Page 10 of Knuckles

“Fucker.” I couldn’t help the smile as I tucked my phone in my pocket, checked my knife, then tucked it in the waistband of my pants. I’d prefer my gun, but being an ex-con makes carrying one not the best option. Next was my throat mike and earpiece. Both tested out OK with Knight, so I headed out to my bike. No need to hurry. I knew where Hannah was going, and I’d know if she got into trouble and needed help.

The ride to the little house in the suburbs was uneventful. I took my time, enjoying the ride. Knight had already tapped into the guy’s security camera in case things went sideways before we got there.

“Man, I can’t wait for you to see this shit.” Knight’s muttered comment came from my earpiece.

“She good?”

“Oh, yeah. She’s good, all right. Ain’t gonna be much left of her boy there when she gets done.”

There was something itching between my shoulder blades. Something telling me I better get my ass in gear and get to Hannah. One thing I’d learned in prison was to trust my instincts. If something seemed off, it was.

I gave the bike more gas, speeding up and weaving my way through traffic until I pulled up at the sprawling McMansion inside a gaited property. Chains pulled up at the same time I did and was off his bike in quick, efficient movements. The gate had a keypad, and Chains had some kind of gadget he used on it. I had no idea what. Didn’t fucking care. I wanted inside this property. Now.

Seconds later, the gate swung open and I rolled through, not caring if my bike made noise. No one was around to hear anyway. There were no close neighbors. Knight had confirmed no one was in the house but Dillon and Hannah.

“Uh, guys, you might want to, uh… she’s gonna kill him. Like right now.”

Yeah. I thought so.

Strangely, I expected panic would hit me when it came to the physical confrontation I knew was gonna happen when Hannah got there. I had no idea exactly what was going on in her head, or what her end game was, but I was willing to let her beat on a few dipshit assholes beating up on people weaker than them. Or, at least, people smaller. And there was no doubt in my mind she could take care of herself.

Unlike Gunnar, Hannah was small. Delicate even. Until you got a good look at her. She was covered in a layer of fine muscle. I got a look at her midriff when she had on that tank top and would move a certain way. Her abs were ripped better than most men I knew. Her arms were finely muscled, so you wouldn’t guess the strength in them. I saw how they stood out when we fought briefly. Also, the way she sat on my lap, the way she stood up to me and never flinched back from a fight and didn’t hesitate to make her stand? Yeah. Hannah wasn’t a woman who’d been beaten down by an abuser. If anything, she was ready for an abuser to fuck with her. Wanting it, even.

Which was how I ended up whistling a tune as I rode down the road even if I did crank the throttle a bit to pick up the pace. I was certain down to my bones Hannah could take care of herself, had probably even planned this very scenario with that fucker. Didn’t change the fact I still need to be by her side. To be honest, I was really fucking looking forward to seeing the carnage she was unleashing at this very moment.

I pulled around to the back of the house. The attached garage was open so I pulled inside, making myself at home. Chains and Hawk followed me. We weren’t quiet either. Hawk even revved his big Hog a couple times before shutting it down.

The silence after the constant rumble was deafening. There was nothing. Nothing at all.

“You think Knight was wrong? Maybe she snuck out with dickwad in tow without Knight pickin’ up on it.” Hawk scrubbed the back of his neck as he looked around the garage, which had one car in the three bays. The rest was spotlessly clean, with none of the suburban garage-y things inside or outside. No garden hoses. No lawn mower or weed whacker. The floor was a gleaming black-and-white check. The silence was almost eerie.

“I didn’t get it wrong.” Knight’s voice came through my earpiece. “Second floor. There’s a room on the southwest corner. That’s where she’s got him. Thankfully, she had the foresight to put down plastic on the carpet.” There was a pause. “And the walls. I’m not sure, but there might be some plastic taped to the ceiling too.”

“Jesus.” Chains chuckled. “She’s serious about this, huh?”

“Yep.” Hawk opened the door to the back of the garage leading into the house. “Let’s go see what she’s up to. If we need to call in someone to clean up, I’d like to get it done sooner rather than later. Replacing ceiling stucco might take a while.” We all snorted. My brothers took everything in stride. No one questioned if we were going to cover for Hannah from whatever we were getting ready to find upstairs. Didn’t matter that Hannah wasn’t part of our club officially. She was Gunnar’s sister, so they just assumed the club would take care of it and made plans accordingly. Torpedo and Bohannon would both be proud.

I had to stop myself from rolling my eyes at the thought of the two of them approving anything I did or didn’t do. Kiss of Death wasmyclub. They were just keeping an eye on it until I was ready to take over again.

“Does Gunnar know we’re here and what’s goin’ on?” Chains moved in front of me, leading the way up the stairs. The laundry room just inside the house off the garage was empty and almost sterile in its cleanliness. The kitchen we went through to get to the main stairs was the same. Not a dish in the sink. Spotless counter tops with nothing sitting on them except one large vase of fresh flowers. The room was dimly lit with the only light being on the baseboards lining the hall. Safety lights.

There were a few small tables with more fresh flowers. Enough that the hallway reminded me of the way a funeral home smelled. There wasn’t a speck of dust, cobwebs, clutter, or anything to suggest anyone actually lived in the place. From what I could tell, the whole fucking place was unnaturally tidy. There was nothing out of place anywhere I saw on the way through the house to the upstairs.

The closer we got to our destination, the more I could hear voices, one of them Hannah’s. She had someone with her in the room Knight indicated, but I couldn’t tell if it was a man or a woman. The sounds were pretty high-pitched. Could go either way.

I opened the door and Chains went ahead of me into the room. I followed, and Hawk brought up the rear. In the far corner of the room, the man I’d seen hit Hannah sat on a tall, white stool, his feet braced on the middle rung with his knees apart. Oddly, he was dressed in an expensive-looking suit but no socks or shoes. The whole corner was covered top to bottom in thick black plastic. Around the stool were what looked like thousands of roofing tacks covering nearly every inch of the plastic on the floor. There were also several large pieces of broken pottery scattered around the stool like they’d been dropped or thrown.

Dillon sat on that stool holding a… flower vase above his head? Like the one on the kitchen counter. And the ones on several small tables throughout the house. I stared at those flowers. Unless I was mistaken, every vase I’d seen had flowers arranged exactly the same. I’d done every mental exercise I could find in any book on psychology and improving your brain activity and all the shit in the prison library. I’d encouraged Gunnar to do the same. Both of us had practiced and practiced until we basically taught ourselves to have close to photographic memories. So, I was ninety-nine percent certain.

“Now, now, baby boy.” Hannah’s voice was deceptively sweet. Saccharine sweet. “No one is making you stay like this. All you have to do is get off the stool and walk away.”

“You put roofing tacks everywhere, fucking bitch!” Anger bloomed over Dillon’s face and he threw the vase against the nearest wall. The second he let the vase go, there was a harshZAP! and a shrill shriek erupted from his throat. “Give me another vase! Give me another vase!”

Hannah gave a sigh, like she was terribly sorry… for him. “You really should have thought your actions through, Dillon. I’ve already proven the pad is pressure sensitive up to three pounds.” She shook her head sadly. “I’ll have to go find another vase. I don’t have any more in this room. Exactly two vases of fresh cut flowers per room, unless it’s one of the suites like this one. Suites get three vases of fresh cut flowers. Remember, Dillon? You just broke the third vase.” She sighed again, her shoulders slumping. “I don’t want to break up the set in the hallway. That would make everything terribly mismatched. Like the time when you hitherover the head with the one on the left at the end of the hallway. She had to put Legos in her shoes while she walked to the flower store to get more, then walked home. No. I learned the lessons Carol paid for pretty well --” She was cut off with anotherZAP! and a shrill scream from Dillon.

“Hannah! Please! Get me another vase! I don’t care from where! Please!” Dillon was frantic now. He stood on the stool rungs but was too awkward to hold the position no matter which bar he put his foot on.

“I can’t break up the set, Dillon.” She gave him a look of sympathy so sincere I swear she actually felt sorry for the guy. “You taught me and Carol the importance of appearances. The hallway is too public an area. This house might be our private residence, but you never know when there will be guests who’ll need to come down the hallway.”

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