Page 45 of Kings Fear No One
“I’ll collect info. After I’m done beating the shit out of him.”
I reach for the pliers and nod at Ozzie. He understands what I’m asking of him and rushes to prop Xavier’s mouth open.
Over the next two minutes, the room fills with Xavier’s pained howls as I pry a couple teeth from his gums. The front incisors pop out easily. It’s the rear molars that are a bitch.
Xavier has no choice but to bear the excruciating pain. His hands flex open and shut as he seizes up in the chair, and the blood in his mouth muffles his screams.
Mace grabs my shoulder. “Logan, pace yourself. We need him lucid enough to gather info?—”
“Back off!” I growl, shrugging him off. When he tries to grab me a second time, I swing on him.
My own brother.
I don’t give a shit that I do—we fist fought many times growing up. It was often how Dad had us settle our disputes. He’d clear the coffee table in the living room and let us wrestle and tussle it out. A couple years older, I was always bigger and stronger, but Mace has always loved a challenge.
He usually held his own, even if I more often than not won by the end.
Now’s no different as I swing on him. He ducks last second, then locks his arms around me in a submission hold.
The altercation becomes a runaway train from there.
Silver and the others stand back like Dad used to when we fought. They let me break Mace’s hold and retaliate with an elbow to his gut. I take a fist in the jaw, and he grunts when I spear into him and we crash against the concrete wall.
I disappear into my pent-up anger.
Mace isn’t my enemy—distantly, I can recognize that—but at the moment, he’s a representation of it. He’s the guy on the receiving end as I draw back my fist and crush it into his ribs.
The others don’t jump in ’til we’re on the brink of knocking each other out. Silver and Cash grab hold of Mace while Ozzie and Tito jump on me.
When it’s all said and done, the basement looks like a tornado raged through it. Xavier remains in the middle of the room, banded to the chair by the thick rope, dripping blood from his gums. Mace is held back on one side while I’m on the other.
“That’s enough,” Silver scolds. “Both of you, out. Tito and I will handle the interrogation. And if I find out this happens again, I’ll kick both your asses. Or maybe let Tom know what his sons have been up to.”
Mace storms out with Cash following to check up on him.
I leave in the same foul mood.
“Ozzie, back the fuck off,” I call over my shoulder.
The club’s resident joker’s on my heels. He must figure since Mace has got Cash, he’ll do the same for me. But I don’t need anybody to make sure I’m alright.
I’m not alright.
I’m still seething. Rage still pumps through my veins. I cross the covering out front where everybody parks their bikes and mount mine.
“Where you off to?” Ozzie asks. “Break somebody else’s face?”
“Maybe. I’ve only broken two today.”
He scoffs. “We’ve got to get those numbers up. I expect five out of you. Minimum.”
“Cut the shit. I told you I don’t need anybody checking on me.”
“How about a drink? Not here,” he adds. He scratches his neck that’s covered in tattoos like the rest of him. “You know, blow off some steam.”
I pause for half a second, considering his offer. “Where?”
Twenty minutes later, we’re two of three inside the Titty Bar. The third guy sits right beside the stage as the early-evening dancers gyrate to “Cherry Pie”. He’s clearly a regular, peering up at the ladies like they’re goddesses on earth, his glasses damn near fogging up.
