Page 89 of Rex

I shrug, not caring either way. Horse hesitates, then starts stripping out of his clothes. I step back outside and watch Petey and Trigger gliding through the water headed toward the ranch. Chubs is sitting on a rickety chair watching them too when I hand him a water bottle.

“She’ll be safe with Gunner. He might have been acting a dick lately, but he’ll not let her get hurt,” Chubs says in a quiet voice. “I texted Les so he’s aware of what’s happening. He’s going to Aria’s office too as soon as he gets clear of a meeting.”

“I know. I trust him. I’m just so fucking frustrated at not having our hands on this Dale guy yet.”

“I called Margie this morning just to be sure he didn’t show up to work, but he didn’t. Guess he isn’t as stupid as I was hoping he was,” Chubs states.

“These clothes suck, but they’re dry,” Horse says as he joins us.

When Chubs starts chuckling, I turn to look at Horse. Dale is much shorter and much wider than Horse, apparently. Old, nasty gray sweatpants don’t reach all the way to Horse’s biker boots, so there’s a swatch of pale, white, hairy skin showing between the boots and cloth. Horse has a hand holding the waist cinched in so they don’t fall. Guess the tie string is missing. The pants are wide as hell and resemble those old army uniform pants that bagged out at the thighs. The t-shirt is a few sizes too big and baggy, but at the same time, short on Horse’s longer torso. Another swatch of skin, this time tanned, shows below the hem. The shirt looks like those cutoff, short shirts women wear that bare their midriff. I can’t help my snort of laughter, and it only earns me a glare from Horse.

“That’s quite the outfit, Horse,” Chubs states.

“It’s dry! At least I didn’t challenge a squirrel to a death match today!” Horse shouts.

“Did you give Petey your keys?” I ask.

“Fuck. No, I forgot. We’ll have to walk out and move my truck and whatever Chubs arrived in. Might as well go now.”

I nod, and the three of us start the journey, Horse holding his wet clothes in one hand while the other keeps his ass covered. We’re silent as we walk, each deep in their own thoughts. When we’re almost to the truck, my phone vibrates. Pulling it out, I see a text from Pooh.

Pooh: Come to the clubhouse asap.

Me: On our way. Anything new?

Pooh: Yeah. We have a visitor. Make it fast.

Me: Where’s Aria?

Pooh: With James on her way here. Prez is in a better mood. Got to work off some of his anger.

I read the text to the guys, and we break into a jog. It’s got to be good news, right? Jumping into Horse’s truck, I slam the door and put on my seatbelt. Horse pulls out, gunning his truck into a sliding half-circle until we’re pointed in the right direction. We wait for Chubs and tear off when he pulls in behind us. The trip to town takes half the time it normally would, and I’m suddenly appreciating Horse more than I can say.

Stopping the truck in a cloud of dust, I bail out and jog to the door of the clubhouse, Horse on my heels. Stepping inside, I wait a second to let my eyes adjust to the dimness of the room. Tessie is walking toward me, and I watch as her eyes go wide before she frowns at something behind me. Realizing it’s Horse she’s looking at, I move toward the bar where Freddy is sitting.

“I have to rethink my whole life,” I hear Tessie mutter before the door opens and bangs shut behind her.

“Freddy! Where’s Gunner?” I ask.

“Take a seat. He’ll be here in a couple of minutes. Have a beer.”

“Where’s Aria?” I ask impatiently.

“At Pooh’s with Pippa and Tammy. Prez had James take her there for the time being. Calm down, Rex. Gunner has your guy,” Freddy answers in a calm, soothing tone as he sets a beer in front of me and Horse. “The stalker guy is hanging out downstairs, and Gunner’s home changing clothes and getting repairs. Themoron puked on the Prez then started crying. It was sad and ugly.”

I heard his words but somehow skipped past the “getting repairs” part.

Chubs comes charging into the room, and I explain what I know as I stalk across the room, headed for the basement staircase.

“Don’t kill him,” Freddy orders. “Prez said he’s not done with him yet.”

Chubs, Horse, and I make our way to the cement cell in the basement. Yanking open the door, I realize Freddy wasn’t joking. Dale is actually hanging from a hook in the ceiling by his wrists, which are tied together. His toes touch the floor, but not by much. His clothes have vomit and blood splatters, and he’s still crying.

I reach forward and give his hip a push, and it turns him to face us. Eyes puffy from punches and tears, he’s a mess. Looking down, I see he’s even pissed himself.

“Don’t hurt me! Please! I didn’t do anything!” Dale begs before sniffling.

“Didn’t do anything? You fucking stalked and terrorized my woman! You killed your mom and aunt and say you’ve done nothing? What the fuck?” I shout while he twitches and flinches in fear.

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