He starts to laugh as Verek gets to his feet. The room is so small with all three of our big bodies packed inside, I can only imagine what the scene looked like from his point-of-view.
“Winston, I never would have thought you’d give in to such desires while we’re so busy,” Cannon jokes. “But, Verek, I always knew you loved the…”
“Shut the fuck up, Cannon,” Verek snarls. “The VP got shot!”
“Well, that makes all of this moderately less amusing,” Cannon admits as his grin falters. “How bad you hit, Winston?”
“Not bad,” I confirm. “What’s the damage? Everyone else okay? The farmhouse secure?”
“We just got done sweeping it, and Roman sent me to find you two. You were the only ones unaccounted for. We got a couple of minor injuries, no casualties. We’re fine, and we’re ready to burn this fucking place to the ground.”
“Did you catch that Joey Simpson fucker?” Verek demands.
“Oh yeah. He went out the back of the farmhouse, but that big son of a bitch named Abe from the Emerald Isle Kings was back there with their VP, Chase. They hit him with some tasers and zip-tied him neat as you please. We sent some boys to go get the vans, so we’ve got this shit handled!”
I manage to get my pants back up over the bandana while Cannon is giving us the update, and nod toward the door when I see his brother, Conrad, rush through.
“Everything all right?” Conrad asks, pulling up short to look around at all the equipment in the outbuilding.
“Yeah,” Cannon replies. “Winston got hit, he’s just wrapping his leg up. Looks like he’ll be fine.”
“Roman!” Conrad yells back out into the yard. “Winston got shot! He’s all right!”
“He fucking what?” Roman roars from outside.
“Oh lord, here we go,” I mutter as Roman and some of the other Kings rush into the building, then raise my voice so everyone can hear the good news at once. “Look, I’m fine, it just grazed me! Let’s burn this fucking place down and go home!”
“Seems like burning all this stuff would be a bit of a waste,” Conrad observes. “There are thousands of dollars’ worth of decent film equipment in here.”
“What do you have in mind?” Roman asks.
“Why not salvage what we can and do what the Emerald Isle Kings are doing with the cam girls at the strip club? I’m sure we could find plenty of willing ladies who want to earn a few bucks.”
“No reason not to take what we can,” Roman agrees. “Drag this shit out into the yard and load up one of the vans. If we have to, we’ll just cram all the men in the other for the short ride home. Winston, you going to be able to ride your bike back?”
“Hell yeah, I’m going to ride,” I snort. “Now show Verek and I which of these boys fired the shot that killed that fucker out front there. We owe him one hell of a thank you.”
It’s almost two hours later when I ride down a steep hill, following one of the vans. The other one, along with the Emerald Isle Savage Kings, is on its way back to our clubhouse to unload before the boys get some rest. For us though, the night’s work is just beginning.
When we come to an old, cracked blacktop parking lot, overgrown with weeds and covered in blown sand, the van pulls to a stop, the headlights shining on an ancient weather-beaten boat house. The road to get down here was so overgrown, the van was pulling vines and undergrowth up from the ground as it passed, so this place has definitely been abandoned for a while.
“Get everything out of the van,” Roman orders as we kill our engines, “and set up inside the boathouse.”
We get to work quickly, and in only a few minutes, we’ve got the supplies we brought for the next phase of our plan spread out and ready.
“Put him in the stocks,” Roman orders as soon as we get Joey inside the boathouse. It takes five of us to get his head and wrists in place once we cut the zip ties holding his arms. To his credit, he struggles like a fish out of water. Eventually, we’re finally able to lower the top and lock it into place.
“This look fucking familiar?” Verek shouts when he leans down to get right in the man’s face. “How does it feel now that your ass is in one of these fucking things? Get comfortable because this is your new home, fucker. We’re going to make what’s left of your short life a living hell!”
Verek’s fist hauls back and then rams into Joey’s nose so hard I hear it crack. But he doesn’t stop there, he hits him in his face over and over again until his entire body sags in the stocks.
“What the fuck are you doing?” Roman growls at Verek, physically pulling him away from the limp man. “He can’t talk if he’s unconscious!”
“He doesn’t deserve to live another fucking second!” Verek yells back.
“You know the only reason he’s still breathing is so that we can find out who else hurt Tessa,” Roman reminds him. “And since you’ve made it pretty goddamn clear that you can’t keep your emotions in check, get the fuck out of here!”
“No,” Verek says, refusing a direct order from our president. “I’m staying. Wake his ass up and make him talk!”
“Watch it, Ver,” Roman warns, his jaw clenched tight. “Go. The fuck. Home!”
“I need to be here!” Verek argues. “For her!”
And man, I fucking get where he’s coming from. If this motherfucker had laid even a finger on Zoe, I’m not sure if I could find the restraint to not kill him outright. But Verek’s rage, it won’t do shit but keep lashing out until he gets so carried away, he kills the son of a bitch before we get the other names. No telling how long it will take until Joey breaks and tells us what we want to know. It’s a very thin line between hurting him to make him talk and going too far with the pain and ending him.
“You think you’ve got what it takes to kill him?” Roman asks. “To look into his eyes until he takes his last pleading breath?”
“Fuck yes!” Verek responds.
“Then fine, you can kill him when the time comes,” Roman explains. “But not until he gives up the names and I give the order. Do it before then and you’re not only letting Tessa down, but you’ll be handing in your cut. Have I made myself clear?”
Verek stares Roman down before he finally caves. He stomps over to the door and slams it on the way out, rattling the rickety walls so hard dust clouds rain down on our heads.
“If anyone sees him come back here while you’re on watch, notify me and I’ll handle him. But do not let him near this fucker again. Understood?”
“Yeah, prez,” I agree along with everyone else.
It’s been a helluva night and I’m swaying on my feet, exhausted and anxious to get back to see Zoe. I can’t help but worry that by leaving her earlier today, I busted that happy little bubble we had been in before our parents came home. What if there’s no way to get it back?
I don’t have a fucking clue what to expect the next time I see her. Have our parents given her a guilt trip for the past few hours and convinced her what we’ve been doing is wrong? Is she ashamed and ready to head back to New York to try and forget about the past few days? Who the fuck knows what’s going to happen now? I sure as hell don’t and I want answers.