Page 11 of Ghoul

Ghoul

Idraped my arms over the ape hangers of my sled, impatiently waiting for the sun to set. It was easier to transport a dead body in the dark, drew less attention. People around here had a problem minding their own, so giving them less of a reason to be in Bastard business was better. I just wanted to deal with this fucker and drop him into Sac’s cage. As far as he knew, this guy owed our club money, and it was part of his initiation into the club. He wouldn’t be patched in for a while, but every prospect had to get their hands dirty along with the rest of us. Of course, there was no real danger in him getting in trouble with the law because we were working for the Feds, but he didn’t know that. The fear and adrenaline he would feel would be just as genuine as the rest of us felt committing our first crime. The devotion and loyalty he had to prove to the club weren’t any less real to him than any of us. As long as he did his job and didn’t tuck his tail, running off like a pussy, his future as a brother was pretty much a done deal.

“It’s fuckin’ hot out here,” I said, wiping the sweat off my forehead with the back of my hand.

“Got that right,” Sac called from the driver’s seat of his SUV. “My nuts are on fire.”

My balls were practically melded to the inside of my worn jeans at this point, so there was no question the dude was miserable. He didn’t get his name for having girth or length to his dick. I was surprised he didn’t walk around bow-legged, given how large his sac was, honestly.

“There he is.” Tin Man nodded his head and climbed off his ride, motioning our attention to the man exiting the gym. My blood ran cold at the mere sight of him. I couldn’t look at him without being reminded of all the horrific things I read that he had done.

Tin Man, Spider, and I parked our bikes in the alley, and Sac was parked in front of us to block this entrance, so nosy ass people wouldn’t see more than they needed to. We climbed in Sac’s back seat, getting ready to team up on the fucker.

“This sick fuck is mine,” I growled, clicking the safety off and securing the silencer on my gun. Quickly, I sat it my lap and put on a pair of black leather gloves. It was fucking hell to try and get blood out from under nails, so this was a necessary step to take.

Spider gave a simple nod of appreciation. “Drop this fucker, Tin Man and I will get the body.” He gave my shoulder a tight reassuring squeeze within his palm. I never had to worry if Spider had my back or not. I might not always understand his logic but did not doubt his motives. He always put the club first, just as the rest of us did.

“10-4.”

After securing my piece into the front of my jeans and telling myself that some shit wouldn’t go sideways, causing me to shoot my dick off, I was on my way.

“Hey, excuse me,” I called after the man, catching up to him as he unlocked his driver’s side door and opened it.

“What can I do for you?” he pleasantly responded. Fucker had no idea those were about to be the last words to leave his sick body.

I moved closer to him and pulled the gun out, pressing it against his side. “Get in the back.”

“I’m a police officer. You don’t want to do this,” he warned, and I gritted my teeth, my finger twitching to just drop his ass right here on the pavement. Using his job to try and intimidate me was the wrong fucking move. Probably the same thing he used to lure kids into his car or keep them quiet.

“You’re also a kid fucker, so I can assure you this is exactly what I want to do. Now, get in the fucking back seat.” I jabbed the end of the silencer harder against his skin, and he did as I ordered. I expected him to argue what I had just called him, but he didn’t say one damn word to deny it. He hung his head, and tears fell from his eyes. “You’ve got to be kidding me. What the hell do you have to cry for?”

“I tried to stop. I just couldn’t do it. I loved them—”

I whacked him upside his head with the gun, and his head bobbed backward from the force. “Don’t you fuckin’ dare. I don’t want to hear this shit,” I snarled, shoving the end of the suppressor between his teeth before he decided to say anything else. I squeezed the trigger, and brains and blood spattered across his backseat and up my arm.

“What happened to the plan?” Wily asked, raising his eyebrow as he slid into the driver’s seat of the vehicle seconds later.

“He pissed me off.” I shrugged, not offering to lie about what happened. “Figured we would have to dispose of his shit anyway. Why not make it the crime scene, too?”

“Ha.” Holding out his open hand, he said, “Keys?”

“Fuckin’ hell.”

“What?”

“I just needed him to shut up. Didn’t think about needing the keys.”

“Where they at?”

“Seat.”

Both of our eyes traveled to the leather interior, where his keyring landed. Gritting my teeth together in a shit-eating grin, I curled my finger through the ring and held them up for him to grab. Wily was a hell of a brother, but he was more of the brains behind things. He didn’t like getting stuff on his hands, especially when the shit happened to be another person. When we first met, I didn’t think he had what it took to be a Bastard. He wasn’t as big as some of us other brothers and had certain quirks about him, like not wanting random pieces of a dead guy on his hands. It made me question if he would change his mind about being a brother daily. The fucker was mean, though. Back when he was a hang-around, he told everyone is name was GT. All it took was one bar fight where he and I fought side by side, and it became clear what he had to be called. He was wily as fuck with the way he bobbed back and forth underneath the majority of punches thrown. Shit was impressive. After that, I insisted his road name be Wily.

“You got to be fucking kidding me, Ghoul. Is that a piece of his head?”

“Guess it could be,” I deadpanned, trying to keep a straight face as I inspected the bloody piece of flesh on the tip of my finger.

“Give me your damn glove.” His nose wrinkled a little, and he shook his head.

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