CRUSH
The minuteI walk out my parents’ front door, Rage and Ice are at the ready, bikes beside them. They knew what I would want. Fuck, they anticipated it. “Think you need some shoes, maybe a shirt?” Dad comes up behind me, carrying what I need.
“Yep. You could have told me the second I was out.” My eyes are on all of them, my anger holding on by a thread. I know I probably shouldn’t have left Gigi like that, but the thirst for blood consumed me, mind, body, and soul.
“Not fuckin’ likely. You think a man wants to hear that his woman was bein’ watched while he was already doin’ time, think again.” This comes from Rage.
“Come on. Got the fucker on ice in the building,” Ice cuts through the air. I slide my feet into my boots, not givin’ a fuck about socks at this point, slide my shirt on that Dad had in his hands, and look for the smokes in my jeans. I’m gonna have my share of fun tonight. Then I’m going to come home and make Doe mine, now and for fuckin’ ever.
“Got your head on straight now?” Dad claps my back. He’s ready to get this show on the road, too.
“Fuck, yeah.” With that, I walk towards my bike, ready to ride and take care of the fucker who had no problem taking advantage of Gigi. God knows what else he’s capable of. I’m sliding my leg over the seat, kickstarting my bike, twist the throttle, and since it’s only a few minutes away from my parents’ house and the club, I’m trying to calm my shit, not go in half-cocked, ready to kill him with my bare hands before getting answers. If he did this to Doe, there’s an even greater chance that Karl has been doing it before. You can’t convince me otherwise, and since she’s been with my family for three years, there’s probably someone else. That knowledge eats me up inside, damn near making me want to hurl up the dinner we had after doing nothing but cleaning up shit all fuckin’ day.
In a matter of minutes, Rage is pulling up at the warehouse, all of us following suit. My bike is already off. I put the kickstand down and lift a leg to stand up.
“You good?” Ice asks. Him asking that is laughable considering the source.
“Will be.” I don’t question how he got Karl Phillips here. Quite frankly, I don’t give a shit. I’m just thankful he’s here and his fetish with being a voyeur with minors will be over after tonight. We walk towards the door. Dad is unlocking it with an access code along with a key. Never can be too paranoid when it comes to keeping a man on ice in a warehouse.
“Fuck, man, you weren’t kiddin’.” I walk in after Dad holds the door open for me, Rage letting me lead this parade. My uncle’s the President, so it’s not every day he allows something like this.
“Nope. Figured since you can’t take care of Winslow just yet, Karl here would do the job, at least for now.” Phillips is hanging from a meat hook. Someone took a page out of the Texas chapter when it came to serving this sick fuck-up to me on a platter.
“I’d say you did good.” Karl may be hanging from a hook, feet barely touching the ground, but there’s a table set up, a block of ice sitting on it, and there, lying on top of what has to be the cold-as-fuck ice, is a shriveled-up dick.
“How you gonna do this, Crush?” Rage asks beside me.
“I’ve got not one fuckin’ clue. All I know is I’m going to take my sweet-ass time,” I reply. My road name came to be because I crushed Winslow’s windpipe. Part of me wants to do that to Karl here, and no one would stop me. Especially down here in Louisiana, where the gators don’t have a problem getting rid of the evidence, but I think this man needs to suffer seeing how Gigi was stuck in his house for five miserable-as-fuck years.
“Good. We’re on the same page. Should have seen how I grabbed him, had his dick in the dirt. He was gettin’ off on some porn, a person attemptin’ to fuck a horse. Talk about a sick motherfucker,” Ice pipes in. He’s standing off to the side, unwrapping another block of ice.
“I’ve got an idea. How much more of that you got?” Ice gives me a smile that lets me know the response to my question. It’s going to be a long-as-fuck night, but I’ll be saving my hands for Winslow. Plus, this nasty fucking dude would probably get off on someone else’s hands on him. And there’s no damn way I’m going to touch him and bring that back to Doe, not when I’ll be making her mine whenever the hell tonight’s over.
“Good choice, son.” Dad helps Ice and me out, moving the blocks closer to Karl’s body, stacking the other cube on top of his pecker. The struggle Karl is putting up is dismal, and quite frankly, it’s taking the fun out of it.
“Fuck, no wonder he was a Peeping Tom. Look at that small thing. I bet my dog has a bigger pecker than that,” Rage jokes. That’s how we spend the remainder of the night, watching as Karl squirms well into the morning, and when he passes out, we throw warm water on his cock, waking him up while he attempts to scream out in pain. Duct tape took that noise away. Only after he’s frozen solid do we take him down to the swamp. Anticlimactic at best, but with the boys in blue poking around, we couldn’t make too much of a mess. I’ll be saving that for Winslow. I just need to bide my time, as hard as that’s going to be, but for my sake as well as Gigi’s, I’ll be doing just that.