Page 31 of The Sins Of The Biker

He doesn’t move, just smiles. “Do it. I’m dead anyway if I tell you.”

My finger rubs against the trigger, and I’m tempted to pull it and kill the man who tried to kill me, but I know I can’t. As much as I want to, this man holds all the answers to my questions.

Stepping away, I walk toward Wave and ask him to follow me into the kitchen. The other boys have their guns trained on the men, so I know we’re good to step away.

“What’s up, Prez? How you wanna handle this?”

“I wanna fuckin’ kill that asshole, but we need him. What do you suggest we do? He’s not talking.”

Wave looks away in thought, then back at me with a smile. “We could torture the fucker.”

I think about what he’s saying. If we take our time torturing him, the pain might become unbearable, and he’ll give in.

“What kind of torture we talking about?” I have to admit, I’m not used to torturing people. However, I’m up for it if it means we get our answers.

“The only kind I know,” Wave says, his eyes distant.

“Look, Prez, let me and the boys handle this side of things. You don’t need to get your hands dirty.”

I think about what he says, and without hesitation, I say, “Fuck it. I wanna be around when I hear them tell us the names of the persons responsible.”

He nods. “Sure, I get it. Let me head out to the van and get some supplies. I knew I’d need them. Won’t be long.”

Wave takes the back door to head out to the van, and I walk back into the living room where all the men are located. I stand in front of them, arms crossed.

Pedro seems nervous. “Where’s your friend?” he asks, glancing behind me.

“Not your concern, asshole. You’ll find out soon enough.”

He swallows heavily. He is trying to prove that he’s strong and not scared of anything, but if I know Wave, he’ll have some plans for him. Deadly plans.

Tom smiles. They’ve done this before. Even before I was a prospect in the club, I heard Tom and Wave talking about the torture of one man who stole our gun shipment and how he eventually gave them the information. Not sure what happened to him after that.

Wave walks through the front door with a rolled-up black fabric-looking thing in his hands. My eyes travel from it then to Wave, and I nod, knowing what’s coming.

“Hey, what the fuck is that?” Pedro asks, seeing what Wave has in his hands.

We don’t reply.

Wave places the black bag on the kitchen table and yells, “Bring him here.”

Tom and Curly grab Pedro by his arms and pick him up, dragging him toward the kitchen.

“No. Please, no. What are you gonna do with that?”

Walking in behind them, I see what Wave has on the table. It’s now open, and spotless instruments gleam under the light, including knives, blades, and who knows what the fuck else lay inside in a perfect spot for each instrument. It reminds me of what surgeons might use.

“Lay his hands palms down,” Wave demands and Curly and Tom do as he says. Pedro is screaming and begging Wave not to hurt him, but Wave is in a world of his own and continues to take out his choice of instrument methodologically.

He smiles when he finds the one he’s looking for and lifts it to his eyes. “Yes, this should do it,” he explains. Fuck, my men definitely know what the fuck they’re doing. I haven’t been a prospect in the club for long, let alone the president, so this shit is all new to me, but I’m damn glad I have them. They’re the type of men you can count on.

“You’re getting one chance to give us a name, or you’re losing a finger. What’s it gonna be?”

Pedro shakes his head, sweat now spotting on his face. His bows scrunch while saying, “I can’t… they’ll kill me.”

“Like we said, we’ll kill you. So what’s it gonna be?”

“I can’t. I can’t.” He cries.

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