by Lane Hart
“Yeah, I’m well aware of that too,” he responds snidely as he crosses his arms over his chest.
Instead of arguing that I made sure she still came, I ask, “You still haven’t said how you know she’s War’s sister.”
“I ran her license plate. The car’s in his name,” he grumbles. “Everyone thinks I’m a genius, when all I do is run a few numbers through a database and ta-da, I get answers.”
“Oh,” I reply. “So, are you going to tell War?”
“Are you?” he counters.
“No.”
“Why not?” Reece asks.
“Because he would kill me.”
“Good. So, you’re not as dumb as you look,” he scoffs before he goes over and sits down in his Captain Kirk-looking computer chair.
“Can I go now?” I ask. “Are we done talking about this?”
“We’re done talking about your premature ejaculation, but not the prospects.”
“There was no premature ejaculation!” I yell defensively. “It was fucking amazing sex, for me and her! Something you wouldn’t know anything about. People living in glass basements really shouldn’t be throwing stones, should they?”
Rather than be offended by my remark, Reece only smirks and shakes his head.
“Go through the phones, and then get the hell out of my apartment,” he says.
“You were serious about that?” I ask as I pull them out. “I thought you were just fucking with them.”
“No,” he says with a sigh. “The dumbass really was wandering around down here with his phone out. I thought I would let you do the honors.”
“Should we cut him loose for that?” I ask.
“What do you think?” Reece asks.
Shrugging, I say, “Maybe he was just curious. I wouldn’t know, since I lived down here for two years before I became a prospect.”
“Yes,” he agrees. “But did you ever step foot in the chapel without permission?”
“He was in the chapel?” I ask.
“Yep.”
“Shit.”
“Check his photos,” Reece suggests, so I do.
“Wow. The stupid fucker took pics of the table,” I tell him, turning the screen around to show him.
“Why would he do that?” Reece asks, not like he doesn’t know the answer, but wants me to come up with my own.
“To post and brag about on social media?” I suggest.
“Maybe. Kids today do like to share photos of every fucking thing,” Reece grumbles. “Keep looking.”
I pull up the calls and text chats next.
“Hmm,” I say, as I go through a chat log.
“What?” Reece asks.
“Mike has been talking to someone on a chat log named only as PB,” I tell him. “That’s odd, right? No one goes by the initials P.B., do they?”
“Not that I’ve ever heard,” Reece agrees. “What do they talk about?”
“Mostly Mike is just checking in, saying ‘No news today. I’ll call if something comes up.’”
“When did the log start?” he asks.
I scroll up to the top to get to the first message. “A few weeks ago.”
“The exact date?” Reece demands.
“August sixth.”
“And what was August sixth?” he asks me.
“I dunno. The beginning of the month?”
“You really should keep better records of shit,” he huffs. “It was the day we picked our potential new prospects.”
“So, you think that’s significant?”
“Maybe not normally,” he replies. “But when the feds are trying to get their hooks in the Kings, hell yes.”
“Holy shit!” I exclaim in understanding. “You think he’s a snitch? But we vetted him!”
“Do you think he’s a snitch?” he asks.
“Jesus,” I mutter. “It’s starting to look like it’s a possibility.”
“‘Looks like a possibility’ isn’t having proof. We need proof,” Reece explains. “Undisputable proof. How do you suggest we do that?”
“Follow him? Bug his phone?” I suggest. “Hell, I don’t know. You’re the expert on snooping on people.”
“Only to keep my people safe,” he argues. “And I think that, in this case, it may be time for us to try another method of investigation.”
He swivels his chair to look at the screen showing the bar, where Mike and Cedric are still sitting as still as statues.
“If we let him leave now, after he knows we looked at his phone, he may not ever come back,” I point out.
“Exactly,” Reece agrees when he spins back around to look at me. “If we want answers from him, we’re gonna have to extract them by force.”
“Torture?” I ask in understanding.
“It only hurts if he doesn’t talk,” he says with an evil smile.
“You’re looking forward to inflicting some pain on him, though, aren’t you?”
“Hell yes, I am. When I find a roach, I squash that motherfucker,” Reece replies. “But we can’t do it here.”
“Then where?” I ask before it hits me. A place the Kings own, with no one around for miles, and so dirty that any evidence could easily be destroyed. “The salvage yard?”
“See, now you’re thinking like a Savage King,” he replies with a chuckle. Getting to his feet, he rubs his hands together like a comic villain and says, “Today, I’m actually looking forward to leaving the basement.”
“But if you leave, who’ll watch the cameras?” I ask.
Reece is already pulling out his phone and putting it to his ear. “Fast Eddie and I are gonna switch roles for a few hours.”
…
Audrey
I didn’t tell Maddox the real reason I was in town—that my former professor creeped me out in the produce section of the grocery store. In fact, we didn’t really talk much at all. But I guess I can’t blame him, since that’s all I acted like I wanted, when really, I wanted a lot more.
Turns out, Maddox doesn’t.
He said he’s worried about my brother finding out about us, and I know he would probably get his ass kicked by Warren because he is so protective. If Maddox actually wanted to keep seeing me, then I think I could talk my brother down. Probably.
Anyway, I was most likely overreacting, and Professor Burrows was just all dirty talk and not being serious. He wouldn’t have told anyone about the two of us being together last year, or he would be risking not only his job but his entire career, since he teaches at an all-girl Methodist university.
I decide I’ll pack up my things and head back to campus tomorrow, since I feel like the fourth wheel here at Warren’s house. Ren thinks Nova has been staying in my room when, in reality, she and Warren are shacking up, which makes me think things between them are pretty serious. My brother is incredibly protective over me and Ren, so if he’s letting a woman stay in the house, he must love her and trust her not to up and leave, hurting himself and Ren.
Speaking of my adorable nephew… “Good night, sweet boy,” I tell Ren before I kiss his forehead and tuck him in after his third bedtime book.
“Night, Audrey,” he says, and then leans over his small bed to pet his new best friend. “Night, Stella.”
Ren was so happy to see me, and then the kitten was an added bonus since he’s never had a pet. Warren always said he was too busy to look after any animals too, and now I know why—living a double life must take up a lot of his time.
Thankfully, my brother has been in a really great mood since Nova is here with him, so he barely even lifted an eyebrow at my new pet visiting.
And while I’m happy that everything seems to be going great for my brother, that doesn’t mean I’ve let him off the hook for lying to me for years.
Back in the living room, Warren and Nova have the volume down on the television, watching some medical sitcom when I join them.
“Ren finally let you escape?” Warren asks with a grin.
“He did. After three storie
s,” I say as I plop down on the sofa, and Stella climbs up and jumps in my lap. I give her scruffy head a rub because she was so good playing with Ren and didn’t scratch him, even when he picked her up and held her like a baby.
“I’m surprised he didn’t try to abduct your cat for the night,” he replies with a chuckle. “Now you’re gonna have him wanting a pet.”
“He should have a pet,” I tell him while I keep rubbing mine. “Mom and Dad let us have pets…”
“Low blow,” he grumbles.
He thinks that’s low, when he lied to me for who knows how many years.
“Did you ever work as a mechanic in an auto shop?” I ask him.
“Yes,” Warren answers. “But just before we left Texas. I never worked in one here.”
“Wow,” I scoff. “So, you’ve been lying to me for almost seven years, ever since we moved here from Texas?”
“I wouldn’t call it lying,” he replies. “It was more like withholding the entire truth.”
“Same thing,” I point out. “Do you carry a gun?”
“Yes.”
“Have you ever shot anyone with it?”
“Maybe.”
“Warren!” I exclaim, both at his half-answer and the fact that I think he has. “You shot someone?”
“Am I on trial here, or what?” he huffs. “It’s bad enough that I have this one questioning me constantly,” he says when he kisses Nova’s nose.
“Do you approve of my brother’s secret life?” I ask her.
“I’m not sure if I approve, but I’m trying to accept all of him, the good and the bad,” she answers.
“So that’s a no?”
“Don’t put words in her mouth,” Warren responds. “And the less you know about the MC, the better.”
“What if I told you that about my life?” I challenge. “Don’t worry about what happens at school. The less you know, the better.”
“What is there to know about an all-girls university?” Warren asks. “You eat, sleep, and go to class. That’s it, right?”
“Yeah, Warren, that’s all there is,” I say with a roll of my eyes. He has no clue what it’s like to be a woman at the mercy of the men of the world.
And sure, I blame myself for the position I’m in with Professor Burrows, since I’m the one who first came on to him. But then he blackmailed me for sex for weeks because he could, and there was nothing I could do to stop him unless I want to drop out of school. No one would believe me over him anyway, not when he puts all the blame at my feet and says I seduced him. While that’s true, I didn’t intend to fall into a trap where I had to do him whenever he said until the end of the semester.
I don’t think I can handle that again, if what he said about Professor Talbot is true. But I need the class to graduate and it’s only taught in the fall semester by one freaking man!
When the semester starts, I’ll just sit in the back of the class, keep my head down, and study my ass off to make sure I pass. I won’t even smile at the man on the chance he’ll get the wrong idea. I’m sure that I’m just overreacting, and everything will be fine.
Chapter Thirteen
Maddox
“You can’t do this to me!” Mike yells at us, as Sax and I hold him down on the wooden chair and Reece ties his ankles to the legs and his hands through the slats behind his back.
“I think we just did,” Reece remarks before he comes around and stands in front of him. “Let him go, he’s not going anywhere,” he tells me.
I release my hold on his shoulders and heave a sigh of relief that this part is over. Sweat is dripping down my forehead and neck because dragging the asshole from the clubhouse to the salvage yard’s old garage, then holding him down while restraining him was hard work.
The big room is empty, except for oil and grease stains. The stale, automotive smell reminds me of my time training, also known as Reece whipping me into ass-kicking shape.
“Now,” Reece starts, “do you want to start talking, or do you want us to find new and creative ways to hurt you until you decide to talk?”
“Talk?” Mike asks. “I don’t know what you’re talking about.”
“Who is the contact PB in your phone?” Reece asks.
Yeah, we could’ve called the number to see who answers, but if we used Mike’s phone and didn’t say anything, they would worry he’s in trouble. And if we use another phone, even a burner, and then something unfortunate happens to Mike, it could come back on us. So, Reece is determined to make the man talk instead.
“Peanut Butter,” Mike answers. “He’s a friend of Jelly. Maybe you know him?”
“Hit him in his smart mouth for us, Maddox,” Sax instructs. I gladly haul my fist back and slam it into his mouth so hard his teeth cut his lips open and blood drips from them.
“We’re not playing games here, son.” Reece kneels down in front of Mike. “You want to try and be funny again, or do you want to start explaining who you’ve been texting since you got your prospect cut. You give us some answers, maybe we’ll let you walk out of here alive.”
“I’m not scared of you,” Mike says. He’s clearly an idiot who doesn’t know Reece like I do.
“Tool time?” Sax asks Reece.
“Maddox, go get them from the van,” Reece says, tipping his head toward the door. I head out and grab his toolbox from the van, curious to see what’s inside.
Before I pick up the oversized toolbox, I flip the tabs to open it up to see what implements Reece has packed. I’m not sure if I’m disappointed or relieved when I give the tools a quick shuffle, revealing only mundane pliers, wrenches, and clamps. Other than the propane blowtorch, none of it looks particularly intimidating.
When I get back to the room where Mike is being restrained, I set the toolbox on a table and then step away as Reece comes over and flips open the lid.
“All right, gentlemen, let’s get to work,” Reece says. Turning back to Mike, he asks conversationally, “You ever seen that show on HBO, Game of Thrones?”
I haven’t seen the show, but for some reason, the comment causes Mike to start trembling violently. He takes a deep breath to steady himself, then says, “Yeah, I’ve seen it. Read the books too.”
“Oh shit, look at this literate motherfucker!” Reece laughs. “That’s good, that’s really good. You’ve got some idea then, of the things I can do to you. Things that won’t kill you, but will make you…different. Some might even say, unrecognizable. Now, are you sure you don’t have anything you want to tell me before we get started?” As Reece was talking, I watched him slip a pair of needle-nosed pliers into the back pocket of his jeans, before walking to stand behind Mike’s chair.
Mike hangs his head but doesn’t say anything in reply as Reece crouches down behind him. “All right, then. Time to get medieval and all that. We’ll start by destroying things that might grow back, if you live long enough.”
I can’t see what Reece is doing behind the chair where Mike’s hands are tied, but I think I understand when his head suddenly jerks up and he lets out a long gargling scream. Sure enough, Reece pops up holding the pliers, with one ragged fingernail gripped tightly at the tip.
“You say something, champ?” Reece asks when Mike’s scream dissolves into a gasping sob. “Anything at all you want to get off your chest?” he asks again, dropping the fingernail on Mike’s lap. “No? Ok then, back to work I go. Remember now, you can stop me anytime,” he adds as he crouches behind the chair.
I have seen some shit in my life, but the next few minutes of watching Reece work on Mike will be burned in my memory forever. He works methodically, and every few seconds, another fingernail joins the growing pile on Mike’s lap. After what seems like an eternity but could only have been a couple of minutes, Reece stands up and walks around the front of the chair, then sits down cross-legged in front of his victim.
“All done back there!” he says cheerfully, pulling a shop rag out of his pocket to wipe his pliers. “You sure you don’t want to tell me m
ore about your friend ‘Peanut Butter’ before I start working on these little piggies down here?”
Mike is still conscious, gasping and wheezing as Reece begins untying his boots. It takes him a minute to get them off of Mike since he’s tied so tightly to the chair. “Still holding out on me? All right then.” Reece chuckles, bending down to begin working on the feet.
I look over to Sax, who I notice is looking pale as his trembling hands light a cigarette. “You mind if I get one of those from you?” I ask him.
“Didn’t know you smoked,” he says, as he passes me the pack of Marlboros and his lighter.
“I don’t,” I reply grimly. “Shit like this will make a man want to start.”
“Shit like this will drive a man fucking insane.” Sax shudders. “That boy screams like a wildcat getting fucked with a drill.”
“Don’t give Reece any ideas,” I mutter.
We both walk away as we smoke, circling back around once we’ve thrown the butts out into the yard. By that time, Reece is back over at his toolbox, cleaning his pliers, and Mike is slumped over, noisily sobbing into his own lap.
“Think I almost had him,” Reece idly comments as we approach.
“Yeah? What did he finally say?” I ask him.
“He started muttering that we’ll kill him if he tells us, he knows we will. I tried to reassure him, and told him I would eventually kill him anyway, but I think he started passing out. Sax, go run a bucket of water from the hose outside and dump it on him. Let’s perk him up and see if he’s ready to give this up.”
“Ok,” Sax agrees, jogging outside.
“What could he have done that’s so bad he thinks we’ll kill him over it?” I wonder aloud.
“That’s the meat of it, isn’t it?” Reece replies. “He obviously thinks he’s done something so terrible it’s worth all this, or maybe he’s protecting something. Either way, Phase Two will loosen his lips. No one gets past Phase Two.”
“Do I even want to know what ‘Phase Two’ is?” I ask with a raised eyebrow.
“You never want to find out, no.” Reece sighs. “Looks like we might not have a choice, though.”