He released Brooks. The motherfucker didn’t bother to hide his tears. He’d fucked over Christopher, too, and he fucking knew it.
Christopher slammed his fist against his jaw again, then walked to where Kyler lay, strapped to the table. He circled him, pausing at the counter to get a knife and ice pick from the counter.
“You set me up, Kyler?” he asked. “Yeah, motherfuckers take a dislike to other motherfuckers. Some guards throw their fuckin’ weight a-fuckin-round, but this felt like a fuckin’ hit to me.”
Instead of answering, Kyler screwed up his face and cried.
“You did it on Brooks’ orders?”
The motherfucker didn’t answer, just kept crying.
Christopher jammed the icepick into Kyler’s side, not concerned by his screams.
“You ever met Christopher Caldwell?” he asked, deciding to use Megan’s assessment of him. Over the months, he realized she was right. “He a simple motherfucker. Love his woman, his children, and his club. Give motherfuckers a lotta fuckin’ chances. That’s the motherfucker that needed you to represent him. He only wanted to be in bed with his wife. A day or two away woulda been fucked up, but seven days? Christopher might’ve for-fuckin-given you. Slapped your fuckin’ head and said ain’t puttin’ up with that a-fuckin-gain.” He went to where Kyler’s hands were shackled above his head. “Outlaw ain’t so fuckin’ nice.” He studied Kyler’s wedding band, then slid it from his finger and waved it in front of him. “What the fuck this mean to you?”
Kyler responded with a snotty sob as the ring to clattered to the table.
“Greedy motherfucker took my fuckin’ money.” Unshackling one hand and raising it up, Christopher hacked off four fingers, ignoring the screams and pleas.
Blood, fear, and sweat scented the air, annoying Christopher. If he allowed Brooks to live, he wanted to impress upon that motherfucker what would happen if he fucked over him again. This was the second time the motherfucker let a crazy bitch lead him down the wrong path. Otherwise, he would’ve shot Kyler and got it the fuck over with. Torture was Johnnie’s thing.
“Christopher,” Johnnie called, “let me do the other hand.”
Seeing Johnnie give in to his obsession with the smell of blood would take for-fucking-ever. Once the motherfucker started, he’d never want to stop. Most of the time, blood excited him. The exception being if he had to deal with psycho cunt.
Growling at the thought, Christopher sliced the top of Kyler’s thigh, then held up the knife to Johnnie.
As Johnnie hacked off the thumb Christopher had left and his other five fingers, Christopher went to Brooks and removed his gag. “Whatcha gotta say now, Brooks?”
“I’m sorry!” he cried, slobbering all over the place. “Please, I swear. I’m so sorry.”
“You shoulda been thinkin’ about that before you fucked over me,” Christopher snarled, the sound of the attorney’s voice pissing him the fuck and driving him to deliver a few punches.
“Stop, before you knock him the fuck out,” Johnnie admonished, rubbing his brow with the back of his hand. His eyes glinting, blood dripped from his fingers and spattered his jaw. “How the fuck will he learn…or will you shoot him in the head?”
Brooks sobbed as Kyler’s cries trickled to moans. Whatever answers he’d wanted would have to be dragged the fuck out of him. This was no longer a life or death situation. As long as he didn’t end up the fuck back in jail.
Getting his nine and exchanging a regular bullet for a hollow, Christopher went to the table. “Look at me, motherfucker.”
Shivering from shock, Kyler raised a cloudy gaze to him.
“I ain’t gotta hear what the fuck you said to Megan. Ain’t fuckin’ important. You fuckin’ bad e-fuckin-nuff to fuck over me. You bad e-fuckin-nuff to take the punishment.”
Christopher held Kyler’s gaze, lifted his nine, and fired, sending blood, skin, brain, and bone in all directions.
“Get rid of this motherfucker, Mort,” he ordered, not concerned by the screams of Brooks.
Mort nodded to his power saws on the counter. “I’ll finish up as soon as you and John Boy leave, Prez.” He preferred solitude to do his work.
“Get Brooks the fuck outta here, Johnnie.”
So ordered, Christopher headed to the club to shower. Megan knew he intended to kill, but he wouldn’t bring death to their house.
It took Cash several hours to amass the materials he needed to complete his tasks. The entire time, he wrestled with regret at not being in on the fun in the meatshack. Finally, the time arrived for him to head to Portland. On the drive to the Reddings, he appreciated the breezy night, filled with stars.