Page 9

CHAPTER

EIGHT

Brick

Sighing, I glance down at the papers in front of me. Hawg printed everything he could find on Rayleigh’s parents, then the brothers managed to stake out their residence to get current pictures of them. I didn’t bother waking Rayleigh up to look at them because Hawg managed to get into the DMV database and print off copies of their driver’s licenses confirming we had the right fuckers.

Dead fuckers. Well, they will be as soon as Phoenix, Voodoo, Shadow, Grim, and Rael return. Until then, we’ll work on a plan to take out all three individuals. Right now, I’m happy my grandfather turned what was supposed to be a wine cellar into our interrogation room. Some might say it’s a torture room, but we get a lot of information from the assholes who end up there, so perhaps it’s a bit of both.

I’ve still got a few hours before church and know with everything coming up, there’s no way I’ll sleep. With another deep sigh, I pull the first sheet off my inbox then set about getting some work done. Two hours later, when my alarm goes off, I shut down my laptop, quickly file the stuff I worked on, straighten the rest of my desk, then head out of my office with one goal in mind.

Fix breakfast for Rayleigh.

After pouring myself a much-needed cup of coffee, I quickly scramble some eggs then make some toast. A large glass of orange juice completes her meal, which I carefully carry to my room. Walking in, I see the bed is empty but notice the bathroom door is closed. Setting the tray on my dresser, I make my way to the couch then sit down before finding the local news.

With everything we do, it’s important to keep up with what’s happening around town. While the businesses are legit, we have some dealings that are definitely outside of the law. I don’t want to miss something critical happening like a rash of drug overdoses, or kids missing, then find the club on the law’s radar. Better to know and be prepared with alibis.

The bathroom door opens and she walks out, looking more rested than yesterday. “Hey.” Her voice is soft, almost shy sounding, as she moves toward me. Seeing the tray, she asks, “Is this for me?”

“Wanted to make sure you ate before I headed into Church. Also, while you’re eating, I’m going to shop for you.”

“How can you do that?” she questions, bringing the tray over to the coffee table. “Do you want some of this?”

“I’m good, sweetheart. As to how I’ll do that, I’m going to order online and have it shipped here.”

Her brows raise as she slowly sips her juice. “I won’t claim to understand. Guess it’s something else I need to learn about. Oh, I do have a question. When do I start working?”

“As soon as we deal with Enoch. I’m not as worried about your parents even though we’ll be handling them as well because they don’t live as close as he does. Can you tell me what it was like for you growing up?”

I suspect I’m going to hate whatever she chooses to disclose, but need to know so we can plan the appropriate punishment. I need to remember, however, she’s still somewhat fragile. I don’t think the abuse she’s endured has totally broken her, but I don't want to trigger something traumatic with my questions.

She sighs, puts her juice down, then curls into the corner of the couch until she’s hugging her knees to her chest in a protective gesture, one I instinctively know she’s used often. I feel like a complete jackass making her relive any painful memories, but the more I know, the more I can make them hurt. Well, me and my brothers, that is. Because they’re going to feel every fucking ounce of fear and pain she has. Them, and that motherfucker, Enoch, who thought he could take her to the brink of death without suffering any repercussions.

“I don’t remember a lot from when I was a little girl which could be a good thing since what I do remember is the stuff made of nightmares. Are you sure you want to hear this, Brick?” The look she gives me is pleading; her cheeks are flushed as though she’s ashamed, only she’s got no reason to feel that way. Their abusive behavior is not her burden to carry.

“Rayleigh, there’s no reason to be embarrassed. You aren’t responsible for the actions of others, you’re only culpable for what you do and say. I promise, unless it impacts or affects the club in some way, I won’t share what you tell me.”

Nodding, she deflates and starts talking. “The first time I realized my parents disliked me, I think I was about four or five. They were still asleep when I woke up, and I was hungry, so I tried to fix myself something to eat. Only, I spilled the milk because it was too heavy for me to lift, then knocked the bowl over which made the cereal fly everywhere. I was picking it up when my mother came into the kitchen, saw the mess, and went into a rage. She picked me up, shook me while she screamed in my face, then she tossed me through the air. I hit my head on the counter and split it open, which made her yell even more because blood was now spurting everywhere. When my father came in to see what all the fussing was about, he told her they had to get me seen at the hospital because the cut was too deep to heal on its own. She was so angry at me, but got dressed and took me to get stitches. All the way there, she told me I was to say I was climbing up on a chair and it was unbalanced, it then tipped over, and I fell off if anyone asked me how it happened.”

“That wasn’t your only visit to the hospital, I’m assuming,” I rumble out. She shakes her head as a lone tear slowly rolls down her face.

“No, I’m pretty sure the hospital has quite a thick file on me by now. Both legs have been broken, twice. My arms were broken so severely I had to have emergency surgery to fix them. They’ve dislocated both of my shoulders, hit me so forcefully that I ended up passing out, cut me with knives, and beat me endlessly, even for infractions that weren’t mine. When they’d go out, they’d lock me in the hall closet, not even giving me enough courtesy to turn on the lights; now, I hate the dark, then they had the gall to get mad when I’d soil myself. Once they started drinking and became addicted to hardcore drugs, they didn’t always remember to feed me, so there were many times I went days without eating.”

“Jesus Fucking Christ! And no one noticed anything wrong? How in the hell is that even possible?” I realize as a biker I tend to handle those who cross me or my club harshly, but she was just a little girl; why didn’t anyone stand up for her?

Instead of shrinking further back into the couch from my irate outburst, I see a small smile cross her face, which makes me ask, “Why aren’t you upset?”

“I am, but you have no idea how long I wished someone would stand up for me. Even though it’s just you getting angry over something that happened in the past, it means something to me is all. Do you want to know more?”

As much as I wish I could say no, I merely nod instead, steeling myself for whatever she’s about to tell me.

Her face reddens again, and she shifts her eyes so she’s not looking directly at me. “I’m kind of hesitant to tell you this next part,” she confesses, her tone nearly a whisper. Her voice is so low right now I can barely hear her. Taking a deep breath, I watch her straighten her shoulders before she forces herself to look at me. “I’m sure you know that at a certain age, all girls get their periods. My mother never told me it would happen or even how to be prepared for it. I woke up one morning, covered in blood from the waist down and in a lot of pain from the cramping. Crying, I went to find her to tell her I thought I was dying, and she laughed at me. Then, when she realized I was a complete mess, she stormed into my bedroom to see my bedding pretty much destroyed. She started punching me in my stomach, which already hurt, calling me horrible names as she vented her anger on me. Once she was finished, she stripped the bed and wrapped the bloody sheets around me then told me to clean up my mess.”

I can’t stop what I do next; I move toward her, scoop her into my arms then sit back down with her wrapped around me like a spider monkey as she quietly sobs. “I’m so sorry, honey. I remember one of the club kids who was a girl got hers and her mom, an ol’ lady who moved away years ago, made a big deal out of her now being a woman. She took her shopping to get the stuff she needed to use, sat her down, and explained she should take care of herself, then made sure us boys knew how to help because as she said, someday, we’d have a woman in our life, and we needed to know how to deal with the cramps and what-not .”

Banter’s Betty was something else. When Tyah came into the common room all those years ago, crying and in excruciating pain, Betty immediately knew what was happening. She got her squared away with a heating pad, a couple of pain relievers, then after Tyah was taken care of, she sat me, Banshee, Kicks, and Brew, who were all a year or so older than Tyah was, down and explained those particular facts of life to us. Instead of making it a huge taboo thing, she told us we might grow up to be outlaw bikers, but we needed to know how to treat a woman with care if we ever wanted ourselves an ol’ lady. Of course, we were too young to think of a permanent relationship with a woman with anything other than revulsion, however, the lesson stuck. I make a mental note to add those hygienic products to my order for Rayleigh since at some point, her cycle will come.

“And as far as schooling, they pulled you out before you graduated because someone noticed signs of abuse and reported them?” I inquire, wanting to reconfirm what she previously told me.

“Yeah. A social worker called them and set up a time to come out to the house to talk to them and check on our living conditions. On the day she came, our house was spotless, my room looked like a little girl’s room should look, and they both regaled her with stories of my ‘perpetual clumsiness’ as my mother called it. Of course, I was threatened not to say a word against them before she ever showed up or I’d find myself in an even bigger world of hurt than normal, so when she took me aside to talk to me, I confirmed my parents’ story by telling her I was extremely accident prone. She followed up twice more after that then advised us that she was closing the file and marking it as a false claim. The day after that happened, all the pretty things in my room were burned in the back yard and I went back to sleeping on a broken-down mattress. Shortly after the case was officially closed, I was withdrawn from school.”

“That’s illegal, you can’t just not go to school.”

“They told the school they were going to homeschool me.”

“I’m betting they didn’t,” I bite out.

“No, but I knew how to read by then, so any time they brought anything into the house that had writing on it, I’d read it as soon as I was alone. My math skills aren’t all that great, but hopefully, I can somehow get more education.”

“I’m going to have Hawg set up a computer for you so you can take whatever online classes you need to get your GED.”

“Who’s Hawg?” she asks.

“He’s the club’s IT tech.” When I see she still looks confused, I elaborate, explaining, “He’s our computer genius. He’ll teach you the basics so you can maneuver around online.”

Wonderment fills her eyes and I silently make a solemn vow that she will get to experience everything her heart desires as long as it’s within my power to give it to her. The alarm on my phone beeps, letting me know I need to head down for Church. Reluctantly, I stand with her still in my arms. I like how she feels there and hope she quickly realizes what she wants. Willing my dick to soften, I gently set her back on the couch. “I’ve got to head to Church, Sprite. Do you need anything before I go?”

“I don’t think so. Is it okay if I watch television?”

“You can do whatever you want, Rayleigh. Watch tv, read, sleep, wander around the clubhouse. Just don’t go outside.”

“I’m not ready to face anyone else, Brick.”

“No rush, babe. None at all.” I barely resist the urge to kiss her before heading out the door.

Time to plan for a few demises.

“Shut the fuck up, we got shit to discuss!” I bellow before slamming the gavel on the table. Once everyone settles down and stops talking, I wave the papers I brought with me then pass them to Banshee. “While we hash out a plan, I want everyone to look at the pictures and information Hawg found while digging for information about Rayleigh’s parents. I understand Enoch is currently in the cellar waiting for us, correct?”

Phantom nods before admitting, “We may have roughed him up a little based on what the Ankeny brothers said regarding how y’all found her, but he’s still alive.”

“Good. He needs to feel some of her anguish before we end his pitiful life. Anyone going to miss the fucker? Parents, spouse, siblings?” I ask.

“Looks like he has no family, only business associates. Considering he’s into shit which involves hurting and abusing women, I suspect if he just up and moves away, he won’t be missed by anyone at all,” Phantom suggests. “We can always go back to his place and make it look like he up and left if you think it would help throw off any inquiries.”

“Go ahead and do it,” Banshee directs. “We can let the fucker stew in his own piss and shit for a few days, because even if she didn’t suffer in that way, she was malnourished, according to Voodoo.”

“She was, brothers. While I won’t share all she told me, just know that her wounds and injuries weren’t all from Enoch. Some came from her parents as well, so I think they should endure a week or so of our hospitality, don’t you?” I inquire.

“Fucking hell, you’re saying that itty bitty tiny thing was hurt by her parents too?” Rooster shouts, his hands balled into fists.

“Yeah, Brother. Gonna say this, then let’s go pay Enoch a visit. As much shit as we’ve done over the years, I’ve never been as horrified as I was this morning when she shared with me a good portion of the hell she’s survived. Right now, she’s broken and fragile, but I believe once she has fully healed then been allowed to find out who she truly is, she’s going to rise from the ashes like the proverbial phoenix, Brothers. And yes, if she decides it’s what she wants as well once all of that shit has happened, I’m making her my ol’ lady,” I submit.

“Do I get to meet her before you do that?” Banshee asks, smirking at me.

“Considering she’s still healing and shit, I honestly don’t know for sure, Ban. I’ve told her she’s welcome to move around the clubhouse, but she says she’s not comfortable doing so right now. Kinda makes me think she’d be upset if y’all were traipsing through my room since she feels safe there.”

“No worries, Pres. I’m sure it’s really because you’re afraid she’ll take one look at me and toss your ass aside,” he replies, causing the room to explode in laughter.

“Fucker. Okay, if there’s nothing else, we’re going down to let Enoch know how shit’s gonna be for him until he draws his last breath. As for her parents, got an idea there as well, just waiting on the brothers who requested to be part of their demise to arrive then we’ll have Church so we can discuss their punishment further.”

When no one else indicates we’ve got more to go over, I slam the gavel down and we head to our interrogation area.

Sometimes, I think Riffraff was a fucking genius and other times, I worry about the fact he was in charge of the club for so long because he could be a devious motherfucker. As I look at the room Enoch is currently being held in, I smirk.

Each of the rooms has a slightly sloping floor with a drain in the center to make cleanup quick and easy. The whole cellar is also completely soundproof, which definitely suits our needs. Other than that, every single room was designed with different torture scenarios in mind, which is why Riffraff built it in what was supposed to be the resort’s wine cellar. To access it, you go through a concealed door in the pantry which has been upgraded from when it was first built to a biometric system. Unless you’ve been entered into the database, you won’t get in. Not only that, but despite all the times the club was raided in the early days, the concealed door was never found by law enforcement. We also house anything illegal we’re holding for transport purposes, not that we’re involved in much of that these days. As far as the world knows, anyhow.

Enoch’s room is reminiscent of a retro boxing arena, complete with shitty lighting, a smoky atmosphere which is piped in through the ventilation system, and a rack full of various tools we’ll use to show him what happens to assholes who hurt and abuse women. The boxing gloves hanging on the walls look innocuous, but the padding has been modified to steel. So, one good punch will feel like being kicked with steel-toed boots. He may not have worn those when he was beating on Rayleigh, but one of us will because we’re Bastards and we do what we want.

As I approach the chair he’s currently strapped in, I can’t help the chuckle that escapes. Poor fool still looks clueless as to why he was brought in by us. Time to advise him of the poor choices which will culminate in his body, or what’s left of it, being buried in an unmarked grave somewhere in the mountains. There are so many nooks and crannies, as well as hidden caves and water features, the likelihood of his body ever being found is slim to none. If the wildlife doesn’t disperse the parts, the elements will.

“You’re probably wondering why you’ve been brought here, correct?” I ask as my brothers move to my sides; arms crossed over their chests. I see fear briefly flash in Enoch’s eyes as he stares at each of us before he tries to bluster his way through.

“Hey, now, I don’t step on no toes, man,” he claims. “I keep my business outta the area, just like your old man wanted. ‘No drugs or pussy in Roanoke, Enoch,’ he told me when I first went into business. So, I don’t run drugs or girls here. You can ask anyone, they’ll tell you!” His voice peters off when Rooster steps closer, his menacing glare causing the bound man to piss himself. Again.

Fucking hate the smell of a coward’s urine when he’s finally faced with the consequences of his actions. We haven’t really even touched him for fuck’s sake! “Grow a set of balls, fucker,” I growl out while waving my hand in front of his crotch area. “Most adults are capable of holding their piss.”

“Unless they’re incontinent,” Brew drawls out, smirking at me.

“Yeah, or maybe they take a water pill,” Jingles jests. “My grandpa took one, he was constantly running back and forth to the bathroom to take a piss.”

I resist the urge to roll my eyes right now. I know what my brothers are doing; they’re lulling Enoch into a false sense of security. “Both facts are true, but I don’t believe our guest has either issue. Now, have you figured out why you’re here yet?”

“No clue, honest to Christ, man,” Enoch stammers out. “Like I said, I stay outta your area.”

“You recently took something in repayment for a debt,” I remind him. “Something which you later threw out as though it was trash, but not until you attempted to break it.”

His eyes widen almost comically when it finally dawns on him exactly what I’m talking about. “B-b-but she’s dead! There’s no fucking way she managed to survive! She was barely breathing when I dumped her on the side of the road. It was freezing out then it started to snow, so she would’ve frozen to death if her injuries didn’t kill her.”

“She’s alive and doing well,” I inform him before striding over to the boxing gloves to put a pair on. “No thanks to you, you slimy motherfucker. Why on earth would you beat someone who’s much smaller than you half to death? What did she ever do to you?”

“I got pissed off, okay? I asked her to clean up that shack, but it still looked like shit when I got there to relax after a bad business deal.”

“You got pissed off,” I menacingly hiss, repeating his words back to him.

“You.Got.Pissed.Off!” I bellow, each word earning him a solid punch to his head, chest, stomach, and kneecap. “Got news for you, asshole, we checked that place out and let me tell ya something. You could’ve brought a whole slew of house cleaners there and it still would’ve looked like absolute shit. You left her with barely any food and no supplies to clean that dump with.”

He spits out some blood from his busted lip and glares at me with the eye that’s not swollen shut. “That place was fully stocked. She lied to you to gain your sympathy.”

Motherfucker! His actions nearly cost Rayleigh her fucking life. Now he’s trying to defend himself?

“Yeah, you and I have a different definition of what’s considered fully stocked. So, here’s what’s gonna happen. I’m all about an eye for an eye. We’re gonna rough you up a bit then turn the air conditioning way down to icy temperatures while you think about the error of your ways. We’ll check back with you in a week or so, maybe sooner, maybe longer, to see how you’re faring. How’s that sound?”

My brothers hoot and holler in agreement as Enoch gives me a sullen glare. “What am I supposed to eat?” he asks.

“Well, you’re in luck because Kracken here picked up a few things similar to what you left for her. We’ll untie you too since you’re gonna be locked in, but don’t think you can off yourself and get out of what we’ve got planned. You’ll have cuffs on your hands with just enough give so you can eat,” I answer.

“Ah, yes, let me tell you what we’ve got here, shall I?” Kracken muses. “Let’s see, five giant bottles of water, a loaf of white bread, a package of bologna, six of those tuna and cracker kit things. Y’know, those aren’t too bad, I’ve put them in my saddlebags before when on a short run, so I didn’t have to stop and grab something to eat. Oh yeah, and four lunchables. Sorry, no condiments for your sandwiches, man.” He smirks at Enoch as he dumps each of the aforementioned items on the floor. “Bon appetit!”

Rayleigh had told me what she had available food-wise when she was at the shack, so I merely mentioned it to the brothers while in Church. Guess Kracken decided that if it was good enough for her, it was good enough for him. I can’t help the sinister chuckle which escapes when I see the defeat and fear in Enoch’s eyes. It’s finally dawning on him we’re not killing him today, but he won’t be leaving this room alive.

Yes, I’d love to beat the absolute shit out of him then dump him on the side of the road for the wilderness to dispose of, especially since we’re in the middle of an unseasonable cold snap. However, I don’t want to give him a chance to escape, so we’re going to play this game here where we can keep an eye on things as they develop.

“Also, my brothers and I will be taking turns watching over you to make sure you behave,” I advise, smirking when his face falls. “Can’t say if you’ll get any more bruises or not, guess it’ll depend on their mood.”

After my declaration, each of my brothers approaches Enoch and either punches the hell out of him, or cuts him with their serrated blade knives, each one of us carries this on our person in case we find ourselves in a predicament where we can’t let bullets fly without innocent bystanders being injured. They don’t slice him enough for him to bleed out, however; I want him to undergo the same affliction as Rayleigh did. Once he’s spread eagle on the floor of the room, Scythe changes out his restraints and after we lock Enoch in, Scythe settles in for the first watch while the rest of us head back to our rooms to clean up.