Page 83 of Bound by Wreckage
Deke pulls out flash drives and SD cards. I hand them off to go back with us to Ravage.
“Did you find anything on the computer?” I ask Green as he takes the flashes.
“Nope.”
“It’s probably all here then.”
“That’d be my guess.”
The task is big, and I find myself flipping through the pages and not actually reading. I’m allfor vengeance and justice, but in reading these books, that wasn’t Big Jim’s MO. He took whomever he wanted, whenever he wanted. One reads of a woman coming out of a bar drunk. Another is a man who comes out of a bathroom stall. Each book is the tale of how he found each of his victims and how he killed each one, the manner in which he did and how they tasted. Yes—fucking tasted.
There’sat least a hundred books, and I’m guessing one goes with each one of the tubs. Fucking hell.
“We’ve gotta get these back where they were. Don’t like the fuckin’ cops, but they gotta deal with this shit. I bet their families are fit to be tied they can’t find their people.” It sucks to say, but it’s true. If someone I love was killed this way, I’d want to know. Even if it’s disgusting andan image they won’t be able to get out of their heads.
At least they’ll be able to lay their loved ones to rest.
“Yeah. Agree,” Green and Jacks respond.
“Who the fuck puts a safe in a safe?” Deke calls out from inside the first safe where he’s kneeling down. “It’s not electronic so we may be able to hack it.” Deke pulls out the small safe. It’s heavy from the strain in hisarms, but it is portable. He sets it on the large table and begins fucking with it.
“Just blow it up,” Jacks says.
Green chuckles. “Yeah and burn up everything inside. No.”
I head back into the safe and continue the search through the little boxes. Surprisingly many of them are empty and by the time I’m done, Deke still doesn’t have the box open and Green is working on it.
“Brother, it’s been about an hour,” Jacks says, referring to the fucking foot that fell out of the fridge.
“Fuck,” I groan and move over to the appendage. As fast as I can, I pick it up, open the ice box and toss it in, slamming the door shut.
“This asshole is fuckin’ nuts,” Deke growls, tinkering with the box while I go back to the safe double checking. There’s a side doorand opening it shows guns, but nothing else. Fuck, we’re running out of shit to look through. And fuck no, I’m not opening those tubs.
“Got it!” Deke calls out as the top flies open. We all move around it and it’s full of papers and pictures. Green takes one for the team, reaches in and pulls out a stack full and putting them on the table, hoping like hell he doesn’t pull out another bodypart.
We begin sifting through them.
“Fuck me,” I breathe, stunned and shocked. Holding up the picture to the guys, they look over. “Big Jim and Torrance.”
The picture has the two next to each other laughing at something behind the camera, but there it is plain as day, and it’s recent judging by how Big Jim’s looks today.
More pictures. Big Jim with Torrance and Buck.Ones of them at Buck’s place, and others from somewhere I don’t recognize.
That sonvuabitch was working with Torrance and feeding me a line of shit that he didn’t know what was going on. They’ve been working together right under our noses.
Papers rustle. “Wire transfers from Torrance to an off-shore account with Jim Shalding on it. Seven hundred and fifty thousand dollars.”
“So Torrance put a hit on one of us. Fuck.”
I keep digging, as do my brothers. There are other transfers linking Buck, Big Jim, and Torrance, but there still isn’t a direct connection to any of them wanting to take out the Ravage MC.
“Fuck me,” Deke says, his fist clenching the paper. “Papers for a Pontiac Bonneville. The exact fuckin’ car that hit Dagger and Mearna.”
“Shit,”is growled through the room.
“The dates,” Green says. “Look at the fuckin’ dates. The purchase of this car and this wire transfer. Two days apart and three weeks before we.” Green looks to me. “We went to visit Buck. This shit was planned out.”
The attack on Ravage was planned before I even went to the Rangers for information. Therefore, before I’d ever seen Carsyn, making this playnot mine or Carsyn’s fault. We weren’t the cause because, the hit was already in place. We were just in the wrong place at the right time. Fuck. I want to feel relief, but all I feel is anger.
Those assholes will pay. That entire club will pay.
Hell have no fury like a Ravage scorned.
