Stung by Stealth: A Satan's Savages MC Novel #3

by K E Osborn

  “You think you admitting that you won’t tell us anything is going to make us kill you quickly?”

  Marco shrugs. “It’s no skin off my nose, do what you want. I’m dead anyway, right?”

  Chops chuckles and gleams at Mad Dog like an excited child. “Can I, Prez? Can I, please?”

  Raising an eyebrow, I wonder what Chops is on about and Mad Dog laughs. “You take everything so literally don’t you VP?” Mad Dog replies.

  Chops grins, nods and pulls over the trolley covered with a blue cloth. He pulls back the material revealing the stainless steel instruments, and this time it doesn’t startle me.

  It excites me, and that startles me.

  Taking a deep breath at the fact that I like this shit way more than I should, I watch as Chops pulls up an instrument that looks like one of those tools the nail ladies use at the salons to shave off the dead skin from your feet. I only know that because I went with Hannah once to watch the twins while she had a pedi-something-or-other. It suddenly clicks as to what Mad Dog was saying about Chops taking everything literally. Marco said, ’It’s no skin off my nose.’

  Shit!

  As the heavy metal music continues to grate my ears, Chops moves in as Mad Dog strolls up behind Marco’s chair grabbing the head restraint. Mad Dog catches Marco’s head from behind and he thrashes about in the chair. Standing back, my heart leaps into my throat as I watch Mad Dog trying to grab Marco’s head and place it in the strap. He’s not holding still enough, so I hoof it over and bring my fist up and slam it right into Marco’s ribs. He lets out a massive gust of air stopping all movements as Mad Dog quickly places the restraint over his forehead.

  Mad Dog looks to me and smirks. “Thanks, brother.”

  I nod. Marco’s chest is heaving as he glances at me sideways. “You’re nothing but a minion to them, you know that right?” Marco jibes.

  Raising my eyebrow, I tilt my head and smirk. “I might be a minion, but who’s the one strapped to a chair about to get a layer of skin scraped off his nose?”

  Marco’s eyes widen and he tries to shake his head, but it won’t budge in the restraint. “What do you mean a layer of skin scraped off my nose, esé?”

  “Oh, he means this,” Chops chirps stepping up to him with the tool and begins to slide it down his nose. Blood starts to pool from the site as a layer of skin slides off and Marco screams out as the blood runs down his face dripping into his mouth and down his chin. Cringing slightly at the thought of the pain, Marco’s moans become louder the further Chops goes down his nose making the flap of skin longer and longer. I huff knowing it’s only going to get worse from here. Chops glides the tool off the tip of his nose and the skin flap falls from the tool into Marco’s lap right onto his flaccid cock, and I swallow slightly as the open flesh of his nose oozes and Marco moans out in pain.

  “So Marco, feel like sharing anything with us yet?” Mad Dog asks.

  Marco spits out some blood that’s pooled at his lips and he coughs slightly. “You won’t get anything from me, go your hardest.”

  Chops and Mad Dog nod, as I shake my head at him. “Are you a religious man, Marco?” Chops asks?

  Marco exhales and shrugs. “What’s it to you?”

  “Well, are you a God fearing man? You had a Christ statue at your hangout, so it would be pretty hypocritical if you didn’t believe in him?”

  Marco scoffs. “What’s that got to do with anything, hombre. You got a fucking point to your loco talk?”

  Chops looks to Mad Dog and he smiles. I’m obviously missing something here. “Well, if you believe that Christ died for your sins, and that he went through crucifixion for you and your homeboys, then maybe you should feel at home with Christ. You know, be at one with him?”

  Opening my eyes wide, I look at Mad Dog, who can’t contain his smile.

  Shit is about to get crazy.

  “What the fuck you on esé? You trippin’ on acid or something?” Marco asks.

  Chops shakes his head. “No just feeling spiritual… or psycho, not sure which one, I get them confused… a lot.”

  I smirk as he walks over to the metal cabinet, swinging the door open, the metal squealing with the obvious need of some oil on the hinges. Chops pulls out four wooden stakes and a hammer. Biting down on my lip, I take a deep breath as I look at Marco, recognition registering on his face.

  “Oh, what the fuck? Estás loco hijos de puta madre!”

  “I’ll take that as a compliment whatever the fuck it means,” Chops says sauntering back over with his stakes and hammer as the song flicks over on repeat.

  “I’m not fucking Jesus you fucking bastardo!”

  “Wait, you aren’t? Are you sure?” Chops teases. “‘Cause I swear I saw you turning water to wine, or wait was that just the blood dripping from your nose into your cup? I can never be sure. Anyhoo, Stealth wanna give this a go?” Chops asks and my back straightens as he looks at me with a glimmer in his eyes.

  Swallowing hard as my chest rises and falls quickly, I wonder what the fuck I’m meant to do. If I say no they might look at me as a coward and start excluding me from things, but if I do this then there’s no turning back.

  Fuck!

  My mouth starts moving before my mind has time to catch up. “Fuck yeah, I want in.” My eyes open slightly wider at the shock admission of my own words.

  Mad Dog chuckles slapping my shoulder as Chops holds out a stake and the hammer. Swallowing hard as Marco struggles in his restraints, I step up in front of Marco and take a stake from Chops who’s chuckling at Marco’s unease. “Go for the hands first, they’re easier.” The way he says it makes it sound like he’s done this hundreds of times before. I shouldn’t be surprised by that but I am.

  “Please, just stab it straight through my heart. Just end me esé,” Marco begs.

  Looking into his pleading eyes something clicks in me, the biker is coming out and the cop is hiding behind the concrete wall. Smirking, I shake my head and huff. “If I kill you, then you have no chance of talking, do you Marco. The more we wear you down, the more you’re likely to talk. So no, I won’t stab you through the heart, but I will stab you through the wrist.” I bring my hand up with the stake and place it over his closed fist. He tries to move it around in the restraint, but it’s held at the wrist. So I place the tip of the stake right at the edge of his wrist and hand. He’s panting and breathing harshly out of his mouth so much so that spittle is flying out of his mouth, but I ignore it and bring the hammer up and slam it down on top of the stake. The reverb through the stake, as the wood slices through his flesh, vibrates up through my arm and sends a jolt of electricity straight into my chest, as Marco screams out loud. Blood squirts from his hand as the stake sits upright out of his wrist, and Mad Dog and Chops both chuckle. Smiling I bring the hammer back down another time driving the stake further into his wrist.

  His pain filled moans ring through the chop shop as he screams out in a beautiful agony. I can’t believe I’m doing this, I can’t believe I’m loving this. But after what he did to those women—thinking of S-19 and her two daughters, the one’s he probably fathered—it only makes it easier as I grab another stake from a maniacally grinning Chops and drive it harshly into Marco’s other wrist. Blood spurts out of his flesh and all over my shirt, but I don’t care as he cries out in pain. The pull of his tendons and muscle as I slam the hammer down on the stake makes my chest swell with pride. If I can hurt this fucker even half as much as he hurt those women upstairs, then I feel okay with that.

  “You’re a natural at this Stealth,” Mad Dog announces as I grab another stake and kneel down to Marco’s feet, where the ankles are bound to the chair legs.

  “Now go through the middle of the foot Stealth that will hurt like fuck,” Chops instructs me.

  “No, no, please. No more, please,” Marco begs but I don’t care how much he begs, this guy didn’t stop when those women begged him to stop raping them.

  “This is for S-19,” I say looking up at him
and he clenches his jaw and squeezes his eyes tightly shut. I look down placing the stake in the middle of his foot, bringing the hammer up and smile, as I slam it down. This is a lot harder to get through than his hand as the bone is there, but through his loud screams and the pulling and resistance, I grin knowing I’ll have to hammer a couple more times to get it through. So I hammer down again, and more blood squirts out as a crack resounds through the room, obviously his bone breaking. Mad Dog and Chops hold their stomachs as they laugh at Marco, who’s almost passing out from the pain. I hammer once more to finish the job, and I feel the crack even more as blood continues to flow from his foot and pool on the ground around me.

  Feeling a sense of relief, Chops places his hand on my shoulder and I turn my head looking back at him. “Okay, I think you’re done.”

  Furrowing my brow, I look down to his other foot. “What about—”

  “I have plans for that,” Chops reveals and grabs my cut pulling me up from the ground. He slaps my back as Marco’s screams hush, and he wavers in and out of consciousness. “Good job, Stealth. Now go… relax, and watch for the rest of it.”

  Swallowing hard as Mad Dog nods at me like I’ve done him proud, I stagger over to the side of the chair as Chops goes back over to his metal cabinet and grabs a small hessian sack. I wonder what’s in it as Mad Dog steps up in front of Marco.

  “Marco, I’m giving you an option to talk here before shit gets serious. Tell us about José? Tell us who his employer is? Who is the head of the Cartel, and where can we find them?”

  Marco opens and closes his eyes a few times licking the blood from his lips. “I don’t even know why you’re asking me, hombre. I’m not going to budge. Not even an inch.”

  Mad Dog huffs and shakes his head as Chops smiles kneeling down at the foot of Marco with the hessian sack. He opens it and pours some pebbly metallic powder onto Marco’s ankle and across his foot.

  “Is that what I think it is?” Marco asks and it suddenly dawns on me too.

  “Sure is. Let’s get this party off with a bang, hey?” Chops states and Marco pulls against his restraints, the stakes bobbling up and down in the air as he moves from side to side, the gun powder residue on his foot falling slightly, but still enough remains on his skin. I know that placed in the right spot, setting off the gunpowder will blow his foot off, but I guess that’s Chops’ aim.

  “Stealth, Prez, you might wanna stand back. Shit’s gonna get messy,” Chops declares with a chuckle in his voice.

  Mad Dog grabs my shoulder and pulls me back toward the stairs. We can still see, but we’re far enough away from the blast zone.

  “Last chance to talk, Marco,” Chops warns.

  “I don’t know what to tell you. Anything you do would only be child’s play compared to what the Cartel would do to me if I rat.”

  Chops shrugs grabbing a box of matches from the trolley and smirking. “Okay, well then, light ‘em up,” he says striking the match and taking three long strides back.

  Marco’s chest rises and falls dramatically as he shakes his foot trying to get rid of as much gunpowder as possible before the match hits him. Chops chuckles and holds the flickering match up to his face. “You just had to go and get me all fired up!” Chops jeers cockily and hurtles the match onto Marco’s foot. It fizzles and cracks and Marco screams out in anticipation of what’s coming next, then an almighty bang roars through the Chop Shop, the shockwave smacking me in the chest as pieces of skin, sinew and blood, fly through the air. Ducking down from the debris, Mad Dog laughs as Chops wipes tiny chunks from his face.

  “Now that’s a show! You still with us, Marco?” Chops asks walking back over to him his leg dangling off half way down his calf. His eyes closed and his mouth agape taking in slow staggered breaths.

  “Marco, wake up you loco son of a bitch,” Mad Dog berates sauntering over to him and slapping him hard across his face. He doesn’t move in the restraints just jolts slightly as he opens his eyes.

  “Just kill me, por favor, I beg you. End me, I’m not going to tell you anything, so you may as well get it over with.”

  Chops looks at Mad Dog as I crinkle my nose up at the stench of burnt gunpowder, and the metallic twang of burnt blood that starts to churn my stomach. “Well, I can see you’re not going to talk, but I can’t let this torture be over, without rubbing a little salt in the wounds as they say.”

  Chops leans down under the trolley and pulls up a plastic bag that’s full of white power. Wondering what it is, I raise my eyebrows at Mad Dog who’s chuckling to himself. He looks at me as Chops pours some of the powder onto the trolley. “Oh, it’s actual salt. He’s very literal in the Chop Shop, Stealth. You should know that by now.”

  Pursing my lips, I let out a light laugh and nod as Chops grabs a spoon and ladles some of the salt onto the scoop. He then moves his finger to Marco’s nose where the blood is starting to dry and he rubs against the open flesh harshly. Marco’s body stiffens as he cries out in agony, while Chops re-opens the wound and then pours the salt onto the oozing flesh. Marco screams out again and struggles in his restraints.

  “Fucking hell, you fucking motherfuckers. I just want to die, kill me, fucking kill me!”

  “I told you we’re rubbing salt in the wound. You’re not being very helpful to us Marco, so why would we be helpful to you?” Chops asks pouring salt onto the stake wounds on his wrists. He struggles while Chops rubs the salt into the flesh. I know it would be stinging like a bitch, and for the first time I’m so fucking glad that I’m a biker and watching torture, because this man, this shell of a human, doesn’t deserve to live. He doesn’t deserve to breathe the air those women upstairs breathe. But he does deserve all this pain, tenfold. In my opinion, the torture we’re giving him here tonight is nothing compared to what he should get. He’s getting off easy, but in the end, he’ll be dead and those women will be safe. That’s all that matters.

  With more salt being rubbed into every open wound, including his amputated foot, Mad Dog walks over grabbing a large hunting knife from the bench and glides it up Marco’s stomach to his chin. Mad Dog digs the tip of the blade into his sternum. Marco coughs and squirms as blood trickles down his chest. He then slides the knife down his chest breaking open the skin as he goes leaving a giant slice right down the centre of his torso. Then when he gets to his belly button, he slides over to the right and then continues slicing down his thigh. Blood is oozing from Marco as Mad Dog stabs the knife down into Marco’s thigh. He screams out again, and his eyes roll back into his head. Mad Dog pulls the knife out and slaps his cheek a few times with a chuckle.

  “C’mon Marco, we’re nearly done. Eye’s open.”

  Marco’s eyes flutter open as Chops undoes the head restraint. His head flops forward and Chops grabs his hair holding his head up so Mad Dog can look at him. “Marco, last chance. This is the final call, tell us about José and the Cartel.”

  Marco swallows hard and shakes his head. “Sorry esé, no can do.”

  Mad Dog nods with a huff. “Okay. There’s no need to torture you anymore.” Mad Dog stands up turning like he’s going to walk away, but then quickly turns back and stabs Marco in the abdomen with the knife. He moans out in pain as blood seeps out of his wound.

  “It’s hard to stop the torture once you start, you know? Sorry, just a reflex, I’ll stop now,” Mad Dog teases with a smirk as Marco glares at him coughing, blood now pooling from his mouth.

  “The Cartel won’t stop until you’ve gotten out of drugs and guns, they will take out every buyer you manage to take on. You cannot win this war, Mad Dog. Get out while your men are still alive, while your family is still alive.”

  Mad Dog stiffens and stands tall. “These men here are my family.”

  Marco coughs and his body sags. “No, your family, Mad Dog. Be careful or they will be on the hit list.” He coughs again and his eyes roll into the back of his head.

  Mad Dog squats down to be eye level with him and grabs his shoulders shaking him. “Ma
rco, what do you mean? Wake up and talk to me. Tell me what you mean, you fucking crazy son of a fucking cunt!”

  Marco lets out a long breath and his entire body sags. He’s dead, and Mad Dog starts to breathe harshly out of his nose. He brings his fist up and slams it into Marco’s jaw. “Wake up you motherfucker. Tell me what you mean?”

  Chops shakes his head as Mad Dog lays another punch into Marco’s dead body, and I step up behind Mad Dog grabbing his arms from behind and pulling him away from Marco. “Let me go, we need to get the intel from him, Stealth!”

  “He’s gone, Mad Dog, he can’t tell you anything,” I confirm. He turns to face me, his eyes bulging out of his sockets, his nostrils flaring, his face bright red and a vein pulsing so fast in his neck I’m worried it might burst.

  “Don’t tell me what to do, son.” He pushes me harshly, my body instinctively taking a step back as his heavy feet pound the concrete floor and storm up the stairs away from the mangled mess that is, no was, Marco.

  I turn to Chops and he exhales. “This is not good.”

  Shaking my head, I chew on my bottom lip. “Nope, he’s going to be even more on edge now.”

  ‏Chops nods and rubs his chin. “I’ll keep an eye on him, I’ll just clean this up and go talk to him. Go, have a good night with the rest of the guys and don’t discuss what was said.”

  Nodding, I take a look at Marco covered in blood and salt and raise an eyebrow. “Thanks for round two, Chops. I think I could really get used to this shit.”

  He laughs as I turn and march toward the stairs. I need a drink and maybe some time with Skye to bring me back down to earth.