It wouldn’t do any harm stringing Owen along. If he knows nothing is stored there, he’ll be admitting to being deeper embroiled in this mess than he’s hitherto indicated.
Owen, if possible, pales. “There were girls, drunk, strung up and off their asses.” When I give him a gimme more gesture, he admits, “GBH was used, I’m pretty certain of that.”
“And you fucked them, even though they were probably unwilling?”
“Unwilling, unresponsive.” Owen actually shudders. “Once, he got me to fuck a dead girl.”
Jesus H Christ. “Dead? He kill her?”
“No, man. No. I’d never condone murder. She was homeless, died on the streets of an overdose, and Devon happened to find her.”
That he could get it up for an unresponsive woman is one thing. But a woman not even breathing? Cold, presumably to the touch?
“Fuck, man.” Niran, who must have arrived at some point during the proceedings, can’t restrain himself. “How the fuck could you do that?”
“It was like a blow-up doll, you know, it didn’t mean anything. I got in, got off, job done. I got paid, man. Good fuckin’ money, especially for something unusual like that.”
“And what else?” I suddenly thunder. “What fuckin’ else, Owen? What age were the girls?”
“Alicia’s age or older. She was one of my youngest.”
“You sure of that?” Salem’s voice sounds beside me. He’s tossing his knife from hand to hand.
“You watch your movies when they’re finished?”
Owen closes his eyes then opens them again. “Sometimes.”
“Online? Or do you work with Devon to edit them?”
“Devon never lets anyone help with that. But he does great work, splicing and editing. What he produces is top notch.”
“So you watch online,” Token speaks from beside me. Then he snaps, “Website details, your login and password.”
Owen doesn’t say a word. Not until Salem grabs a foot and expertly slices off his little toe, then, for a moment, all he can do is scream. When he gets his breath back, he says “I only know Devon’s personal site. Not where they end up after he finishes them.” It’s something to start with at least, I think as he churns out the details Token was after.
“I’m in,” Token says after a while. “Hold on while I send these details to Utah. They can investigate the back end.”
Bones is looking over Token’s shoulder, avidly scanning the screen. “Christ, it looks like Owen here was doing his own investigation of the back end in this one.”
“Whatcha got?” Lost walks closer.
“From a quick scan, Prez, shit that needs to be kept underground. But whether the other stuff is on here or not, fuck knows. I can’t tell immediately.”
“There another level you need a password for?”
Owen looks confused by the question, so I expand, “Underage girls, little kids.”
He shakes his head. “There’s nothing like that. Devon wouldn’t…”
Devon’s a man who either kills or conveniently finds a dead girl and makes her a posthumous star in a movie. I’d say there wasn’t much Devon wouldn’t do.
“Come on, fucker,” Salem taunts him. “I’ll cut off another toe then keep going until you tell. Pretty fucking hard walking without any toes I’m told.”
“If there is something, I wouldn’t know,” Owen screams.
Prez cocks his eyebrow at me, as I shake my head and run my hand over my face. Damn it, but it seems the fucker’s telling the truth. One thing I’ve learned is that he’s scared of pain. He also has no doubt Salem will carry out his threat.
I decide to change tack. “Devon wasn’t at his house. Have you any idea where he might go? Any particular haunts or locations he uses? Studios he might rent?”
Owen has tears rolling down his face. “I’d tell you if I knew. You’re going to hurt me whether or not I keep my mouth closed. Devon chooses different locations. As far as I know, he doesn’t go to the same place twice unless it’s for a normal shoot, like the ones for book covers. Sometimes he rents out an Airbnb or a private house. He’s filmed me in one of the big beach houses before. Or hotels, like where I went with…” He’s wise and doesn’t mention her name.
Lost hasn’t done any of the questioning, leaving it to Salem and me. Now he steps forward with an unreadable expression on his face. He tilts his head to the side as he examines Owen for a moment.
“The shoots for book covers…Why does Devon bother with that?”
Owen’s chin drops down to his chest. “He has a legitimate business.”
In other words, it’s his own cover, and the shit in the internal pages wouldn’t make for happy reading, or not for someone not twisted.
Lost takes over again. His normally affable face now a mask of anger. “What do you feel when you’re fuckin’ an unresponsive woman? What did you feel when you took Alicia knowing full well she hadn’t given consent to be filmed? How does it make you feel, Owen?”
Owen’s eyes crack open a fraction more as he stares at the prez. “It’s a job, man. Where else could I earn money like that?”
“What do you think it’s like, Owen? To wake knowing you’ve been violated but no idea by whom?”
“I don’t know,” Owen wails. “They can’t remember so what’s the harm in it?”
Lost’s attention is on me now, his voice when he speaks is low. “Is there anything else you want to know? Is there a reason for keeping this piece of shit around any longer?”
He can’t help with more information. I think we’ve already wrung out of him everything he has to give. He can’t help us find Devon, and about the more deviant side of the business, he doesn’t seem to know. Not sure I completely trust him. Would he have owned up if he’d abused little kids? On balance, I’m sick of the man and want him out of Alicia’s life, permanently. I don’t want to risk freeing him and have her come across him walking around without a care in the world. One thing he hasn’t expressed has been guilt.
After these thoughts go through my head, I give Lost his answer, “No.”
Prez raises and dips his chin, signals to Salem to stay back, then draws nearer to the strung-up man.
“I gave you a chance to show remorse, but it’s clear you have none. Your disrespect for women isn’t going to be fixed. You’ll just go on and on before you are stopped. So I’m going to stop you now. But I’m feeling generous, so you can choose which way to go. I can send you to Satan minus your dick and you’ll take your chances as to how long it will take before you bleed out, or, I’ll end you with a bullet to your head.”
“You can’t. You can’t do that.” Owen screams and a burst of urine comes out of his recently threatened cock. “I won’t touch another woman. I beg you. Let me go!” The level of his screams rise and start a headache behind my temples.
Lost may not look like your typical MC prez—more like a jovial grandfather at times—but he should never be underestimated. His old lady’s been good for him, given him the confidence to believe in himself, and right now, I read there’s no doubt in his head as to how this should end. And that’s with Owen dead, one way or another. I know he’s serious, Owen does not.
“Just let me go, man. I won’t say anything about the Satan’s Devils. I’ll say I was jumped and beaten. Just let me go. I can’t tell you anymore.”
“I’m quite aware you can’t tell me anymore, Owen, which is why I’m giving you the choice. Little head or big one?”
Lost’s delivery is so dry, it makes me smile and a couple of brothers laugh.
Owen’s eyes flick around the room as though seeking someone who’ll have sympathy for him, but of course, nobody has.
Salem sighs heavily and starts pulling on a pair of latex gloves. “Guess I’ll make the decision for him.” He takes out his knife and steps forward, reaching for Owen’s dick. Right now it’s shrunk so much there’s little to get hold of. It certainly doesn’t look worthy of a porn star’s appendage.
&n
bsp; Owen can tell he’s serious as he screams out one word, “Head.”
In what looks like a choreographed movement, Salem steps back and Lost waves me forward. I slide my gun out of my cut and press the barrel against Owen’s forehead. For a brief second, I see him hope I’m still just using threats and that my weapon isn’t loaded, then he gets a good look at the expression in my eyes.
“Oh fuck no, fuck no, no no no.”
I pull the trigger with the same amount of remorse Owen had shown for his victims. Zero.
As the echo of the gunshot fades, Lost points to Curtis. “Get started on clean-up, I’ll get someone to—”
“I’ll help,” Keeper offers.
“Me too,” Niran chimes in almost simultaneously.
The pair look at each other and shrug. Well, prospecting’s not so far in their rearview that they’ve forgotten about this shit.
Brothers start making their way to the door, more than one pausing to spit on the corpse. Before any can actually exit, Lost’s phone rings. Eyeing the caller ID, he holds up his hand causing all forward movement to cease.
“Snatcher?... Uh-huh… Yeah… What? No. We don’t need fuckin’ help… We’re perfectly… Oh. Yeah. That makes sense… You want what?... Yeah… Shit. Yeah, I understand. I’ll clear it this end, brother… See them tomorrow.”
All eyes are on him. Lost sighs and shakes his head. “Snatcher’s got news he doesn’t want to discuss over the phone, not even on a secure line, and fuck knows, between us and him, we can sew that up tight.” Prez’s jaw looks tense. “Bolt and Swift are coming tomorrow. Need all of you in church first thing. Oh, and we’re to keep an eye out for Devon, but not pull him in. If he returns to his house, he’s to be watched, if he leaves, followed.”
“What the fuck?” My hands are itching to get on that fuckin’ bastard, especially now I know the shit he’s into. Such instruction goes against the grain.
Prez ignores my interruption. “Niran, Curtis. You want to go on a stakeout tonight?”
“Yeah, ‘cause we’ll be hidden by the dark. We’ll blend in.” Niran shows there’s no animosity behind his comment by his wide grin.
“As long as you don’t smile, Brother.” Blaze can’t help getting his dig in.
Lost slices his hand through the air, and the ribaldry stops. “No. Not because of the fuckin’ colour of your skin, but because we don’t want Devon to know Satan’s Devils are after him, and he probably doesn’t expect us to have Black members.” His eyes fall on Niran, then he looks at the prospect. “And, because, you’ve both got the skills needed. You’ve done surveillance before when you served.”
Curtis had been a member of the military police. He’ll know what to do, and Niran? Well, he was a Marine.
“I’ll get Pennywise and Connor out of the house. They can make sure it looks untouched. Token…”
“I’ll sort the alarm out, get it reset.” Token doesn’t look happy as he answers the prez, but he’ll do what he has to.
There’s a moment when we all continue to watch Lost, but as he seems to have said all he needs to, most start to wander out. Dart steps up, frowning, and I, hanging around, overhear.
“Swift? How’s that going to go down, Prez?”
Lost shrugs. “She’s a member, she’ll get due respect.”
But as he says it, I wonder if it’s going to be that easy. Sounds like tomorrow we’ll have a woman sitting around the table in church, and I, for one, am not sure how I’ll take it.
“Grumbler?” Lost notices I’m still there.
“You need me, Prez?”
His eyes soften. “Nah. Not until the morning. Sounds like there’s nothing more we can do until then.”
It’s probably a good move not to send me to watch out for Devon. I’d find it hard to follow instructions just to follow him and keep my hands to myself.
Chapter Twenty-Eight
Grumbler
I killed men when I served, but they were the enemy, nameless targets I pointed my gun at following orders. Did they deserve it? Well, it was either them or us- so clearly, they did.
When I first joined the MC, it was far more violent than it is nowadays, and we had to fight for our turf, again, a case of survival depending on who shot first.
For the past three years I’ve been sergeant-at-arms, willing to kill for the safety of the club or, as in this case, justice. Poke, for years, had acted as executioner for Snake. I’d watched on as he killed in cold blood, ending lives almost on a whim. I’d accepted that if there was a need, I could be like him, though I wouldn’t approach the task with anything like pleasure.
I’d felt nothing when Shark had died a few months back, tortured first of course. He’d been one of the members who’d followed Snake and who had turned up working for Alder of all things. It was the whole club dispatching Shark to meet Satan, everyone wanting to get their punches in. Lost had fired the bullet, but in my view, Shark was probably dead by then.
Today was the first time I personally took the life of a man in our brig. Not coldly, fuck, I was irate with rage. I out of everyone had the most reason to want him dead, but it still gets to a man, ending a life of someone who can’t fight back. I’ve no doubt I was right to do it, nor that my reasons were just. But there’s still an unease inside me. Maybe the smell of cordite sent me right back to dark days when I was serving my country.
There’s one thing I know. I’d do the same thing again and again.
Does the fact that my hands are now shaking make me weak? Fuck no. Dart had confided when he was drunk one night that the scary-ass motherfucker of an enforcer, Blade, from Tucson, always threw up after he’d done some torturing. It’s a natural reaction and won’t last long. I should be celebrating that the earth’s rid of scum like Owen, not trying to justify why it had been at my hand.
In some ways, I feel cheated. I’d expected his death would wipe the slate clean for Alicia, but it’s an empty resolution where she’s concerned. First, she must never know about it, more importantly, second, even if she did, it wouldn’t negate the fact that it happened and that he’d deceived her and robbed her of her innocence. Then there’s the fact that the film of her is still out there, and someone could be watching it right now. A willing young girl? That could be on any porn channel, not even one hidden on the dark web. That’s what I’ve got to make right for her. What I can’t stomach most is that I can’t throttle the truth out of Devon tonight. That’s what’s making me vibrate with anger.
I dispatched Owen to meet Satan, but he was only a substitute for the man I want worse. That fucking video Token had found—it was beyond sickening. Trouble is, try as I might, I can’t get it out of my mind.
Kids should be kept safe, cherished, not abused, and certainly not to satisfy the depraved appetites of twisted men. I shake my head trying to clear it, but the little I’d seen replays in my head on a loop. How did Token watch the whole thing? I might not know how he stomached it, but I’m grateful he did. Even hearing about how it ended had broken me.
Now I’m told I have to wait for retribution until tomorrow. It’s too fucking long to wait.
Exiting the brig, I take a moment to breathe in the fresh air and decide how to make the time pass. As the remainder of the brothers walk around me, some slap my back as if I deserve praise for taking that final shot. Truth is, any of them would have done it.
Knowing Owen wasn’t around to corrupt anymore young girls hasn’t brought the anticipated relief. It’s Devon I’ve got my sights set on now, and I’ll be fucked if Bolt and that member without a dick from Utah are going to swoop in and take him out of my hands. They’ve got a habit of doing that.
“You okay, Brother?” Prez has stopped by my side.
I glance toward him. “I’ll be fuckin’ fine just so long as Utah doesn’t pull a Stormy on us again. That fucker’s mine.”
Prez purses his lips, then nods. “Already thought of that, sergeant-at-arms. I’ll be calling Drummer later and giving him a heads-up. Workin
g with us is one thing, taking the kill shot for us, something else. It’s a question of trust, Brother. Utah lost ours when Stormy took out Alder, lost Demon’s too when he finished Major for them. It caused them to lose the trust of Red and of Drummer as we’re all one fuckin’ club. If Snatcher hasn’t learned that lesson, then he won’t have a fuckin’ chapter to lead.”
What Lost has said makes sense. That he’s worried that has any possibility of being the outcome fuels my rage. “I suppose Stormy hasn’t shown his face yet?”
“Not as far as we’ve been told.”
I raise my eyebrows at Lost. “You really think he’s back and Snatcher’s protecting him?”
Lost shakes his head vigorously and snorts. “I’m seeing conspiracies all over the place now, Brother. Utah hit us hard.”
He’s right. They had. As he pats my shoulder and walks off to the clubhouse, I gaze after him. San Diego is no stranger to underhand plots—we’d had Snake and his betrayal to deal with. While Utah hadn’t betrayed the club as such, they’d kept so many secrets, I’m not sure even now whether they’re all out in the open. Perhaps meeting two of them tomorrow will shed some light on whether I can really trust my northern brothers, or, whatever I should refer to Swift as.
“Beer?”
I swing around, not realising Salem was following me. I consider it for a moment. Yes, I could use a drink, but the clubhouse will be full of brothers talking about Owen and his revelations, going around in circles without solving shit. Rather than reliving the last few hours, some space might clear my head.
“Not sure my heart’s in it right now,” I tell the enforcer.
When he replies, “I know what you mean,” I realise this is the man who had been prepared to slice off a man’s dick and let him bleed to death. His job, but it doesn’t mean he enjoys doing it. But I’m only partly on the money as he continues, “Christ, the whole fuckin’ business makes me feel sick, Brother.”
I rest a sympathetic hand on his shoulder, and for his sake, and mine, I change the subject. “So, how do you feel about meeting Utah’s enforcer?” I can’t help the roll of my eyes.
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