Chapter Ten
Saint stood in Ralf’s apartment as he waited for the rest of the club to get there. He walked into the shower room and pulled out the curtain. Wrapping the body up, he started to gather up all the pictures and shit.
Minutes passed until there was a knock at the door. Going to the door, he opened it to see Rage and Willy waiting.
“Pea, Zeus, and Vanilla are heading up,” Willy said.
Saint moved to stand at the body.
“What the fuck happened?” Rage asked.
Handing over the pictures, Saint went about grabbing up the evidence of Ralf’s craziness.
“What the fuck?”
Saint finished gathering everything and looked at his brothers. They all filled the room, and the door was finally closed.
“Knife told me that he was convinced someone was watching his apartment. He was concerned for Sarah’s life. I came here, and Ralf wanted to kill all of the Hell’s Wolves. He was fucking crazy.”
“So you killed him?” Pea asked.
“Fucking think about it. Ralf had lost his bastard mind. He was always fucking unstable, but we did fuck all about it. We have a code. We live by the rules of the road. We all agreed to it, and that’s what I did. I wasn’t going to risk the club because Ralf couldn’t handle his woman moving on.”
“Fucking hell,” Vanilla said.
“It’s done.” He gathered up the body and lifted him. Saint struggled, but he wouldn’t allow one of the brothers to take over.
“Where are you taking him?” Pea asked.
“To be buried out in the fields.”
“Let me help,” Rage asked.
Saint didn’t say anything. “Clean up the apartment, and make a note. I want it to look like he just left. Leave his jacket as well.”
He would leave the apartment, so when he didn’t pay rent, the landlord would find an empty apartment.
Dumping Ralf into the back of the car, he climbed behind the wheel, ready to take off.
“You didn’t use a weapon to kill him.”
“Weapons create mess. I learned my lesson the hard way.” Saint had learned it was easier and cleaner to simply use his hands. He didn’t like the cleanup afterward.
“Do you want to talk about it?”
“No.”
“Shit, Saint, you can’t bottle this up.”
“I’m not bottling anything up. I’m doing my job for my club, nothing more, nothing less.” Rubbing at his temple, they rode out to the clubhouse to get the necessary shovels. Once he was ready, they drove out to the far field in silence. Saint didn’t want to talk. Natasha was already plaguing him in ways he wasn’t happy about. He’d not thought about her in so long.
“Did he fight?” Rage asked.
“Of course he fought. They always fight. It’s what they do. They fight.” Parking the car, Saint grabbed his shovel, found a spot, and started digging.
“No one is going to blame you.”
“You clearly want to talk about your feelings. What the fuck is the problem, Rage? You got an issue.”