Page 42 of Pedal to the Metal
Chapter Twenty-Seven
Raze
Rascal,Saint, and I arrive at the barn about an hour and a half later. We’re the only ones here so far. I sent out a group text to the brothers that didn’t come with to let them know where we would be in case any of them wanted in on the torturing.
I know Tech will stay at the clubhouse and on standby so he can run any names we get through the systems he has on his computer. He’s already looking into our new toys, Dragon and Tiny. Twenty minutes go by and I hear the sound of multiple bikes coming our way. I look toward the road and see four motorcycles and the cage. They’re here.
Once they park, Saint is at the back of the van, opening the doors. Chains has the two guys in the back of the cage tied up with, you guessed it, chains. I shake my head with a grin. This kid finds a way to use chains for everything.
The guys are still knocked out when Saint and I drag them out of the van by their feet. As soon as their heads hit the ground, they both start groaning, like they’re coming to. We drag them into the barn where we hang them on some hooks by the chains binding their wrists, then walk back outside.
The plan is to let them wake up and stew a little before we go in and get to work. We end up standing around for an hour before we hear the chains rattling in the barn.
“Our new punching bags are awake.” Excitement laces Ratchet’s voice.
“Let’s go have some fun, fellas.” Thor rubs his hands together menacingly and heads into the barn. Ratchet grabs a bag of torturing tools out of his saddlebag before heading in. The rest of us follow them.
Ratchet rolls out his bag on a nearby table and picks up one of the skinning knives. He goes up to the two men and one at a time, cuts their shirts off. Thor is at the table, looking over his options.
There are some hunting knives, like a caping knife, a boning knife, a gut-hook skinner, a bowie-style butcher knife, and a machete. There are multiples of each one, as Ratchet has them all in different sizes too. He finally settles on the eight-inch butcher knife and walks to stand by Ratchet.
“Who are you working for?” Ratchet asks the men. As expected, neither one budge. “Check their tats,” he orders us.
Saint and I move to them. Neither of them have tats on their chests or stomachs. I go around to one guy’s back, take my knife out and cut down the back of his shirt.
“Bingo.” There, on his whole back, is the Iron Lords insignia. “Iron Lords bastards.”
Above his MC’s insignia is his road name. Dragon. The other guy must be Tiny.
“Mother fucker,” Ratchet bites out, then walks out of the barn. My guess is to call Prez. When he comes back in, his expression is blank.
“We need to wait for Ranger to get here. It could be a while, so get cozy,” Ratchet tells us. Ranger, our VP, is probably with his Ol’ Lady, which is the only reason it would take him longer to get here since they live a little further away. We all settle down to wait.
Every once in a while, one of the Iron Lords lets out a groan. Their arms are probably burning right now. They’ve been hanging there for a while. After an hour, we all start getting a little anxious. We’re all ready to beat some information out of these fucks.
Saint starts pacing, Rascal is practicing throwing punches, and I’m plotting ways we can torture information out of these guys. It’s another thirty minutes before Ranger shows up. Now we can really get this party started.
Ratchet and Thor take their positions in front of our Dragon and Tiny, while Saint and I stand close by. Everyone else is close by to watch, except for Ranger. He’s standing where he can see and hear what’s going on, but isn’t too close to the action. He’s here mostly to hear the information we get out of them so he can be the one to relay everything to Prez. Thor walks up to Tiny and punches him in the gut.
“Oomph,” Tiny gasps out. Thor gets right in his face.
“What the fuck were you assholes doing snooping around our warehouse?” he spits out. Tiny spits in Thor’s face. “Wrong move, asshole.” Thor punches him in the nose and blood spurts everywhere. His head falls and his chin hits his chest, blood flowing out of his nose, over his mouth and down his chest.
“Fuck you! We ain’t tellin’ y’all shit!” Dragon yells out.
“That’s fine. Don’t talk. We’ll just have some fun carvin’ y’all up,” Ratchet responds in an eerily calm voice. He lifts his knife up, twirling it around slowly like he’s inspecting it. Even from a distance you can tell it’s sharp as fuck.
I bet it’ll slice his skin pretty easily. Ratchet gets closer to him and slides his knife down Dragon’s chest, making about a three-inch cut. It’s a shallow, but still bleeds. Dragon squeezes his eyes shut. Ratchet keeps going, making cuts all over his chest and abs. He starts clenching his teeth, not wanting to yell out.
This goes on for hours. We all take turns beating on Tiny, then take to carving him up. He eventually passes out from all of the pain, hanging onto his life by a fucking thread. He’ll be meeting the boatman and Hades soon enough. On the other hand, his buddy Dragon has a lot more fight in him. He’s weak, but at least he’s still conscious.
It’s coming up on midnight and we’ve all taken a step back from torturing him. We’re planning out our next move when Dragon starts laughing maniacally. We all turn to look at him.
“You won’t be able to stop us,” he hisses out. “He’s coming for her, and he’ll stop at nothing until she’s back where she belongs.”
“And who the fuck is she?” Ratchet asks, walking closer to the guy, but still keeping his distance. The dip-shit chained up looks me right in the eyes and gives a malicious grin.
“You piece of shit!” I’m about to charge at him but I’m held back. Rascal and Saint are on either side of me, holding me back. I want to rip this fucker limb from limb.
