Page 115 of Resisting Temptation (Men of Honor 3)
Sawyer whistles. “I have a feeling this is not going to go smoothly, so tell us who we are dealing with here, Coop. Are we dealing with wannabe assholes like Wild Hogs? Or are we dealing with serious assholes like Sons of Anarchy?”
We all look over at him wondering if he’s serious. “What? It’s actually a pretty good show and those assholes are seriously badass, they will fucking kill you just for sneezing too goddamn loud. I just want to make sure if that’s what I’m dealing with then I’m prepared to be the one doing the killing.”
“No one is killing any one,” Cooper replies. “These guys are mostly into the drug scene, they are low on the totem pole. There is one guy in particular who hangs around a lot with Spike and Dennison that might know something, but I am sure he won’t talk easily.”
“He will fucking talk,” I reply before getting out of the truck.
Cooper curses and quickly follows me out. “Listen, Walker, you let me try first. If he doesn’t talk then you can have at him, but don’t cross the line and make me intervene.”
“I will let you talk to him first,” I respond, making no promises because I will fucking cross any lines that I need to.
I ignore the sounds coming from across the parking lot, by the chick getting her brains fucked out, and enter the dim-lit bar that’s clouded with smoke and littered with fat, greasy bikers. Everyone stops what they’re doing and looks at us like the outsiders we are.
“Pig,” someone calls out, while others make snorting noises. I’m assuming they know Cooper, considering he isn’t in uniform.
Coop rolls his eyes and looks at me. “That shit gets old so fucking fast, it would be nice to hear some new ones.”
I watch his eyes scan the place before his gaze lands on someone at the far end of the bar. I know that’s our guy when he starts making his way to him. The three of us follow and make sure to keep our eyes on our surroundings.
Evans leans over, “Yeah, these assholes aren’t Sons of Anarchy, they’re too fat.”
I grunt, knowing what he’s trying to do. Trying to lighten shit up, because I’m sure he can tell I’m close to fucking losing it. The problem is, nothing can calm the rage that’s threatening to erupt, not until I have Red and the kid back safe.
“Silas,” Cooper greets a short, pudgy asshole with long, brown, greasy hair, and the most pathetic skull tattoo I’ve ever seen, on his meaty bicep.
“Sheriff,” he mimics back with a smirk.
“Do you have any idea where Spike and Dennison are ton…”
“Nope,” the prick answers before Coop even finishes the question, and it’s easy to tell he’s lying.
I step forward but Coop holds his hand in warning. “So you don’t know anything about the kidnapping of a woman and kid they did tonight, or where they might be holding them?”
“Nope, and I wouldn’t fucking tell a pig like you if I did.”
I feel my temper spike, waiting for Coop’s word, but he doesn’t give it to me. Instead he lets out an exaggerated sigh. “Here’s the thing, Silas. I’m not here as a cop tonight. I’m here with some friends of mine, ones who you don’t fuck with, and your friends ended up fucking with one of them by taking his woman and kid. So if you don’t start talking and tell me what you know, I’m going to let you see what exactly my friends are capable of.”
The guy glances briefly at us before grunting then goes to take a long pull of his beer.
“Okay, time’s up.” With lightning speed, I knock the bottle from his mouth and catch it in the air before slamming his head into the counter. He howls as blood spews from his nose, but I don’t let up. Wrapping my hand around the motherfucker’s throat, I slam him to his back on the table behind him before shattering the beer bottle in my hand and holding the broken glass to his throat.
I briefly register a commotion going on behind me before glancing back and seeing Jaxson, Sawyer and Cooper’s guns trained on three guys. Splintered tables around them, and another three guys on the floor. Knowing they got it under control I turn back to the fucker in front of me. “You tell me what I want to fucking know or I will gut you like the fat pig you are.”
“I don’t know anything,” he grinds out.
“You’re fucking lying!” I shove the sharp glass under his jaw, giving him a good slice, making him howl again in pain. “That’s a fucking millimeter next to your major artery, one little fucking nick and you’re dead. Tell me what I want to know, or I fucking swear it’s next.” Pure fear sparks in his eyes but he still doesn’t talk. I shake my head. “Fine!”
“No, no, wait! Listen, I had nothing to do with it, I swear. They asked me if I wanted in. Dennison said we’d split the three mil equally but I turned them down, I’m not into fucking hurting kids, man.”
I like how he says nothing about hurting women. “Tell me where he’s keeping them.” I shove the bottle higher, slicing him again when he doesn’t answer immediately.
“Ow fuck!”
“Quit wasting my fucking time and tell me where they are! This is your last fucking chance, asshole!”
“Okay, okay. Dennison has a cabin about thirty minutes from here. It used to belong to his wife; Spike said that’s where they were keeping them. I swear I know nothing else, that’s all.”
I lift him by his bloody throat, bringing him back to the bar, then shove a napkin in front of him. “Write the fucking directions down.”
“I don’t have a pen,” he wheezes. Suddenly, one gets thrown in front of him from the bartender, who looks about ready to piss himself.
After he’s done, I look at the napkin then hand it to Cooper. “You better not be fucking lying to me, because if they aren’t there I will come back here and bleed you of every fucking organ you possess. Do you understand?”
