Page 66 of Devil's Marker

Cramer cried quietly. “Please.”

“Please?” Zip repeated. “You mean please stop and let you go home? Well, we’re at a crossroads. You tell me what I want to know, I’m gonna drop you off at home and you can get some medical attention. You may have to use a crutch, but you’ll be able to get around.

“Or, you don’t tell me what I want to know, I’ll have to take my satisfaction where I can get it. That means smashin’ your other knee. Know what happens then? You never walk again. Wheelchair time.”

Cramer cried. “I can’t. Dredge’ll…”

“Dredge a scary fucker, is he? He scary enough to cut your dick off in front of your face and make you eat it bit by bit?”

Cramer fell silent. He tipped his head back, trying to see out of the one tiny slit of an eye that remained partially open.

Zipper suddenly stood up. “Forget the knee. Get his pants open.”

Cowpie didn’t hesitate. He lunged toward Cramer’s belt and started pulling. Cramer reacted by screaming. “NO!” over and over.

“No’s not the word I’m lookin’ for,” Zipper said. “What I’m lookin’ for is an address where we can find the girls.”

Cramer said nothing. Even the pleading had stopped. His flaccid penis was flopped onto his thigh. When Zipper picked up a knife and started walking toward him, Cramer flailed, struggling against the handcuffs that held him bound to the chair that was bolted to the floor. When Zipper stood directly in front of him, Cramer began hyperventilating. That was punctuated by involuntary urination which made Zipper jump back.

It delayed the process, but not by more than a few seconds.

By that time, most of the club members were witnessing the Q&A, standing in a semicircle of shadows just outside the bright light showcasing Mr. Cramer.

When Zipper lifted the knife and bent forward, Cramer screamed, “DON’T! STOP! FOR GOD’S SAKE I’LL TELL YOU WHAT YOU WANT TO KNOW.”

“You got five seconds,” Zip said, lifting Cramer’s dick up like a sausage about to be sliced.

“Farmhouse south of town. Bought it when we came to town. Keep girls there until we’re ready for shipment.”

The word ‘shipment’ made Zipper see red. He nicked Cramer’s dick just to make a point. Cramer jumped, screamed, and started bleeding in a way that made the nick look much worse than it was.

“You’re not talkin’ fast enough,” Zip said calmly, holding up the bloody knife so Cramer could see it.

“Farney Road between Golinda and the Methodist Church.”

“What’s it look like?”

“Old white farmhouse. Barn that’s fallin’ down.”

“How many guys will be there?”

“I don’t know. Two or three.”

“Vehicles?”

“In the barn.”

“So it looks deserted from the road?”

“Yeah. Deserted.”

“All right. You’re gonna show us. I’m gonna ride with you, makin’ sure my knife is always real close to your dick.”

Boss figured there was a chance that S&B knew Marauders had one of theirs. On that note, he decided to take everybody he could spare. Armed. Just in case.

He left Bo, Win, Catcher, and Cue at the clubhouse. Win and Catcher both volunteered to go, but he thought one mission a night was enough stress.

Win was glad R.C. didn’t know about Robin. If all went well, she’d sleep through the whole thing and there’d be a happy ending. If not, the bad news could wait until she’d had enough rest to face it.

---