Page 140 of Parrish

Hallelujah, hallelujah, hallelujah!

The steel toe of my boot slams into his ass and I give the chain another forceful tug.

“Crawl, motherfucker,” I shout.

The humiliation temporarily paralyzes him, and he remains still. I don’t fret. Instead, I crack another smile and reach into my kutte. This time, I pull out a rusty pair of pliers. Flexing my hand, I latch the teeth of the tool around his ear lobe. I ball my fist and jerk my wrist, watching in fascination as he doubles over in pain.

Another flick of the wrist.

Then another.

His flesh separates.

Blood spurts.

Hallelujah!

I loosen my grip on the pliers and stare at the ear wedged between the teeth.

There’s plenty more where that came from.

Dropping his ear and the tool to the ground, I lift my hand and wipe my brow. Switching the chain from one hand to the other, I begin to drag the poor bastard to the center of the room. My eyes connect with Pipe’s and he gives me a curt nod.

“We’re good,” he says, shoving his gun into the waistband of his jeans. Righting an upturned chair, he tips his chin towards it.

Riggs comes to my side and takes the chain from my hand. Rolling my neck, I crack my knuckles and watch as he unwinds the chain from the president’s neck. With Stryker’s help, he props him up in the chair and the two of them begin to chain him to the chair. Wolf steps ups and takes the motherfuckers hands, winding them behind him and handcuffing them to the back of the chair.

Diverting my eyes to Pipe, I watch as he empties the contents of the duffel bag and gets to work on his craft. Satisfied with his progress, I make my way to the front of the chair and take a knee in front of Chains. Leaning close to his only ear, I shout my question.

“How’s the pain?”

“Fuck you,” he sneers.

“Hmm,” I mutter. “Tolerable, I see.”

Scratching the stubble lining my jaw, I look to my brothers.

“Maybe I’m losing my touch,” I consider, holding out my palm. Stryker places a hammer in my hand. Wrapping my fingers around it, I stand tall and advance to the fallen king.

“Take your best shot,” he dares.

“Why, thank you,” I say before I swing the head of the hammer against the side of his face.

Once.

Twice.

He spits out three teeth.

Hallelujah!

Pipe moves next to me and I glance at the wires in his hands.

“What the fuck is that?” Chains shouts.

“That, my friend, is a bomb,” I explain, spinning around to retrieve the detonator. Walking back to Chains, I lift the device in my hand and point to the green switch. “One flick of the switch and I’ll blow your dick to the fucking moon.”

“You’re a fucking sadist,” he sneers with a mouthful of blood.

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