Total pages in book: 154
Estimated words: 148220 (not accurate)
Estimated Reading Time in minutes: 741(@200wpm)___ 593(@250wpm)___ 494(@300wpm)
Estimated words: 148220 (not accurate)
Estimated Reading Time in minutes: 741(@200wpm)___ 593(@250wpm)___ 494(@300wpm)
“Yes, sir.” Victor gestures to one of the other guards, who moves in and begins locking my wrists up again. “And the girl? She hasn’t yet been punished for her disobedience.”
What girl? Cherry?
Did they know about the plan she cooked up with Crash? Or that she lied about his earache?
Whatever it is, the reply is so short that Papa must not care too much about whatever rebellion it was. Probably because whatever she was doing didn’t mean a damn thing in the end. Crash is dead.
“Yes, sir. I’ll see that he gets his reward.” Victor ends the call, looks to me. “You’ll get your call.”
That’s one reward I’ll take. Though I wish to fuck it had come at a lower cost.
“Get us out onto the 395 and start driving. I’ll tell you when to stop,” Victor tells the guard as he steps into the van’s cargo hold. Not bothering to hide the name of the highway, even though I’ll be making a call and might leak the location—probably because he knows any trace on the phone might give away the general area, anyway. “I’ll ride back here and make sure Mr. Wall behaves.”
Yeah, probably better do that.
No fool, Victor double checks my shackles before sitting across from me, like he knows the sight of his drill sergeant face will make this drive feel a million fucking times longer. “Papa asked me to convey his congratulations to you. He was pleased to see that you are a man of considerable skill.”
Congratulations. For killing a friend. Papa can go fuck himself.
And that hole goes ragged again. Because now I get it. A demonstration. That wasn’t just about teaching the Devil’s Hangmen a lesson. Though it was probably that, too. But most of their money comes from gambling—and I’m the new guy, an unknown and more of a risk. But they’ve got a baseline on what I can do now.
But they knew Crash couldn’t fight again. So they sacrificed him to get that baseline. Sacrificed one of the best men I know. In a demonstration.
My chest is real fucking tight as I ask him, “Who’d you serve with, Vic? Army, I figure.”
Victor doesn’t answer.
I don’t need him to. I know a soldier when I see one. “That man Handlebar is burying now was a sergeant with Second Reconnaissance Battalion, Second Marine Division, a team leader, and a real fucking good man, too. Has a whole fucking collection of bronze stars. Don’t give me your congratulations. A decorated Marine died in your Cage today.”
A muscle in his jaw twitches. “He wasn’t a Marine when he died.”
Oorah, he’s begging for me to beat his ass. “Once a Marine, always a fucking Marine.”
“Bullshit,” he snaps back. “You stopped being anything when you put on that vest you were wearing, declaring loyalty to your club instead of your country. You put yourself above the law and betrayed every goddamn thing you fought for. So did he.”
That’s real fucking rich. “You’re a militia boy now, aren’t you? That’s the same fucking thing as a motorcycle club. A bunch of brothers who just want to live free and to take care of our own. But instead of protecting a man’s freedom, you’re helping to put them in cages.”
“You should be in cages. You bikers have no respect for the laws of this country. Your clubs are running drugs, selling girls, bringing illegals across the border. We’re just doing what the law can’t. Or won’t.”
Christ. The only thing worse than a self-righteous rich fucker is a self-righteous hypocrite. “You think the Iron Blood and all their associates aren’t running girls? The roads to the Cage are paved with all the needles your boys stuck in their arms to keep them on their backs. The people you’re working for are telling them to come to the promised land and then turning them into whores.”
“They should have known that if they come here illegally, they’ll get into trouble. Just like you and your clubs. You break the law, you pay for it.”
“Since when did the courts say that the proper punishment for a woman coming over the border is rape? Since when does a judge tell some asshole selling dope to get in a cage and beat another prisoner to death? And you talk about respect for the law?” A hard laugh escapes me. “You don’t stand for a goddamn thing. You’re just a fucking traitor to anyone who ever wore a uniform.”
That got to him. His jaw clenches and he stares at me for a long minute. Then quietly, “I suggest you sleep, Mr. Wall. We’ve got a long ride ahead, and if you open your mouth again, I might change my mind about letting you make that call.”
Bullshit he will. He’s already proved himself to be Papa’s little lap dog. But since I’ve got no interest in conversing with a goddamn traitor, I close my eyes.