Page 69 of Dirty Salvation

He was flipping a silver coin along the backs of his knuckles like he was out for the day and enjoying himself.

Crazy fucker was juiced just waiting for the call to the plate, his bag of tricks sitting at his feet as though he'd brought his gym clothes to work. There was nothing in that bag made for fun, not if you were on the receiving end anyway.

Lawlessalwayshad a lot of fun using his tools.

Between Hawk twitching his hands against the worn denim on his legs and the stillness of Lawless, Rider knew the job would get done.

TheRebelswere about to lose the last three of their lower ranks. Such a pity. Rats across the world would wear black and mourn for a month. The little shits hadn’t been able to hide deep enough for Grinder not to find them, his tracker was the best hunter they had but these imbeciles hadn’t made a hard job for him. Wiping his head of all thoughts of Icy, or he would have gone lunatic on those bastards before he got any answers from them. As it was, his fists clenched so tight his thumb ring cut deep into his skin.

"We can make this as painless or painful as you want, boys. All dependin’ on what you tell me and how quickly. My boys here want you to choose door number two, so it's all up to you."

Rider parked his tall self in the middle of the insulated barn that stood at the halfway point between his compound and the edge of the mountains, hidden from sight by trees and overgrown tall thickets of bushes, it was the perfect off-site location for all their dirty dealings of the death variety. From the outside, the corrugated tin barn didn't look like much; it was managed that way for a reason so any hikers stumbling on it would just keep on walking.

But inside it was a revolutionary murder room.

Each wall soundproof, the floor was smooth steel, no tile cracks where blood could gather and linger leaving behind traces of DNA. Anyone asked, they were told the truth; it was somewhere to store a prized 1964 Chevy out of the elements. Rider knew hiding in plain sight was usually the way to keep people out of his club business.

Always keep a lie simple.Believable.

Rider stood powerfully in their eye line. He wanted them to see his mood, to feel it in his every word.

They needed to be aware they were going to die tonight. The three men had been hung up like slabs of raw beef from hooks cemented into the ceilings for the last day, kept waiting and hungry, chains tight around their wrists, made to stand on the tips of their boots, there was absolutely no escape for them. Not much breathing time left for them, either.

But as with all things concerning hope, Rider saw the glimmer it in their eyes, perhaps the Renegade Souls wouldn't kill them, they were thinking, maybe just a rough beat down, that they could handle.

He smiled tightly letting them keep that hope a little longer.

Morons would do almost anything to live, he'd found.

He stood in front of Kevin Timebridge otherwise known as T-bone. The cockiest motherfucker staring Rider down with his mouth turned up in a sneer. His stained crooked teeth going in all misshapen angles, the few he still had left in his mouth, and a vicious old scar stitched all wrong slashed down half of his face made him a pretty fucker not even a mother could love.

Rider crossed arms against his chest. All around the periphery stood his boys, first, they'd do the questioning, then came the fun. "I wanna know where Hades is holed up. If anyone is gonna know it’s you, you always were stuck up his ass." Simple enough request, not even asshats like theRebelscould get confused over that.

T-bone smirked before spitting on the floor right near Rider's boots. "How 'bout fuck you. Fuck all'a youSouls. I ain't sayin' nuthin and neither are the others ain't that right?"

Lawless moved before anyone saw him.

A daunting shadow reaching out of the dark, he was behind T-bone in a second, his motion fluid, his thick fist covered in a custom spiked knuckle duster made uniquely for his meaty paw pounded him only once in the bare ribs, making sure to grind, to twist, before he pulled his hand back and half of T-bone's skin and blood with it.

The scream was terrible.

If Rider had had any conscience at all left in him he would have winced.

As it stood, with his jaw tight to hell and his self-control fraught around the edges, he wanted to tell Lawless to go at him again and again, to inflict every slice of pain they’d given to his girl.

He never for a second lost sight of what had happened to her, and these three punks had had a hand in her torture.

They were going to die so painfully; it was just a matter of minutes now.

"Dickbags. I don't think you heard me. So, I'll ask once more, being deaf isn't anything to joke about." Hawk snickered as Rider continued. "We know your president has gone to ground, just like the shithead pussy we know him to be."

"He isn't a pussy, Prez, we like pussies. Hades is a punk-ass rat, going where all rats go, to shit." Offered Grinder in a deeply amused tone.

"True enough, G." Rider shifted his feet along the assembly line of hanging meat, next to T-bone hung Smite. A guy in his late forties, balding in the back and a belly so fat he was a shoe in for Santa if he ever retired. His eyes were wild, made worse from the three lamps throwing up shadows everywhere.

"Hades. Where?"

"Keep ya fuckin' mouth shut, Smite. We ain’t telling these twats anything. We's dead anyways." Rider flipped his amused gaze back to T-bone. As dumb as the guy looked he wasn't wrong.

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