the entrance with my body, I cross my arms over my chest. “I don’t think that’s a good idea. You can say whatever it is you want to say out here, and then go on your way.” There is no way I’m going to have her inside this house alone with me.
She sighs, looks down at her feet, then nods in understanding. Looking back up at me, she finally says, “I came here to tell you the truth. You didn’t rape me all those years ago, Trevor.”
Feeling surreal, as if this whole conversation might be a dream, I whisper the only words that come to mind, “What the fuck did you just say to me?”
Amber straightens her spine, as if trying to give herself courage. “I said, you didn’t rape me that night. I’m here to tell you that I’m sorry for not being honest with my parents.”
“You’re sorry?” I murmur back in shock.
I watch through a haze as she nods again. “Yes, I’m sorry. You see, I have a little girl—”
At that, my head snaps up. “Is she mine? Tell me right fuckin’ now, Amber; did you have my kid and not tell me?”
She shakes her head violently. “No, no!” Holding up her hand, she points at a wedding ring. “I’m married now, Trevor, and my husband and I have a little girl together. She’s eight years old.”
Something about her statement releases a tension in me that I didn’t realize I had until it was gone. My shoulders sag a bit as Amber keeps talking at a fast pace.
“What I was trying to say is that, as I’ve been raising my little girl, it’s made me think about when she’s a teenager. And I don’t ever want her to go through what I’ve been through.”
Her words make my
back rigid. “But you just said I didn’t rape you, so what the fuck are you talking about, Amber?”
Holding her hands up in surrender, I can see they are shaking. “This is all coming out wrong. Just let me finish please.” I don’t say anything, so she reiterates, “Please.”
This time, it’s me who gives her a nod, and then she continues.
“What I meant was, I don’t want my little girl to ever be afraid of talking to me. I want her to have the comfort to tell me the truth, no matter what. My parents had me scared out of my mind, that when I found out I was pregnant with our baby, I lied to them about what happened. That was wrong of me, and I know I can never truly make it up to you, but I’m doing what I can—I’m telling you the truth. And most importantly, I’m here to say I’m sorry, Trevor. So sorry for the hell I must have put you through. I never had any right to lie like that.”
I stand there silently, not knowing what to say to her. Sure, there are a few things running though my head, like “what the fuck?” or “fuck you,” but the biggest emotion, besides the rage, is relief.
I spent almost half my life thinking I am a rapist, only to find out that I’m not. All this time, I thought I was a bad seed, a black soul, and I’m not. Damn, but there are no words to express how fucking relieved I am in this moment.
Looking back at Amber, seeing how scared she is, yet knowing she came here, faced her fears and told me the truth, even if it is seventeen years too late, I decide she should get a pass.
I could cuss her out, scare the living shit out of her, and tell her all the hell she has put me through. Or, I can take a page out of Pixie’s book and try to balance the scales between us.
With a gruff voice with too much emotions, I simply tell her, “Thank you for telling me the truth. Now leave and never darken my doorstep again.”
I’m not sure what she expected me to say, but apparently, that hadn’t been it.
Her shoulders sag in disappointment as she turns on her heels and slowly walks away. Then I watch her get in her car and disappear down the street.
Coal (Regulators MC Book 3) Page 12