Page 24 of Ruthless Son

Rex

Deep beneath the clubhouse, the tunnels were alive with the raucous sound of my brothers, gearing up for the run in a couple of days. I, however, was preparing for something different.

My toolbox sat open beside me, and I checked the contents to make sure I had everything I needed. I was in a good mood since I’d left Mia last night. I’d woken this morning determined to find Mickey, and lo and behold, guess what I found hiding out in a dingy motel room on the outskirts of town just this afternoon.

Money always got you answers, the motel owner had squealed his location like a stuck pig for a hundred bucks… and didn’t that just make my fuckin’ day!

After picking him up, Sly had brought him back hog-tied, blind-folded and ready for me. He wouldn’t dare start without me.

But first, I’d had to see Mia and let her know that her problem wasn’t a problem anymore. Taking Kannon with me had been a bonus, as it gave me an excuse to head to the flower shop where she’d been spotted heading that very morning. The quiet man had a thing for the little sister, and often popped in to buy bunches for no apparent reason other than to just look at the woman who always offered him a kind smile. Beats me why he did that, it’s not like he spoke back to her.

I’d seen her spew out a load of shit about the weather with a ditzy smile on her face and he’d merely stood there and stared, took the flowers and left. They’d eventually ended up in a bin behind the clubhouse, along with a whole load of other bouquets that he had wasted his money on just to go in and look at her.

The old crone knew exactly why he was there but never said anything to the sister—either of them—in case they jumped at the chance to get with one of us, I suppose. She would fuckin’ hate that.

The furthest room in the tunnels was the deepest underground, and the hallway slanted downward as I made my way to what we affectionately called the dungeon.

Excitement warred with my anger, I had a job to do and I couldn’t get carried away with my sick desire to take my rage out on the bastard.

Muffled screams reached my ears as I stood outside the locked room, my prez leaned against the wall outside, like Cerberus guarding the gates of hell, his eyes closed as if he was enjoying listening to the wails of Mickey’s fear.

“I know you have a personal vendetta against the guy, but try not to kill him until you have the information we need.”

I snorted in response. “I’m offended, Prez. This ain’t my first rodeo, I know how to make it last.” His eyes shot open, pinning me to my spot. I sometimes forgot that the man had a mean streak a mile wide, he was normally so laid back. But the devil was obvious in his dark eyes.

“Once you’ve got what we need, you can have your fun.”

His big hand clasped my shoulder before he walked away, ducking to miss the exposed bulbs that dangled from the ceiling. “Don’t worry, I will,” I replied happily, my voice echoing in the concrete tunnel.

“You know it’s not normal that you’re so excited for this,” he called out before he disappeared into the main ante-chamber, probably to check on the brothers who were preparing for the ride.

The door was unlocked for me, it wasn’t like he was getting out. The stone dungeon was the size of a double room, drains skirted the walls for ease of cleaning up after I finished each time. It was difficult to keep everything in one spot, death was such a messy business.

Mickey lay strapped to a metal gurney in the center of the room, his pale face held down with a leather strap across his forehead. Every limb was held down, my brothers had been meticulous in their confinement. The straps were so tight, his fingers had whitened, the blood flow stopping at his wrist where the black strap pinched the skin. His veins protruded in the crook of his elbows where he strained against his captivity. He was a perfect specimen for my trade.

“Hello, Mickey.” I removed the gag that garbled his words, but not enough to stop his screams.

Panic etched across his face, but he didn’t seem scared enough in my opinion, he was like all the rest who thought they had a chance in hell of getting out of here. But what they didn’t know is once you entered the dungeon, there was no getting out unless you were in a body bag.

But that hope was useful when it came to getting what I wanted. I needed to know how our drugs were getting fucked up and shipped back to our town, and if he thought that once he told me what he knew he’d be released, well then, more fool him.

“I dunno what you want, man,” he stuttered, fear beginning to take over.

“You know what I want, Mickey. You’ve been dealing drugs in my town and people are dying. Maybe you could help me with that.” I extended the olive branch, a ruse to get him squealing like the motel owner who gave him up. There was just no loyalty these days, and this was why not everyone could do what we did.

“I… I… just sold the stuff. I dunno where it came from, just some guy gave it to me and I got a cut of the profit, I promise.” His words spewed out in a rush, eager to try and get away from the hangman’s noose.

“You promise?” He tried to nod against the strap, forgetting that he was trapped. “Well I’m not sure I believe you.”

I propped my toolbox on the steel trolley beside him, and flicked the lock. From his prone position, he couldn’t look inside, but curiosity and fear warred within him… it always did when my box of tricks came out to play.

In the far corner, two large tubs on wheels stood waiting for me, and I wheeled them over, one on each side beneath his arms before returning to stand over him. He looked small and insignificant laying on my gurney, his body trembling. Did Mia tremble when he attacked her? I shook the thoughts off, her revenge would come after I had done my duty. And though she wouldn’t know, she would be safe and that would be because I had made it so.

“What are they for?”

“Do you know what I do for a living?” I asked him, laying out the apparatus on the tray. His mumbled no was music to my ears. I loved the shock on their faces when I told them.

“After I joined the Street Kings, prez told me I still needed to carry on with my education, so I went to school, got my bachelor’s degree in mortuary science. Sounds fun, right?” I chuckled as his eyes widened. “Yea, three years of study and I could officially work for the ‘family’ business. I’m the embalmer, Mickey.” Tears streamed down his face as I held up my pocket knife, the sharp blade pointed at the arm closest to me.

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