Page 18 of Paladin's Hell

“Put your cut back on, Brother. And come with me.”

I do, unsure what Furnace is up to. Or why he called me Brother. Wanting only two things, to see my father take his last breath, and to go find Moira. Talk to her, comfort her. Fuck! He’s taken her from me, and I’m not sure I’ll be able to get her back. My own father fucking raped her. Would she ever want to even talk to me again?

I go into the normally forbidden territory, sitting in a chair Furnace brought in and placed at the end of the table. It puts me opposite my father who’s gone to his normal seat. The fucker’s still grinning, doesn’t seem worried at all.

In fact, he starts the meeting off. “I want to know why a prospect is sitting at the table. Boy’s got no right to be here.”

Furnace isn’t the slightest bit cowed. “He’s been here long enough. Proved himself. I vote him in.”

Before Blackie can protest further, the votes gone around the table. Everyone but my father says ‘aye’. All throw looks of support toward me, sympathy too. Looks of disgust go in the opposite direction.

“Brotherhood,” Furnace starts, “is what we’re all about, Brothers. And brotherhood means looking out for everyone else, having each other’s backs. It doesn’t include the right to a man’s woman, whether prospect or patched member. Anyone disagree?”

“Too right, VP.” Comes from all directions.

“Fucking right. Can’t take another’s woman.” This powerful endorsement from Rusty.

“She wasn’t fucking willing. Anyone could see that.” Bomber sends me a look of apology, as if he’s wishing he could have done more. The problem is, even knowing my father could be a bastard, none of us thought him capable of that. Even I hadn’t realised how much he must hate me.

“Prospects can’t claim women.” Blackie protests.

“Whether or not, you raped her. Disrespected her. Disrespected your son. You can do that to your flesh and blood? Makes me wonder how the fuck any of us can trust you.”

“Got it in one, VP.” Bomber says it first, but others are quick to agree.

“I vote Blackie out.” Rusty says it plainly. “Ain’t no place for a man like him in this club.”

Blackie starts blustering, Furnace shuts him up. “Nothing you can say, Brother. You can’t vote on this.”

The vote goes quickly around the table. Only seconds later it seems, Blackie’s out. As two members force him from his chair, and stand with him held tight between them, Furnace eyes his now empty seat. “Want to take a vote on a new prez now? Or give it some thought?” the VP asks.

“I vote Furnace.” Bomber hardly waits until the VP’s words are out of his mouth.

“Seconded.” Someone shouts quickly.

A full vote’s taken. Furnace looks like he’s just been passed a burden, but he’s quick to rise to the challenge. “First off, Carter’s now a full member. I’d say welcome to the table, Brother, but now’s not the right time. We’ll decide your handle later.”

I’m a member. Which gives me rights. No longer a prospect. I stare at my father. “I want him dead.”

“Dispatched to Satan? Well, Brothers. Our new patch has put that on the table. Anyone disagree?”

“He’s a loose cannon if we let him live. Out bad’s too good for him.” Bomber’s support surprises me. “Man thinks he can take what isn’t his.”

Another vote. This time I say ‘aye’ too, but all the time I’m watching my father’s face, seeing it go through a range of emotions as it dawns on him this is his last night on earth, finally settling on hatred directed toward me.

Furnace bangs the gavel loudly after pronouncing the death sentence. Then he catches my eye. “You were the brother wronged, Carter. You get a say in how he’s dispatched.”

It’s only then I realise how long I’ve hated him. I’d tried to be dutiful, done what was expected, followed him into his newly formed club at the time as a result of his plea to make up the numbers. It’s as if he’d been jealous of me all my short adult life. I was better looking, younger, faster, stronger. Everything he tried to belittle and put down.

The words come out before I’ve really had a chance to compose them. “We all know where he’ll end up. I want to cut his cock off so he won’t be able to rape anyone, even in hell.” My voice gets louder, stronger, as my father seems to diminish in front of my eyes. I could never, ever, forgive him for this. If he lived, every breath he took would remind me. “I want him to know what it’s like to burn before the fires of hell reach him. Burn his tat off. Do what you like to him after that, but let me take the final shot which kills him.”

“Rain hellfire down on him?” Furnace’s mouth quirks. “Reckon we might have found your road name. Hellfire.”

It was messy. It wasn’t quick. Blackie was begging for death long before I fired that bullet toward him. But no amount of suffering could make up for what he’d done to me. More importantly, what he’d taken from Moira.

Would I ever have another chance with her?

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