Page 36 of Dozer

“We have guests,” Bullet said, standing behind an older biker. The man sat in a chair with his jeans and underwear around his chained ankles. His balls and dick dangled from the large hole cut in the seat. His cut was on the ground beneath him and appeared as if he’d already pissed on it. Wetness coated the leather and turned the dirt muddy.

“Introduce us,” Blade said, stepping forward.

“This is Roach.” Salt and pepper hair hung in a frizzy, snarled mess to his shoulders. Panic shimmered in his wide eyes. “Enforcer of the Night Crawlers and enjoys playing with fire. Turns out he’s the biggest fucking pussy of the three. Wants to trade with the new president of the Hellers. Information for his life.”

Bullet handed Blade a pair of gloves.

“I have all the information I need.” Blade squatted in front of Roach and tugged on the gloves. “Welcome to the party, Roach.”

A slow menacing smile curled Bullet’s lips. The asskicking he’d given me in the basement was nothing compared to the twisted punishment he was capable of.

Blade stood. His shoulders stiffened as he turned to me and Sully. “We’re all in, or we’re all out.”

There was no question on Bullet’s position. Somehow, he’d managed to get all three Crawlers out here in the middle of nowhere for his version,our version, of justice.

Sully cracked his knuckles.

I stepped forward. “Which one put the needle in Pike’s arm?”

Bullet tipped his chin to a tall, skinny, pasty-faced biker. Rope bound his wrists and stretched his arms over his head. He dangled from the rafter, his bare feet just touching the ground. He wore his cut and nothing else. Track marks and tattoos covered his arms and legs. Goosebumps rippled his shivering flesh.

“Snow is the Crawler pharmacist. He’s feeling a little dope sick.” Bullet grabbed his hair and wrenched his head back. “He does all the cutting for the Crawlers. Mixes that good white heroin with laundry soap and rat poison.”

“And this fucker?” Sully asked of the third Crawler sitting naked on the ground with his wrists bound in front of him, covering his dick and balls with his cupped hands. Tears streamed down his plump cheeks.

Bullet laughed. “They call him Stitch. That’s the motherfucker who picked up Pike for the Crawler party. I returned the favor when I pulled him off Jinx.” Bullet had a stable of whores. Jinx was one of many. Not necessarily a pimp. Fuck, yeah, he was a pimp on the down low for a fair cut.

Bullet sparked a torch and adjusted the flame.

Rogue stepped closer and stared hard at the Crawler. “Roach, you look familiar to me. Do you remember my face?”

He responded with a violent shake of his head.

“I think you do. You haven’t taken your eyes off me since I walked in here. You’re hoping I don’t remember you. Maybe you’re hoping that I didn’t see who held the gun that night at the container yard.”

He continued to shake his head, grunting around the gag in his mouth.

Rogue rolled his shoulders and cracked his neck. “Brothers,” he said to us, “tonight, we get justice for Texas.”

These guys were at the container yard? Texas was dead. My old man was taking the fall.

“Fuck you!” I thrust my boot against the guy’s chest. The chair tipped, crashing to the floor. Roach gasped with the impact. I stood over him and spit in his face.

“Time to pay, motherfucker.” Bullet torched his genitalia. Roach screamed around the gag in his mouth. The stench of burning flesh filled the barn.

This was only the beginning.

Rogue, Sully, and Bullet had hardened to the infliction of pain on the human body. I had a conscience, even though I chose to ignore it most of the time. This was different. We were avenging a wrong. At least that was what I was going to tell myself if this shit ever kept me up at night.

After today, I was no longer my dad’s kid in the MC. We were equals, both having blood on our hands. I finally understood what being part of a brotherhood meant.

I turned to Blade. His arms hung loose at his side with a needle still clutched in his hand. We’d pumped enough chemicals into the pharmacist to make him radioactive. None of them were his drug of choice.

I lit a cigarette. “You okay,” I asked, blowing thin streams of smoke from my nostrils. The coppery scent of blood burned in my nose.

He stabbed the needle into the guy, leaving it to protrude from his chest. “For Texas, for Pike…and for Kiss.” He pressed the plunger.

“For Hana, Pippa, Jazzy and Levi.”

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