Page 20 of Lost Soul

“Nice try darlin’, but I haven’t got a death wish. I’ll get Tommy to give you a ride.”

“What happened to your hand?” I ask looking closer at his knuckles.

“Oh this,” he looked down at them casually. “Just a scuffle, nothin’ for you to worry about.”

“Is Jessie okay?” I check because I get the feeling that shit has gone down and if I’m right, I can guarantee he’d have been right in the middle of it.

“Oh yeah, Jessie’s just fine,” Troj nods his head, the grin on his lips suggesting there’s a lot more in his answer.

I may come across as cool on the outside, but inside my blood is lava. Adrenaline is thumping too fast through my veins, like they might erupt under pressure.

Sat in the chair in front of me, arms tied behind his back, is the latest cunt stupid enough to fuck with our club. The guy may have a couple inches height on me, but that wasn’t about to make shit all difference, not down here.

The basements that run beneath the club are soundproofed for good reason, reasons this fuckwit was about to find out for himself. We never ask Grimm to clean up down here. A prospect and a hosepipe do a decent enough job. I think it’s a nice touch for our guests to see what’s on the itinerary for their visit. Gives them something to think about while they wait for me to decide how I’m gonna fuck ‘em up.

This guy is a stranger to us. None of us recall seeing him around before, but he wears a patch that we know well. Whether he’s a new member or from one of their other Charters he’s still one of them, and he’d been one of the three who tried breaking into our warehouse last night. That makes him our enemy. And down here enemies don’t do so well.

The Bastards must have thought they got away with it, right up until a group of us stormed into one of their hangouts along route 24.

We could have taken any one of them, there were four of them sitting at the bar, but this asshole in front of me is the fucker who had shot at Thorne.

Thorne turned up to check on the warehouse last night when our watchman hadn’t checked in. He caught the Bastards clearing us out and got shot by this piece of shit in the process. So this was the Bastard that we all decided was gonna turn rat, and I’m the one who gets to make him squeak.

“You wanna tell me your name?” I ask him, staying calm. He shakes his head, and that’s fine by me, I don’t need to know. He’ll have a new name by the time I’m done with him. One that he definitely won’t want anyone to know.

“Last night, you and your brothers decided you’d clean out our warehouse,” I remind him, and the cocky shit smiles back at me like we’re about to sit down to a fuckin’ pot roast together.

If he thinks that kinda shit is gonna get to me, he’s wrong.

Sitting down in the chair opposite him, I lean forward and rest my elbows on my knees.

“What I need to know, is how you knew where to find it?” I ask him, watching his lips pick up and spread into a laugh. His mouth is still full of blood, a few teeth short due to his introduction to Troj back at the bar.

We could have let him finish the job there and then, but we need information, and the way Troj takes care of shit leaves no time for talking.

Me? I have all the time and patience in the world. So, this fucker can laugh back at me all he wants.

I grin back at him, his optimism is as endearing as it is amusing. It even gives me an idea to use later. We’ll see who’s laughing after our first session.

Turns out one session was all I needed to make the rat squeak. Twenty minutes of waterboarding is all the fucking pussy could handle before he talked, and although what he had to say wasn’t exactly useful in solving the bigger problem, I now know where our stash is being kept.

He splutters and chokes as I pour water over the soaked cloth, and I watch the fabric suck between his mouth and nostrils, finding amusement in his desperate gasps for air. It isn’t quite as satisfying as slicing open his stomach and letting his intestines hang loose would be, but I always like to start off slow. It makes the build-up to the more extensive treatments more intense. And I admit to being a little gutted that he’s given up so quickly.

Turns out the Bastards sent him and two others to get the last of our gun supplies, they somehow knew we were low and that we hadn’t made any deals lately. He swore he had no clue how they knew, and I believed him. I’ve always been able to tell a lie from the truth. Another quality that makes me good at this shit. I do, however, find out where they are keeping the guns they got away with, and I have a hunch that if we move fast enough, we’ll get them back. Maybe even score some of the Bastards’ supplies in the process.

“You know I’ve tortured weedy little addicts who lasted longer than you.” I laugh at him before slamming my elbow into his face.

“I’ve told you all I know. Now fuckin’ let me go,” he chokes, drawing the last of his strength.

“I’ll be back.” I crouch over him. “We still gotta talk about what you did to my friend.”

Walking out the door I slam it behind me, pull my cut back on to my shoulders, and make my way upstairs to the club. It doesn’t take me long to find Prez, he’s drinking in the lounge bar with Chop and Skid.

“Fast work, blowtorch?” Prez asks clearly impressed at my timing.

“Nah he was much more of a water sports guy.” I pull out a stool and look up for Tommy to pour me a shot of something strong.

“So, what’s he saying?” Chop asks, tossing me a cigarette. I catch it, grab a lighter from my back pocket and light it up, taking a long drag before I answer.

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