On my silent order, Big Gun removed the tool from the guy’s mouth. “Speak, bitch.”
“Wrench,” Pat spat, his rancid breath mixed with the scent of blood filling my nostrils. “Mama needed help to go to Wrench.”
I cocked a brow. Wrench was the VP of the Detroit chapter and Roar’s best friend. Whenshekilled Roar, Wrench was the first to launch a crusade down here, demanding the cunt was killed. It took a massive gun deal delivered to him to shut him up.
“You’re lying.” I nodded at Big Gun again.
The sharp edge of the pliers hit Pat’s teeth. He jerked his head and shook it fast, bloody spit spraying right and left. “No, no, I swear. I arranged for the ride myself.”
“You helped her out of the state?” I snarled.
He stilled as he suddenly realized what he’d said. “It’s not what you think, Prez! I swear I didn’t know you had beef with her then.”
I stared into his glazed, half-open eyes, making sure he understood I wasn’t fucking around.
“That’s all I know. I’d never lie to you, Prez,” he stammered. Then he started crying.
Fine. He wasn’t lying. He was just a stupid fuck who believed that snake bitch. A junkie who would do anything for blow.
He fell to my boots, begging for mercy. I kicked him off me and started for the back door. “Church in five. And tell one of the prospects to grab a mop and clean up here,” I told Big Gun.
“No, no, no!” Pat screamed and whimpered like a little bitch. “I’m sorry. Please—”
Bang!
I didn’t have to look back to know that his blood and brain matter flew over and splattered on the floor.
CHAPTER 15
Dusty
I took the back exit and headed straight to the clubhouse. If I set foot inside the house, I wouldn’t be able to stop myself from checking on Cammie, and that would take hours. If it were for me, I’d stay with her all day and all night until she woke up.
But I was doing all this for her. I had to find the cunt that set my VP, my real father, to rape my ol’lady and drive her away from me. The bitch behind the murder of my unborn child.
For the fire blazing inside me, consuming what was left of my heart and soul, to die, for Cammie to be safe and for us to live in peace as my ol’lady always wanted, Beth had to die.
I wouldn’t rest until I sent her to the hell she belonged to.
I stepped into the clubhouse, weed and cigarette smoke greeting me, music cranked up at its loudest. A few men were over at the pool table, laughing, holding their beers. A blonde lay on her back on the table, topless, spread eagle, an eight ball over her belly button, and one of the guys was aiming to shoot it with his stick. Except the stick was his cock and the hole was her mouth.
A bunch of brothers were hanging with their whores at the bar. In the middle of the clubhouse, prospects along with Owl—no longer just Doc now but our newly-appointed Treasurer after Beth ran off—sank in the leather couches, watching a couple of club skanks stripping and pole dancing.
The world might turn upside down, but the party never stopped in Rosewood. Well, it slowed down for a couple of days after what Rush and Beth had done, but that was all the Night Skulls could handle.
“Church, now,” I yelled over the music and headed up the stairs. Owl followed, and Skid, the Road Captain, emerged from the bar. By the time I reached the top of the stairs, Big Gun was entering the clubhouse and telling a prospect to clean up the mess in the Boiler.
I unlocked Church and took my seat at the head of the table. Owl and Skid took their places as well. Then Big Gun closed the door and sat next to me.
“The number of people allowed to this table keeps shrinking,” I said. Despite everything, not having Rush and Mam—Beth—here was hard to get used to.
Owl scratched his grey beard. “You really need to appoint a new VP, Prez. Now.”
“I’m being betrayed right and left. You really think this is the time to get someone new here? No. Besides, we have a more pressing matter to deal with.” My stare shifted around the three men. “As you all now, Beth was spotted with that fucking junkie at the Little Wicked, our own titty bar, right after she took off. According to him she was trying to reach Wrench.”
“The fucking shit she was.” Skid rested his elbows on the table, the skulls on his biceps bulging, his long, ginger hair covering half of his face. “Mama might be a lot of things, but she ain’t stupid. The piece of shit was lying.”
“Beth,” I corrected. “That bitch lost her name the second she set a hit on my ol’lady.”