“Have you had enough to tell me how you let this happen?” Hunter asked quietly.
“I am so fuckin' sorry, Hunter,” Keith said.
“Don't tell me how goddamn sorry you are,” Hunter replied. His voice remained low, but the tone was like a hammer hitting white-hot iron. “I didn't ask you how sorry you are. I asked how you could let Cain out of your sight while you were supposed to be protecting him. Or did you fuckin' forget why Eagles always get sent out for these things in groups of two or more? Did that somehow slip your mind?”
“We'd already shaken the dude down,” Keith said, hating the sound of his own voice as he tried to explain. “He handed over the money without any problems, an' everything seemed fine. I figured we were in the clear, so Cain went out to the bikes an' I hung back to take a quick piss in the dude's bathroom...”
“You hung back to take a piss,” Hunter repeated in disbelief. “Even though about a zillion different fucked-up things could’ve happened from the moment you two separated. Even though the dealer could’ve trapped you in the bathroom, shot Cain in the back of the head, then taken his money back and run off. Your fucking bladder was full, so you didn't even care.”
“Look, I know how stupid it sounds, man,” Keith answered. “I fucked up bad. I got no excuse. You want my patch, you can have it. You wanna get the other guys together an' beat the shit outta me, I got it comin'.”
“I almost lost an Eagle tonight,” Hunter said. “I'm not in a hurry to lose another, no matter how dumb he acted. No, there's two things I want from you.”
“Name 'em,” said Keith. “Whatever they are, you got it.”
“First, I want your word that you'll never take your fuckin' eyes off a brother again when you're supposed to be lookin' out for him,” Hunter insisted. “I don't give a flying fuck if you're so full of piss that it's sprayin' outta your ears an' you gotta take a crap the size of a birthday cake besides. You go in your pants if you have to, but you do not ever make this mistake again. An' if you ever break your word to me on this, Keith, fuck beatings an' fuck your patch...your life won't be worth a pile of stale dogshit. Understood?”
“I swear,” Keith promised. “It'll never happen again.”
“Good. Second, I want you to take all that anger you're feeling toward yourself an' point it at that asshole hangin' in the supply room. We gotta know what he knows, an' fast, before whoever's behind this decides to fuck with us again.”
Keith nodded. “Whatever's in his head, I'll rip it out, guaranteed.”
“You'd better,” Hunter said. He lifted the whiskey bottle and poured a final shot for Keith. “Now take your drink an' get back there. We got him all set up for you.”
Keith swallowed the whiskey, stood, and stormed into the supply room.
The spare rags and cleaning supplies that usually took up space back there had been relocated to make room for a narrow metal bed frame, stood up a few feet from the wall. Bones' skeletal form was hunched over the stubby legs of the frame on the floor, bolting them into place as two other Reapers held it upright and kept it steady.
Nostril's wrists and ankles were secured to the frame with handcuffs. He was struggling weakly, his wounded stomach stuffed with blood-drenched rags.
A modified car battery rested on the floor next to him.
“Hey!” he shrieked, seeing Keith. “Hey, you're a reasonable guy, okay? I could tell when we talked earlier at the motel. You gotta tell these guys I don't know nothin', understand? You gotta tell 'em I had nothin' to do with what happened to yer friend, please! Just take me to the hospital an' drop me out front, an' I won't tell 'em nothin' about you guys, I promise!”
“You promise, huh?” Keith asked mildly.
“Yeah, I swear, man!” Nostril mewled.
“Cross yer heart, stick a needle, all that?”
“Yes! Fuck, yes, absolutely!”
“I see,” Keith replied. “Well, Nostril, the thing is, we'd be happy to let you go. There's only so many times the cops'll look the other way when we kill motherfuckers, an' the way we see it, you ain't important enough to waste one of those times on. We know whatever went down in that parking lot, it wasn't yer fuckin' idea, so takin' the time an' trouble to kill you ain't gonna do jack shit fer us.”
“Right! Exactly!” Nostril exclaimed eagerly.
“An' as fer not tellin' the cops about us once you get to the hospital, we got no reason to doubt you on that score, 'cause by now you gotta know that if you did, we'd hunt you down an' fuckin' skin you alive.”