Page 141 of Relentles
“Get on the motherfuckin’ table,” Dad ordered, nodding from Brett to the autopsy table.
Instead of complying, he screamed at the top of his lungs. “HELP!I’m an innocent man who’s about to be murdered!”
“I’m countin’ to three.” Dad raised his .9mm and pressed it between Brett’s eyes. “I got my fuckin’ hollows. One.”
“Help,” Brett yelled again.
“Two.”
“I’m sorry! I’m sorry!”
“You want to torture him, Christopher,” Uncle Johnnie breathed, his eyes glazed. “If you shoot him, it’ll be over. He’ll just be dead.”
Rory’s eyes gleamed.
As cold as he had been before, CJ felt hot and nauseated. Either alarm or adrenaline. He’d seen his father furious. That day at the Scorched Devil’s clubhouse, for instance. But he’d never seen him as this—a killer unbothered by anything except the end goal. Death.
Brett stumbled to the table and laid on it, naked, shot and finally realizing he wouldn’t live. He was crying.
“That’s a good motherfucker,” Uncle Val crooned, garnering snickers from everyone except CJ, Rule, and Ryan.
Ryan was so pale, it was easy to believe he’d fainted that awful day in Molly’s house. Rule clutched his bible to his chest, taking it all in.
Uncle Mort strapped Brett to the table. CJ hadn’t realized it was equipped with tethers.
.9mm still in hand, Dad accepted a lit cigarette from Uncle Digger.
“I ain’t one for fuckin’ torture,” Dad said casually, pacing around the table and studying Brett from all angles. “And I definitely ain’t one for long soliloquies filled with bullshit when I know I’m fuckin’ you up anyway. Youknowwhat the fuck you did.”
He halted and shot Brett in the knee.
“Is it the flowers? I’m sorry! Rebel told me Meggie liked them.”
Dad stopped and bared his teeth in a look so chilling Ryan trembled and Rule’s eyes widened.
“You innocent, remember?” Uncle Digger called in bored tones.
“Innocent isn’t talking to my underage niece.” Uncle Johnnie swept Brett with a once over. “Or sending flowers to my sister-in-law.”
He looked at Dad, who nodded. Uncle Mort handed Uncle Johnnie a pair of gloves and a rubber apron. Once he had them on, he accepted a roll from Uncle Mort. Humming happily, he unrolled what turned out to be knives, ice picks, pliers with various types of jaws, and things CJ had never seen.
Bent-nosed plier in hand, Uncle Johnnie studied Brett’s hand. “Pity your arm is restrained. My job would be easier if I could lift your hand.” He got the same stool Ryan had sat on and dragged it to Brett’s side.
“Wait.”
Dad’s reprieve allowed CJ to catch his breath and prepare to see a man’s fingernails ripped from their beds.
Long moments of silence passed. Dad finished his cigarette. With each tick of the clock, Brett’s trembles increased.
“Going into shock already,” Uncle Val said with disapproval.
Ryan’s gaze flew to his father’s back, a combination of shock and respect…? Appreciation…? Whatever it was, Uncle Val wasn’t facing his son, so he couldn’t see.
“Prez, you been studying torture methods?” Uncle Mort asked, earning more laughter.
Rory was right in with them.
“My first fuckin’ time in the meatshack was when I was locked in with the dead body of my friend. If I wanted the fuck out, I had to dismember him. Ain’t had a fuckin’ choice.” Dad met CJ’s gaze. “You do, boy. If you ain’t ready to be in here, leave. I won’t look at you no different.”
