Page 9 of Ghoul

10

Ghoul

FBI Headquarters

One Month Later

“Allen Blakely, aka Ghoul, I presume?” a petite woman with blonde hair and a nice ass questioned as we Bastards filed into an office and took seats around the table.

“Yes, ma’am,” I reluctantly replied, scanning my eyes around the room, taking note of how many armed men were in there with us. Spider and I could work murderous wonders, but this many loaded pieces in a room were too many for us to overcome. I highly doubted we were here for them to kill us, if they wanted that, they could have paid someone to shank us while we were in custody. I rolled my shoulders and glanced over to Tin Man. He straightened his posture and side glanced over to Wily. Since the first conversation Spider and I had, I’d never second-guessed him in any way until today. I would have almost preferred to still be the blissful idiot I was and died in my cell than work for them. I had seen enough shows on the TV to understand how this would go. All of us were now puppets of the FBI. I sure as shit hoped Spider knew what he was doing because I did not have even the tiniest fucking clue.

“I trust Mr. Starcher has brought you up to date on the deal we are offering you?” She sat down in the leather office chair at the head of the table and crossed her ankles beneath the glass table.

“Mhm,” I answered as Wily and Tin Man gave similar responses. I thought I was the only one who had been in the dark on this subject. The bright big flashing answer to that was I was very wrong about that. I wanted to grab Spiders’ ass and strangle some fucking sense into him, but this wasn’t the time nor place to do it. I planned to corner him as soon as we were alone and ask him the real reason behind all of this. As a one-percenter motorcycle club, ninety-nine-point nine percent of the time, we operated outside of the law, meaning we did not give them our cooperation. In fact, it wasn’t unusual for us to do everything within our power to defy them without getting caught by them. It was not uncommon for us to break multiple laws at the same time. Stealing guns, slinging dope, moving prostitutes…you name it, the four of us had probably either done it or taken part in it. We weren’t the model citizens for the job they should be hiring, so their desperation didn’t go unnoticed. Whatever we were signing our souls over for had to be dirtier than they wanted their hands in, but they were associated with it anyway.

“I have to go on record and tell you our conversation is being recorded, and if any of you decide to defer from our agreed-upon course, this will be used against you.” She pushed her black square frames back onto the bridge of her nose and continued, “As you can imagine, this was a difficult decision for us to make. However, we need a certain breed of monster with a like mind to take down these sick individuals.” She didn’t bother hiding behind pleasant words for our benefit.

“Fuck, lady, tell us how you really feel,” piped through my lips before I could stop the words from flowing out of me. I blamed the coke but probably would have said it without any drugs in my system.

“Mr. Blakely—”

“It’s Ghoul,” I retorted in a bored tone, not giving a shit if they cut my ass out of the deal and sent me packing all the way back to the state pen.

“Ghoul,” she cleared her throat, “None of us have to be friends. Nor does this require that I pretend to enjoy your company any more than you do mine. This is a means to a very much needed end. I am hopeful that all of us at least share the same sentiment that these child molesters need to be stopped.”

She swirled her finger in the air, and the man closest to the door nodded before she spoke again, “This is off the record, but I would love to be the one who kills these sick fuckers, but as you can imagine it’s frowned upon for someone in my position to do so.” She repeated the motion, the man nodded again, and she continued, “This is where you all come into play, once you have disposed of each of the perpetrators and justice has been served, your records will be expunged. These indiscretions will be erased from your history as well.”

Spider’s eyes roamed each of our brothers and arrived on me last. “After this, we won’t hear from you all again, isn’t that correct, Agent McFaye?”

“Yes, you all are free to go on with your lives. It goes without saying, but I’m required to say it regardless, this doesn’t give you immunity for the rest of your days. Nor does this mean you can contact us if you find yourselves in trouble again.” Just as Wily opened his mouth, she silently held her hand up without hesitation or any hint that she was intimidated by any of us. “However, this goes both ways, we will not expect you to be constantly looking over your shoulders, waiting for us to contact you again. We won’t. Trust me when I say this was literally the last limb on the proverbial tree. There are very important people wound tightly in the middle of this, and we would like to diffuse this as quietly and as quickly as possible.”

She opened one of the manila folders in front of her and removed photos. My eyes widened, and the urge to vomit was undeniable. My hand smacked over my mouth, and I dry heaved at the horrific scene she was unveiling in front of us, remaining unfazed as if what she was explaining was the weather and not how children were violated then killed. I lost count of how many photographs and case files she went over with us before I closed my eyes and blocked her out, thinking of the night I’d spent with Ginger.

I hadn’t seen her for a little over a month, so there was no reason to think about her. There were no intentions in my head to hook up with someone the day I was released, but I had no regrets. She and I hadn’t exchanged numbers or made empty promises, yet I often found myself thinking of her. She didn’t look at me like most women who hung around the clubhouse did. I’d had my share of patch chasers before I was locked up, and they all stared at me like I was a trophy. Not that I minded because usually fucking was fucking.

Ginger watched me in marvel as if she was trying to decide what to do with me. I understood the expression all too well since I often did things to see how the havoc unraveled. Cause and effect of everything I did were maddening, but I loved it. It was the exact feeling I felt in my head about myself.

I never knew from one minute to the next how I would react to things anymore. This moment was a prime example. It was too heavy of a subject for me to stay active in the conversation or even pay any attention at all. Me. The man who killed people without the faintest reluctance. I had never killed a kid and never would. I couldn’t take any more of this fucked up shit. Surely, they could give us the details without all of this.

“We get the idea,” I snapped, slamming my opened palm on the table, making it rattle. “Can we just sign the shit and get this over with? I am sure I speak for all of us when I say we have seen enough to get the idea of the sick fucks we are going after. And,” I continued, a fury of anger rushing through me, “we are not the same type of people as the people responsible for what you are showing us. Remember that, Agent McFucker, or whatever in the hell your name is.”

“McFaye,” she corrected me and ran her hand up the back of her neck and into her hair and squirmed in her seat. It was only a small waver of confidence on her part, but I saw it. I was certain the other guys had, too. We four were excellent at reading people and what they refused to say. Typically, fear was the biggest factor when it came to people hiding their true thoughts on a matter. It was then you had to rely on a person’s body language, and hers was saying I made her uncomfortable.

“Do we have a deal?” I probed in a stern voice. “Just show us the spineless fucks we are taking care of and give us the important information about them, not their victims. Okay?”

“Okay.” She cleared her throat and gathered the photos splayed all over the table.

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