Stung by Stealth: A Satan's Savages MC Novel #3 (6 page)

Opening my eyes wide at his words, I swallow hard at the sheer look of satisfaction in Mad Dog’s eyes. The bastard truly is happy about what’s just happened. It’s a bit of an extreme punishment, but Mad Dog seems to be doing things to the extreme these days.

“Right, now we’ve had our fun, let’s get back to work. Techie, I want you to find someone we can talk to about
José
and his
employer.
”

Techie nods and exhales. “It’ll take time. It’s not easy to find shit with not much to go on, but I’ll get onto it right now.”

“That’s all I ask.” Mad Dog stands up walking with Shogun next to him. He steps inside the clubhouse leaving me bewildered as to what I’ve just observed. I can’t believe the idiocy Mad Dog is doing for fun. I know Steel wouldn’t approve, he’d be appalled by his father’s behaviour. I wish there were some thing or some way we could make Mad Dog see the way he’s acting isn’t rational.

He’s falling apart.

He’s melting down.

He’s lost without Steel.

It’s the middle of the night and I can’t sleep, yet again. Thoughts of Hannah and my kids are swimming in my head. It’s hot too, which isn’t helping. Sliding out from bed, I step out of my room and down the hall toward the clubroom to get something to drink. As I walk toward the clubroom, the light is on. Raising a brow, I know I was one of the last up so the lights should be off.

Entering the clubroom, I look out to watch Mad Dog pacing the floor. No one else is here, they must all be in bed, but he’s looking down at the ground rubbing the back of his neck like he’s got a lot on his mind. Taking a deep breath, I wonder if I should turn back around, or see what’s up. I figure I need to get in close, so I move over toward him and he looks up at me as I approach. “You okay, Prez?”

He huffs and shakes his head. “No.”

“What’s up?”

“My ex-fucking-wife called, that’s what. It was a shock and I’m in a bit of a spin.”

Tensing my shoulders, I clear my throat not really knowing what to say. “Do you want me to get Chops?”

“No! I just need a beer.”

I nod and walk over behind the bar to start pouring him a cold one. The frosty head makes its way up the stein and I place the full glass on the bar as he storms over and plants himself on a stool. “You wanna talk about it?”

He shakes his head and grabs the beer. “Nope! Just haven’t heard her voice in eight years. I don’t know how to handle it.”

His reaction to his ex-wife makes me think of Hannah, and if I will be like Mad Dog in eight years without her. “Losing Steel and then this… no one can blame you for being on edge. Not to mention the Mexicans we still know nothing about.”

Mad Dog nods and takes a long draw of his beer. He puts his stein down and sighs. “Hopefully tomorrow, Techie will bring this guy in he’s been tracking that might know something. I’m in a torturing mood.”

Chuckling, I nod. “I bet you are.”

Mad Dog skulls the remainder of his beer, wipes his mouth and slams his stein on the bar then slaps my arm.

“Thanks for being here, it helped. I’m going to bed. I need to sleep. Or I’ll lay in bed awake more than likely. Shit! Anyway, I’ll see you tomorrow.” He belches loudly, the sound resonating off the walls, then he marches off flicking the light switches as he goes. The faint glow of the moon filters in through the window, and it lights the path back to the hall where I need to go. Strolling from behind the bar, I walk down toward the hall. For some reason, everything in me is wanting to stop off at Skye’s bedroom and just go in. But I won’t. Not tonight.

Making my way back to my room, alone, I crawl back into bed pulling the sheet up over me as the ceiling fan blows a soft breeze down over my arms. I’m conflicted. I want to be spending the night with Skye, buried balls deep fucking her, but I want to be making love to Hannah. I can’t have both, so for tonight, I’ll have neither.

After another restless sleep, I make my way out of my room to the clubroom where everyone is already up. I’m rising later and later because it’s taking me so long to fall asleep, with all the conflicting thoughts running through my head.

Hannah or Skye.

The club or my job.

I’m being pulled in every direction and I have no idea if I can withstand the pressure. Rubbing my face as I stagger into the open expanse, I notice Mad Dog talking to Chops. Sniffing as I go to look the other way, I notice Aimie walk up to Mad Dog and wrap her arm around his waist. It churns my stomach to witness someone so young with someone so fucking old. He pushes her off him and she furrows her brows at his dismissal. One thing I know about Aimie, she only wants approval. She moves back in thrusting herself into Mad Dog’s arms and kissing his lips actively. He grabs her waist and pulls her from him forcefully. I start rushing toward them, but he reacts before I can get there. Thrusting her down onto the pool table, he backhands her across her cheek. Her head snaps around to the side as she yelps out in pain, cowering into herself.

“Don’t you ever interrupt me and my VP while we’re talking again. You got me?”

She nods holding onto the side of her face as her eyes flood with tears. “I just want to make you happy,” she whimpers.

Mad Dog laughs and glowers at her. “You’re a club whore! You could never make me happy. Now fuck off.”

Jess steps up, grabbing Aimie’s arm pulling her off the table and into an embrace as she glares at Mad Dog, then she walks off with her outside. He sniffs as we all stare at him.

“What the fuck are you all looking at?”
he yells as my chest heaves from breathing so heavily.

I can’t handle women being abused. It doesn’t sit well with me
, at all.
He just went down a notch on my belt.

Techie walks in oblivious to what just went down, dragging in an old guy by his ponytail that reminds me of the actor
Danny Trejo
. I loved him in
From Dusk Till Dawn
and
Con Air
. But it’s not him, obviously.

“He’s here. But I have to tell you that 28.6% of the world’s population is Hispanic. 0.43% of them reside in Australia. They may sound like small odds, but when you’re looking for a particular individual in a percentage of people… 99,459 is still a fucking shit load of Hispanics to go over in Australia searching for someone who knows anything about
José the Mexican
,” Techie states with authority.

Mad Dog laughs as Techie drags the guy in. His knees are bloody and his mouth is bleeding too. I’m pretty sure Techie, and I’m assuming Ryder, have already had some fun with him.

“Well, well, a little Mexican friend. Take him to the Chop Shop. Chops get ready… Stealth, I think it’s time you see how we interrogate.” Mad Dog grins widely as Techie hands the guy over to Chops, who grabs him by his hair and pulls him toward the basement. It’s only now I take notice that his hands are tied behind his back with cable ties.

“What do you want with me, amigo? I know nothing. I’m just a family man esé. Please let me go.” His moan as Chops cracks his fist into his jaw echoes up from the basement stairs.

Swallowing hard as Mad Dog walks up to me, I try to control my erratically beating heart. I’m not entirely sure I can watch whatever is about to go down.

I’ve seen some terrible shit in my time as a detective, but this…

Mad Dog slaps my shoulder breaking me from my thoughts and starts walking with me toward the Chop Shop. “I know you’re new to this, but like I said, I’m taking you under my wing as my protégé. If you can’t hack this, then I’ll have to rethink my stance on that. You hearing me?”

Swallowing, I nod and take in a deep, steadying breath trying to calm the rising panic bubbling away inside me.

Four words keep ringing in my ears.

To serve and protect.

And right now, I’m about to stand by and watch—a probably innocent man—mutilated and more than likely die. The thing that really fucking sucks is, without blowing my cover, there’s not a damned thing I can do to stop it. If I want to be in Mad Dog’s good books, I have to not only stand and watch but try to enjoy the show.

We begin the descent down the dark stairwell into the Chop Shop and I take another deep breath never having been in here before. We arrive the bottom and Mad Dog opens the door. Stepping through, my feet feel heavy as my boots hit the concrete floor. Moving around the partition my eyes open wide when I see a metal chair and the Mexican strapped to it completely naked. Seeing the guy in all his glory disturbs me. I guess it’s to make the victim feel shame and embarrassment so they will talk faster. It makes sense.

Mad Dog treads up to the Mexican and pulls his chin up making him look right at him. The guy’s eyes open wide as he breathes fast and rushed like he’s panicking.

“I don’t know nothing, I swear esé. I don’t know who you’re after, but I can’t help you. I have a family… a wife, three daughters and one of them is pregnant with my first grandbaby. Please papi, I don’t know anything.” He flicks his eyes up to the right.

Mad Dog huffs and shakes his head. “Well, I’m sorry family man. If you’re here, there’s a reason. Techie wouldn’t just pull a random Mexican off the street for me.”

“I swear, I don’t know anything.” He glances up to the right again and I furrow my brows.

Mad Dog nods letting his chin go and turns to look at Chops. He grins and pulls over a trolley with a blue cloth draped over the top. I internally cringe not wanting to know what’s underneath, but what I do know is that I’m going to find out. He peels back the material to uncover a set of stainless steel surgical tools. A shudder runs down my spine as they glisten in the dim lights shining down from above.

“What the hell are they for?” the Mexican asks shaking his head from side to side like he’s refusing to admit he knows they’re for him.

Chops smiles and picks up a scalpel, he brings it up to his eyeline and twists it from side to side. The sight even stops my heart.

“They say that reattaching the amputated part of a finger is a long and complicated surgical procedure. Sometimes it can’t even be done.”

The Mexican pulls his wrists hard on his restraints as he struggles in the chair. “What the hell is that supposed to mean?”

Chops looks at Mad Dog and he nods. Chops takes the scalpel and grabs hold of the Mexican’s hand bringing the blade down in line with his pointer finger.

“No, please! No. I swear esé, I swear I know nothing.”

Then maybe this will jog your memory.” Chops brings the Scalpel down and slices straight through the guy’s finger at the top knuckle just below the nail. His piercing scream slices through me as I feel his agony while watching the tip fall lifelessly to the floor and the blood ooze from his finger. He moans out in pain as he struggles in the chair. Chops lets his hand go.

“You fucking cocksucking motherfuckers. I don’t know anything. I told you. I don’t even know why I’m fucking here, and you’re chopping off my fucking finger? You guys are fucking loco.” He breathes harshly in and out of his nose and rests his head back on the seat. I take a deep breath trying not to let this get to me.

I’m conflicted.

I want to hate this, but I’m kind of enjoying it at the same time.

I want to let this guy go. And yet something in me—my training—is telling me he knows something. It’s the way he looks up to the right when he talks, that’s a sign of lying. I think he knows more than he’s letting on.

“I think you know exactly why you’re here. You’re lying. You keep looking up to the right. You’re breathing heavily. You definitely know something. The way you’re over exaggerating the fact you know nothing. How you’re pleading about your family. You looked up to the right when you talked about them too. I don’t think they exist. I think you’re full of shit. Getting your fucking finger sliced off is just the beginning for you…
esé
,” I say.

He glares at me and huffs, as Mad Dog chuckles and Chops nods like he’s impressed. He clicks his tongue on the roof of his mouth and takes in a deep breath. “I’m still not talking. Don’t mock my accent or language again amigo, ‘cause when I get out of these restraints, I’ll fucking gut you like the el cabrón you are.”

Something washes over me. Anger. Annoyance. I’m not sure. I lunge forward clenching my fist and slam it into his jaw. The sting of his jaw bone against my knuckles reverbs down my hand as his head slams to the side and Chops laughs as Mad Dog places his hand on my shoulder.

“Easy Stealth, it’s your first time. Just watch for now.”

Breathing hard, I glare at the Mexican, who’s now smiling at me, which only intensifies my anger while harsh breaths move in and out of my nose.

“You pissed him off! You know what happens when you piss off one of Mad Dog’s men?” Chops asks and the Mexican shows his teeth with a broad grin.

“You have a Kumbaya and a group hug? Maybe a kiss or two?”

Shaking my head, I take a step back as Mad Dog chuckles and slaps Chops on the back. “Go for it Chops, this guy’s a fucking wankstain.”

Chops grins and puts down the bloodied scalpel. Instead, he picks up a pair of plier looking tools. Mad Dog chuckles and nods stepping up to the seat and grabs a black head strap from the back of the chair. The Mexican struggles moving his head from side to side, but Mad Dog grabs his head and slams it back against the metal, the thud making me jump slightly as the Mexican groans, stopping all movements. Mad Dog places the strap around his forehead tightening it, so his head is held firmly in place.

“Now that gold tooth of yours, is it real or plated?” Chops asks.

The Mexican takes a deep breath moving his jaw from side to side and then spits toward Chops, it misses and lands on the concrete.

“Now, now. That’s disrespectful. I think we’re being quite polite to you so far. You could, at least, answer our questions.” Chops smiles at him maniacally, his eyes twinkling with delight at the pain he’s going to inflict.

“I ain’t telling you shit.”

Chops nods. “That’s what I thought. It’s plated. Shame… would’ve been nice to have made some money from you. Oh well.” Chops looks at Mad Dog, who smirks leaning in grabbing his jaw and pulling it apart for Chops to gain easy access. Chops picks up a metal thing and starts to wrench it, it opens wide and he shoves it into the Mexican’s mouth so he can’t clamp his jaw shut. Mad Dog still holds his jaw even though the clamp is in there just in case. My stomach twists at the thought of what’s about to happen. But like Mad Dog said, if I can’t stomach this, then I’m not going to be by his side, and I need to be. I’ve got to stick this out. Chops moves in as the Mexican moans and tries to struggle against Mad Dog’s grip. Chops moves the pliers into his mouth and grips onto the gold tooth to the side of his mouth at the top.

Taking a deep breath, I want to look away so badly, but my eyes deceive me and stay focussed on the torture. Chops begins to wiggle the tooth from side to side while the Mexican moans in agony. Blood trickles down from the gum, and Mad Dog snickers as the squelching sound of the tooth tearing from the gum turns my stomach.

“Almost there…” Chops declares as the moans from the Mexican become loud and grating on my nerves.

As Chops pulls the tooth free from its confines, blood spills to the back of his throat. He gurgles trying not to swallow the blood that’s pooling in his mouth. Mad Dog pulls the clamp free and he and Chops jump back from the Mexican quickly, obviously knowing what happens once you let go. He immediately spits the blood from his mouth. It doesn’t go far, mainly splattering on his knees and dribbling down his chin onto his naked chest where now, I notice scars that look like bullet wounds.

This guy’s no family man.

“You guys are fucking loco motherfuckers. I’m going to kill each one of you with my bare hands once I get out of here.”

Mad Dog laughs. “You’ll never step foot back on this premises, I can promise you that.”

“Then I’ll get you when you’re off site esé. Either way, you three are dead men. Seis pies abajo!” He spits out some more blood.

Chops shakes his head. “You’re still not going to talk?”

“What do you want to talk about? The weather? Politics? Your mama’s pucha?”

Mad Dog clenches his fist and slams it into the side of the Mexican’s face. A loud crack resonates through the Chop Shop, he groans in response and then his chest moves up and down in laughter. “You will get nowhere with me.”

Looking at Mad Dog, he’s furrowing his brows and clenching his jaw. I think he’s getting sick of this guy’s blazon attitude. If he doesn’t talk soon, I’m sure his torture is only going to get worse.

“Right, enough of this shit. Who’s José? And who’s his employer?” Mad Dog asks.

He shrugs and spits out some more blood. “No puedo hablar Inglés.”

Rolling my eyes, Chops and Mad Dog look at each other furrowing their brows.

“You
can
speak English, you dipshit. Don’t play games, or we’ll play them harder!” I demand.

Mad Dog looks at me nodding his head like he’s proud that I understood the Mexican. In my line of work, I’ve heard that line plenty of times before.