Page 37 of Papa's Beloved

I swing the bat hard, knowing the helmet will keep me from killing the turd too soon. Still, it was lights out for the princess.

“Throw him back in the cell until he regains consciousness. That hit should be good for a grade two concussion. Too bad I can’t do the same to Doctor Montgomery.”

“Who says you can’t?” Doc asks with a grin.

Chapter 28

Papa

Smoke works our prisoner Pablo Cotilla over. Thanks to our new friend Freak, who got his road name because of his heterochromia, we have one of the top five members of the G’Dawgs. So far, Pablo hasn’t given us anything but names. Names we already know.

I’m impressed by his ability to withstand Smoke, but my brother is just getting started. Smoke turns to me with a grin.

“I like your idea. Prospect brain bucket.”

“Do you want us to cut him down?” Havoc asks.

“Nah, if I miss, I miss. Now hand me the baseball bat.”

Pablo’s eyes widen. Hurl lowers the chains enough to let Havoc strap the helmet on the guy. As soon as it’s strapped on, Hurl raises the chains so the guy’s back on his tiptoes. Smoke takes the bat I used early and does some kick ass martial arts maneuvers with it.

“Nice balance,” he says, while bringing the bat to the guy's leg. The bat hits the meaty part of his leg. No broken bones, but it’ll leave one hell of a bruise. Not that it matters. This guy is gator bait. Smoke hits Pablo twice more before he brings the bat upside the helmet. I watch him pull his hit so he doesn’t knock the guy out.

“Papa! Your pet’s awake,” Mayhem yells.

“Bring him out.”

Mayhem and Hurl drag him out. Hurl rips the tape off his mouth. Jacob screams, then hurls all over the floor.

“Hose that down,” I command.

“On it.” Hustle yells, hurrying to get the hose.

He quickly sprays down the area and Jacob before returning the hose. Jacob continues to dry heave on the pavement, having already emptied the contents of his stomach. Grade two concussions are a bitch. Every movement or jolt of your body is excruciating.

“String him up.”

“No, please. No. Don’t touch me. I’ll tell you anything.”

“What cou–”

“Shut up, Golden, or you’ll wish you were dead,” Pablo spit out. Only it comes out all muffled because of the helmet.

“Fuck you, I can’t take no more.”

Jacob spends the next twenty minutes spewing all the information he knows. When he is done, we string him up and each one of us hits him with the bat before we cut him down and open the pit.

Jacob and Pablo scream when the floor drops out from underneath them. Pablo’s chains are yanked taut. His toes are now kissing air. Hungry gators snapped and jumped out of the water, waiting for their meal. We had the prospects chum the waters below while Jacob spilled his guts. Jacob falls into the mass of writing gators, who make quick work of him, though he was still alive when we dropped him down.

Smoke turns to Pablo and says, “We’ll kill you first before we feed you to the gators, if you tell me what I want to know.”

Then Smoke does what he does best. He gives that cold, dead stare that makes most men piss themselves.

Nay

STORMY LOOKS UP FROMher phone.

“Looks like it’s going to be a long day for the guys. Let's make them dinner.”

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