Page 23 of Babe's Bounty

“I’m grateful I could help. She’s very brave.”

“I heard the other woman didn’t make it,” Kristi says. I nod and watch Kristi’s eyes fill with tears.

“Her injuries were too much.”

“We tried,” Kristi says. Her voice cracking from sadness, but still strong.

“We tried,” I agree. Turning to Cliff, I hand him my business card. “I need to get going, but here’s my card if you need to reach me.” Turning back to Kristi, I give her a smile. “I’d like to hear how you’re doing, if you want to keep in contact. However, if you need to put all this behind you, I’ll understand.”

Kristi nods at me and squeezes the hand I offer. “I won’t forget you.”

“I won’t forget you, either.”

Turning to leave, I’m surprised to find Cliff walking out with me. “You’re a bounty hunter? From San Diego? Are you here on a job?”

“I am. My partner and I are tracking three men who escaped from jail with the help of a cop. We believe they’re all here.”

“If you need any help, call me,” Cliff says, handing me his business card. “Any time for anything.”

I smile in acknowledgement before leaving him with his family.

CHAPTER THIRTEEN: BABE

As soon as Min drives away, we get busy with the gift she left us. After transferring the man to a club SUV, the prospect takes off with the SUV Min stole. The Chicago club owns a chop shop. They have a profitable side business of stealing cars, dismantling them into parts, and then selling the parts to the various Demon Dawgs’ Chapters around the country. The chop shop hides inside a reputable salvage business. They’re so efficient that the few times the cops have come knocking with a search warrant, the car they were searching for was already in pieces and shipped out of town.

Torque and I take the piece of shit back to the clubhouse. Scorch stays behind to keep an eye on the church. He’ll let me know if he sees any activity. Like if my targets show up. Torque pulls into the clubhouse and circles around to the back, coming to a stop next to a squat brick building that might have been a house at one time.

“Welcome to the Shed,” Torque says as he opens the back door of the SUV and drags out our guest. The guy doesn’t move. Not sure how Min incapacitated the asshole, but she did a thorough job. “This was where the guard lived when our clubhouse was a furniture factory. We almost tore it down, but then we discovered it had a feature we liked. A basement.”

The boarded windows keep the inside dark. Until Torque turns on the light. I can see the outlines of where walls used to stand, but they’ve broken through them to create a single room they use for storage. The room’s a jumble of unused furniture, piles of supplies, and stacks of boxes. Torque weaves his way through the chaos and around a tall bookcase that reaches to the ceiling. Pointing to a file cabinet, he tells me to push it to the side. Once I do, I spot the hidden door behind it. With all the clutter, you couldn’t see that wall on the left side of the building extends further in to make room for a staircase leading down into a basement.

I follow Torque downstairs and watch as he dumps the guy on the ground. He reaches up and pulls down several chains, complete with old-style handcuffs. As I help him string the guy up, I hear the door open and the sound of several men clomping down the stairs.

“Heard you brought us a toy to play with?” Bush calls out. When he sees the skinny guy we’ve strung up, he grunts in disappointment. “He won’t take long to break.”

Piston chuckles as he picks up a bucket and carries it over to the sink. “Come on Bush, don’t be mean to our guest. It’s been too long since we had someone down here.”

Bush nods. “True. What has this guy done, and what information do we need?”

I give him a rundown on what Min uncovered while placing the cameras. “Min overheard the men complaining about how they broke the woman’s jaw. They ordered this guy to dump her body off a cliff or a tall building to make her injuries look like they came from a fall.”

“Is that so?” growls Bush, who gestures for Piston to do the honors.

Piston carries the bucket full of water over and heaves it over his head. The man sputters and curses until he sees the four of us standing in front of him. His skin turns an ugly shade of grey as his eyes widen in fear.

“Who are you? Where am I? What do you want?” he stutters.

“You forgot ‘when’ and ‘how.’” Bush smirks. “We’re the Demon Dawgs. Where we are is inside our torture room. What we want is for you to tell us where to find Jordan and his merry band of escaped convicts. As for when you die, that depends on how quickly you give us the information we want. Which also dictates how you’ll die.”

“Die?” He squeaks. “I don’t want to die.”

“But you will kill an injured woman by tossing her off a cliff?” I ask.

He gulps, but doesn’t respond.

“Answer the man!” Piston shouts as he slams his fist into the guy’s gut. Since he’s shackled only by his arms, his body sways from the force of the blow.

“I was just following orders,” he whimpers. “I didn’t have a choice.”

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