Page 170 of Beautifully Reckless

“You really gonna make it slow?” JD asks, glancing my way. “I thought you’d be antsy to get back to Abbey.”

Fuck.

He’s right. I am.

“Maybe notthatslow. It’s taken long enough to get our hands on this fucker.” I jut my thumb towards the back of the van. “I’ll see how it pans out, I guess.”

After Tim Beck went mysteriously missing from his bungalow a month ago, our other targets went into hiding.

Daniel and Donny are still in the city, and word is that Donny’s uncle Ian is watching over them with a fucking security team. Darnel hasn’t changed his routine up in Darwin, probably thinking he’s safe all the way up there.

Idiot.

And Michael Berry and Craig McRoe have been hunkering down here in town.

Craig is the hardest to get to. He comes from a big family. Lots of younger siblings, and he’s been playing sick for weeks so his parents don’t force him to go anywhere.

Unfortunately there are always some of his younger siblings around, so getting to him has been put on hold until we can smoke him out.

As much as my Angel wants these fuckers dead, I know she’d never want innocent bystanders to get hurt.

Michael on the otherhand, is now in the back of the van, and as we pull off the main road and up the driveway of our compound, my fucking heart starts to race with anticipation.

Vengeance.

It’s going to be fucking sweet.

Parking next to the shipping container that now sits above the dungeon, Murf and Trunk hurry to the back and drag a kicking and screaming Michael out of the van. A hood is over his head so he can’t see, and his hands are bound behind his back so he can’t fucking swing punches.

JD and I follow our club brothers down to the dungeon, where Stocky holds the door open, the stench of shit, piss and vomit assaulting us instantly.

Tim’s eyes widen from where he’s huddled in the corner, his body frail, some bones freshly broken, while others are a little twisted, healing wrong from breaking weeks ago.

It’s not just his bones that are broken. We’ve well and truly shattered whatever grip he had on reality. He’s basically our puppet now. Does what we say, no matter how fucked up or painful it is.

But this? What’s about to happen, will really test how far gone he is.

“String him up,” JD tells Murf, and Trunk steps in to help string Michael Berry up by his wrists until his feet leave the floor.

“Stop. Please. Don’t hurt me,” he cries, his voice cracking with fear as he hangs before us.

I fucking laugh as Murf cuts the hood off him, and Michael blinks past his tears until he can see properly.

“I love this part.” Stocky snickers from beside me as Michael takes in the room and fear flashes across his face.

This is the moment he realises he’s well and truly fucked.

“Please, don’t do this,” Michael begs JD, recognition written across his expression.

He knows who we are. He knew we were coming for him.

Stepping forward, I catch Michael’s attention, his fearful sobs directed to me.

“Do you want money? I can get you so much. How about the other guys? I can give you their locations. It was all Donny’s idea!”

“You’re a fucking coward, Michael,” I sneer, curling my lip in disgust. “But that’s okay. I didn’t expect anything else from a piece of shit like you.” I step close, smelling fresh piss oozing from him. “Did you piss yourself, Michael?”

He whimpers.

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