Page 52 of Minus

“Yes, but how did I know your money would be in the trunk and when it would be coming in? And as you yourself asked, why give the money back?” Viper was clearly impressed with himself, but for the life of me, I couldn’t figure out why. I imagined picking him up by his silk tie and shaking him until his neck snapped.

Viper continued, “I’m giving your money back to you, because three million dollars is pocket change to Los Psychos. We don’t need it, and we don’t want it.”

“Then what exactlydoyou want? I’ve got shit to do, and the constant pan flute music around this place is getting on my fucking nerves,” Cutter said.

“One thing, Mr. Cutter. I want only one thing, and then we can conclude our meeting.”

“And what would that be?”

“I want your ledger.”

Cutter laughed, struggling to stifle a cough. “What the fuck are you talking about?”

“Your black book. The ledger you keep locked away. The one that contains your club’s contacts, business associates, bank codes. You know the one I’m talking about.”

Cutter’s face turned to stone. “Whatever the fuck you think youmayknow about my club—”

“Oh, I know a great deal about you and the Burning Saints. Much more than you could possibly imagine. It’s partly because of the knowledge I have of such things, that I don’t care about your three million. I know, for instance, that your book contains a vast array of information regarding thevarioussourcesof that money, and that is what I’m interested in. Why go after three million, when there are hundreds of millions out there for the taking?”

“So, lemme get this straight,” Cutter said. “I’m supposed to hand you some fictitious book in exchange for money that you stole from me. And with the information in said fictitious book, you plan on taking over all my businesses. That sound ‘’bout right?”

“More or less. Yes. I believe you get the basic idea,” Viper said coolly.

Cutter’s teeth clenched. “Do you know who I am? I am the president of the Burning Saints. Hell, Iamthe Burning Saints. This is my town. Do you have any idea of how much hellfire I can bring down on your ass at a moment’s notice?”

“I thought perhaps this would be your reaction, so I made sure to bring more than just a financial incentive with me today,” Viper said. Crush pulled out a tablet, tapped the screen, and handed it to Cutter.

Cutter’s eyes filled with rage, and his hand began to shake. “You motherfucker, I’ll tear your fucking heart out and feed it to your children,” he growled.

Crush straightened, ready to step in should Cutter advance further.

“It’s okay, Crush,” Viper said, smoothing his suit jacket. “Mr. Cutter knows this is sacred ground. He won’t spill blood here. Besides, he wouldn’t want his friend to get hurt… any further… would he?”

Cutter handed me the tablet, which was playing a video stream of a dark, dirty room. Inside that room, Warthog was gagged and tied to a metal chair. From the looks of it, he was beat to shit. Some fucker with horrible acne scars was holding Warthogs bloodied head up by his hair, shaking it back and forth for the camera.

“You’ve made a big mistake,” Cutter said.

“I don’t think so. In fact, I believe that it’s you that’s underestimated me. While it is true that, historically, the Burning Saints have always run the security game here in Portland, times are about to change… starting right now.”

“I suppose you think Los Psychos is going to take over?” Cutter asked.

“Who better? Look how easily we got to you!” Viper exclaimed. “I know everything about you and your operation. I even know that you’ve already got one foot in the grave.”

Cutter looked at him with an unfiltered rage. If Warthog’s life wasn’t currently in Viper’s hands, I think he would have gone for his throat right then and there. I was afraid the fine folks who’d come to the market for a churro and a reasonably priced alpaca wool-knit cap were about to witness a murder.

“If you kill Warthog, I’ll come at you with everything I have,” Cutter said. “I won’t care where we are.”

“Maybe so, but that won’t really change anything, will it? Your time is over, Mr. Cutter. Your club is vulnerable, and soon to be without its leader and founder. Take this money and retire someplace warm. Get away from all this rain and bloodshed before it’s too late.”

“The day I start taking orders from little piss ants like you, is the day they put me in the fucking ground.”

“That day may be closer than the doctors have told you. Not just you, but Warthog, Mr. Minus here, and your whole club,” Viper said.

“Don’t bet on it,” I replied.

“I find it funny that the two of you talk so tough when you are in no position to do so. If I do not get word to the man on the other side of that screen by the designated time, he will begin removing pieces of your friend. He’ll start by taking his toes, one by one, before moving his way upward.”

“I don’t know anything about a book,” Cutter said defiantly.

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