This is about payback and with the shit he just mentioned? This part is sweeter than ever because I have my full focus on those who are responsible for the loss my MC suffered. Bringing the saw down on his wrist, I watch the blood spray, flesh ravel and ultimately his hand splash onto the floor.
Brodie is right there when I pull back. The stench of burning flesh fills our noses. The blow torch wouldn’t be enough by itself to cauterize the wound, but the chop and burn is a nice combination for sure.
The fucker has stopped screaming and is passed out cold. Stepping back, I mutter a few curses. I want the fucker wide awake when I remove other parts otherwise it’s no fun to carve him up.
“Heads up, Prez,” Fraser quips from behind us.
I step aside and so does Brodie. Fraser holds a bucket and throws the contents at Leith, splashing his face and upper body with cold water. The fucker gasps and wildly shakes in an effort to come to his senses.
“There you are,” I praise. “Awake in time for the next one.”
I flip the saw on and there’s terror back in his eyes. At least this motherfucker sees it coming and is tainted with the blame of what happened. My father and my club brothers were fucking murdered without realizing what was happening.
Sawing off his other hand, I feel Brodie move in with the torch. It would be nice to cauterize the wound but that would require physical contact with a highly conductive high-temperature material, to make sure the fucker won’t bleed out. But I’m so fucking angry, in this moment I don’t care about prolonging shit or making him suffer; there’s only rage.
Letting the saw eat away the flesh on his arm, I move the fucking thing across his chest, feeling the bones snap as I carve his body to pieces and finally go up to saw off his head–by lazily walking around the body–for my own personal satisfaction. A huge grin is on my face when I gently place the saw on the floor and glance down at the heap of crimson, flesh, and pile of bones of what once was Leith.
“Remind me never to piss you off,” Fraser mutters. “Damn.”
“Yeah,” Brodie grunts. “I thought the sawing off a hand here and a foot there was kind of fucked up but in a neat way…but this? I would say you have issues, brother. Though, I’m also a bit in awe. So, I’m just gonna say–” He smacks my back three times. “Nice work, Prez.”
“You gonna do the bodyguard the same way?” Glenn questions from the entrance of the container. “Because it’s like throwing bodies into the blender and it makes cleanup messy but getting rid of the bodies easier, you know?”
Brodie’s head tips back and he barks out a laugh. “That’s why I went with ‘nice work, Prez’ this time.”
“Fuckers,” I mumble. “You can handle the other asshole. I need a damn shower and then I’m heading back to the clubhouse. Church bright and early because I want to forge a plan to take out each and every one connected to the Bane’s. Understood?”
“Yes, Prez,” they all mutter and I stalk out of the container and head for the changing room.
There’s a large shower we’ve installed along with a cabinet filled with spare clothes to change into. When I’ve cleaned myself up and changed into a fresh set of clothes, I grab the bag with my bloody ones and head out back where Brodie is already burning his clothes.
Throwing the bag into the firepit, I release a deep sigh and wonder what the fuck I’m supposed to do next. I called church in the morning for a reason; what comes next needs to be a club decision. Retaliation will happen only where we first thought we were dealing with McVay, we’re now dealing with some other fucked-up shit.
And Leith might think we can’t go up against two mafia families but the asshole forgot one thing. We don’t consist of just one brotherhood. We are many charters located in different states all over the country; all over the fucking world for that matter. Together we can handle anyone who so much as thinks of going up against us.
My main focus now is getting my hands on Rory Mickle, because if what Leith just mentioned–and I believe he spoke the truth–he’s the one who killed my father point-blank and caused for the shoot-out to happen. And this still leaves me to wonder about what the fuck I’m going to do with the woman in my bed.
First things first; a few hours of sleep and then church, and then hopefully some more saw action if it’s up to me.
CHAPTER FIVE
– MERIBETH –
The door swings open and I jump off the bed. Dammit. I never have been jumpy but being stuck in this room for days is getting to me. The people bringing me food knock before they enter but Ramsey just bursts inside as if he owns the place.
In reality he does because this room belongs to him. I know because I’ve gone through every inch of space, every drawer, and every cabinet. I’ve been wondering why he’s kept me in his room and where he has been sleeping since it’s clear it wasn’t in his own bed.
I glare at him while he gets ready to say something but his phone interrupts the both of us. He takes it from his pocket, looks at the screen before he jabs it and brings it to his ear. He grunts in a way of giving the other person a greeting and then listens while his eyes stay on me.
I expect him to spin around and leave but instead he lets me listen to a one-sided conversation as he starts to speak, “Hunter, thanks for the offer, brother. For now we’ve got things covered. Though, I just had a nice run-in with a certain mafia son and I’m sure his father won’t like the favor I gave his son. The same favor he gave my father. But we don’t give a shit, right?”
He releases a sinister chuckle and I can’t help but hold his stare. Did he just insinuate what I think he did? He killed Logan Bane’s son? Leith is dead? Holy fuck.
“Nah, keep your ass in sunny California. Yeah. Absolutely. Thanks.” He rumbles some more one word statements, ends the call and puts his phone away.
“You haven’t been eating,” he snaps, his gaze locked on the plate with the two slices of cold pizza.
I’m tempted to ask about his insinuation concerning Leith but I manage to keep my cool and simply shrug. “I don’t like leftover pizza multiple days in a row. Do I need to mention it’s served cold? Mafia princess or not, in reality I never complain about anything, but I do have my limits because that’s just gross. And who the hell knows what they did with it before it was smacked on a plate and thrown in this room.”
He pulls his phone out of his pocket again. “What do you prefer?”
I narrow my eyes and cross my arms in front of my chest. “Great, I’m getting a final meal, like the prisoners on death row? Why don’t you take that phone and be sure to shove it where the sun doesn’t shine.”
The corner of his mouth twitches. “I don’t make promises I can’t keep, but I can tell you that you’ll be in my bed a little while longer. So, just tell me what you like to eat and I’ll have it delivered for you.”
“I’m not hungry,” I snap.
I’m starving but that’s beside the point. Not to mention, it’s my freaking birthday and I want nothing more than to eat a freaking fried chicken sandwich, some fries, and ice cream as dessert. And I want to see my mom. I want to visit her, hug her close, and tell her how sorry I am about some of the things I said and did.