Page 58 of Zen's Crash

“Thanks,” I tell him, and practically run over to them.

Chapter 23

Zen

We’re gathered on a ridgeline overlooking the hunting lodge, and there’s a vehicle parked outside. We just got off a call with Lexi, where she dropped a bombshell or two. I let her words roll around in my head for a second.

But Rigs is already processing the information faster than I am and he verifies what we’re all thinking. “Lexi’s right. The main serial killer is Terrance’s father. Terrance couldn’t have killed anyone when Lexi was a child because he would have only been a kid himself. So, at least some of the earlier murders were done by his father.”

I jump into the conversation with both feet. “That doesn’t mean this little shit we’re about to bust in on hasn’t joined in on the more recent murders. You know, like father, like son. They could be a fucking tag team.”

Siege adds, “There’s also the possibility that the son wanted to join in but could never work up the nerve, so he settled for his slick little comic-book obsession instead.”

“Well, we won’t know until we get the jump on this fucker and beat some intel outta him,” Tank interjects with his fists balled up.

We take a long, hard look down at the lodge before surging forward and scrambling down the ridgeline. There’s a narrow trail to the right, and we take it, careful to watch our footing. When we hit the bottom, we fan out into our prearrangedpositions and press our surprise advantage. I’m with Rigs at the back door, and Siege is gonna kick in the front door with Tank and Dutch at his back.

To our surprise, we don’t find anyone in the roughly thrown-together building. We move from room to room twice, pulling open closets, cabinets, and any other potential hiding places big enough to fit a body. I even check the chest freezer. On the way out, we hear a cell phone ring from under our feet. Our faces light up like it’s Christmas morning, ‘cause our guy is definitely here.

Siege motions to the floor around us. “Look for a trapdoor to a basement or crawl space.” We spread out and look. I tap my foot on the wooden flooring until I hear a hollow sound. Several of us squat down and begin tapping floorboards. That’s when we discover there is no basement, only a hiding place between the floor joists. When we pull the floorboards away, Terrance is still fumbling with his phone, apparently trying to turn it off. I reach down and yank the fucker up so fast he doesn’t have time to respond. He’s got muscles and tries his best to fight me the minute he’s on his feet.

“Get off me, asshole!” he screams as he flails his arms wildly.

I land a punch right in his face, and he staggers backward. The next thing I know, he has a knife in his left hand and is making wide slashing motions, one of which catches me in the shoulder. I feel warm blood dripping down my arm, but I come at him again. My club brothers would take him down if I stopped fighting right now, but I refuse to let fighting for my woman fall to them. No, it’s a matter of honor to fight for her, so I don’t stop.

Finally, I snatch up his laptop from his hiding place and flatten his face with it. That does it, and he realizes he’s on a highway to nowhere if he continues. “Alright, enough already. It ain’t what you think anyway,” he stammers.

My club brothers shove him facedown onto the floor, where Dutch assists in zip-tying his hands behind his back.

Terrance tries to talk his way out of the situation. “Shit, we got off on the wrong foot. It doesn’t have to be this way. I’ll cooperate.”

In this moment, it occurs to me that men who stalk and kill women are vicious little fuckers who don’t give a damn about anyone but themselves. Self-interest is what substitutes for morals.

I tell him, “Too late for us to be friends. The time for that was before you started stalking my old lady.”

“I wasn’t stalking her. I was trying to get close to her in order to protect her.”

I pull out my gun and jam it under his chin, making sure he knows I’m serious. “You must think that because we’re bikers, we’re complete idiots.”

“I don’t think that. I just don’t think you understand the magnitude of the situation. There’s more at stake here than you realize.”

“You’ve got two minutes to explain it, then. Don’t waste your time bullshitting, either.”

Trying to be mysterious, he says, “There are some things I can’t tell you, and it’ll take more than two minutes to make you understand.”

“Fine. I’ll start. We have your old man in custody. He’s a serial killer from way back. He’s Lexi’s father’s fucked-up, vicious twin. We found the photos of Lexi you left for us at your old place and the comic books you made of her. What you might not know is your mom gave us all your old shit, and we discovered those warped comics are apparently a twisted lifelong passion for you. There’s lots we don’t know. However, we plan to take turns beating all the information out of you and your old man. I’m gonna get to the bottom of this, so you might as well spill the beans.”

“Goddamn, you guys are persistent.”

“I’ll take that as a fucking compliment.”

“Look, I’m not into the shit my old man is. I like to have my fun, but I’d never do anything to actually hurt a woman.”

“Lies. You tried to lure Lexi away so he could grab her earlier today. It didn’t work, so he tried to get her from the clubhouse, which is how we caught him. You might as well close your mouth until you’re willing to tell the truth, ‘cause I’m getting fucking tired of all your bullshitting.”

I hold up his laptop and tell him, “I’m pretty damn sure I’ll get most of the information I need by hacking your laptop.”

He smirks at me, bleeding from the corner of his mouth. “Good luck with that. You couldn’t even find the two-way communication program I installed on Lexi’s computer.”

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