Page 38 of Providence

He was wrong. Goliath was a nightmare.

But I was a fucking psychotic break.

I pulled my own knife from my boot, sliding it down Ricky’s cheek, pulling his eyes back to me. “Don’t make me cut out your lying tongue, Ricky. Have some fucking dignity.” I shook my head like Ricky was an errant child rather than a predator who was about to have his dick cut off. “But you knew she was high as a fucking kite, didn’t you? You knew because you gave her the drugs yourself, you fucking slimy piece of shit.” I took a calming breath through my nose.

“You sat with us the other day, Ricky, you said you understood what Damnation was about. You seem to have forgotten that Apocalypse fucking belongs to Damnation, Ricky. It fucking belongs to me.”

I sliced the knife down his cheek and he screamed like a bitch. His eyes went wide, ping ponging between us like he was going to find salvation in one of my Brothers. Cain’s face was a mask of hatred. Of all of us, he hated exploitation of women the most. It was a fucking crusade for Cain. Goliath had no salvation for anyone, let alone this asshole. I saw the moment he realized he was fucked. That he’d lost it all. His body caved in on itself and his head hung between his shoulders.

“Let’s talk about Bambi,” Cain said softly from the shadows, and I saw Ricky’s spine go ramrod straight. Bingo, motherfucker.

He lifted his head, his jaw set. “Don’t know nothing about Bambi. She didn’t show up for work and Cherry was flapping her mouth about shit.” Goliath slid forward, grabbing Ricky’s hands and cutting his index finger off with a pair of bolt cutters. Ricky screamed as blood poured down his arm.

I shook my head like I thought him losing his fingers was an actual shame. I didn’t. “Every time you lie, Ricky, Goliath is going to cut off a finger. Once he’s done with your fingers, he’s going to cut off your balls. I don’t think you need them.”

Goliath did his weird fucking grin, blood splatter sprayed across his face. He was definitely going to have to fucking shower before we went home to Serendipity.

Thinking about Dippy made me long for this shit to be over. I didn’t get any perverse pleasure out of it, although I’d never shied away from it either.

“Tell me about Bambi?” I asked as Goliath gripped another finger.

Ricky shook his head, his face pale. Goliath lopped off another finger. Fuck, those were some good quality bolt cutters.

I didn’t ask again. I just waited, my eye never leaving Ricky’s face. When he clamped his lips shut, I nodded to Goliath. Another fat finger fell to the floor and the noises Ricky was making now were more animal than human.

When Goliath separated out his pinky finger, Ricky screamed. “I fucking sold her!”

I blinked. Then I blinked again. “Excuse me? I’m not sure I fucking heard you correctly.”

Ricky panted, his face so pale it was gray in the dingy garage light. “I fucking sold her to the Cartel.” He gasped the last bit out like he was signing his death warrant.

I was going to be this asshole’s Judge, Jury and fucking Executioner.

I got real close, made sure he memorized the face of Death. “You are going to die, Ricky. You can die quick, or you can die agonizingly slow for as long as I can keep you alive. I will fucking flay your skin from your bones but keep your fucking black heart beating so I can flay you some more.” Ricky pissed himself, and I screwed my nose up at the filth of him. “Tell me everything, and I’ll put a single bullet through your brain.”

Ricky began to talk. The more he talked, the angrier I got, until I put the gun to his head and regretted promising him that it would be quick. The fucker didn’t deserve it, but I was a man of my word.

I switched my view to that of my Horseman, Death, and watched his soul leave his body as his brains leaked from his skull. There was no doubt in my mind where his dirty fucking soul was going, and I only hoped Luc would fucking send him to the very pits when he got there.

I stood in the shower,washing the blood and stink of death off my skin. The water swirled down the drain with a pink stain, and I was kind of glad that the only remnants of Ricky left on this earth was swirling down the drain right now. De La Renta had pulled his truck up to the basement doors, and two of his boys had climbed out wheeling a barrel. That was the last I would see of Ricky. De La Renta was a fucking sociopath, but he was better at making shit disappear than Penn and Teller. He wasn’t part of Damnation, but we’d had a good working relationship for a long time now. This was not the kind of business where you could trust anyone, but it was mutually beneficial. He took out the vermin, and I paid him well.

I climbed out of the shower, eager to get home to Dippy. I wanted to fucking kiss her, but I wondered if she knew what we’d done tonight, if she’d even want my mouth anywhere near her.

She seemed to want Goliath, and that asshole wallowed in death and blood like a pig rolled in shit.

I pulled on a clean shirt and jeans, slipping on my cut.

My cut was like one of those Irish folktales. The Redcaps. My dad used to tell me that they dipped their hats in the blood of their enemies. My cut had seen so much bloodshed, I was bowing under the weight of it.

Cain hadn’t even bothered to shower before riding home, eager to see that Dippy was safe with his own two eyes. I didn’t blame him. I wanted to be home with her too. Maybe climb into her bed and curl my body around hers while she was still soft with sleep.

Instead, I was calling my men to battle. We were going to war, and it would mean bloodshed. Suddenly the weight of that President patch on my chest felt like a fucking grenade. I pulled on my boots and loaded down my body with weapons, even though I was inside the Clubhouse. The enemy had penetrated our borders, had been mere yards from our front door and we’d been oblivious. I almost purred at the cold press of my gun when I slid it into the holster at the small of my back. I considered just taking the Horsemen and ending this Cartel threat once and for all, leaving the men behind and no one any the wiser. It would save lives for now.

But I didn’t build this Club to coddle them. Stepping down had been on my thoughts more and more, and eventually they would have to stand on their own two feet, live or die by the reputation that I had created for Damnation MC. They would have to become that boogeyman in these dark streets. They couldn’t do that if I took care of all the threats that came our way myself.

Did I feel bad that I contemplated walking into the Cartel’s warehouse and burning it to the ground with everyone inside? Not even a little bit. I was Death.

I walked into my office, surprised to see Goliath standing in the corner of the room, his tense muscles and casual stance at odds with each other. Trigger was sitting on the couch, the world’s largest coffee in his hand. The kid pulled some long hours, but he was still here at the crack of dawn because I told him to be. Bet he fucking cursed my name though.

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