Snake looked over at Sharp. “Gag him.”
They shoved a handkerchief into his mouth, and Snake closed his eyes seeing Joc and Jade behind his eyelids. Jade’s brown orbs begged him to set things right. It was the same expression he saw in his nightmares. Jocelyn remained untouched. Sweet, and unsuspecting, she always viewed him with eyes full of trust and the ultimate devotion. It ripped his heart out every single time he saw her. It’s impossible to hide from the things which live inside of you. He felt every bump in the road as they drove, never taking his gaze off the man beside him. He had a deceptive laid back vibe. Most people probably thought he couldn’t hurt a fly. Snake knew better.
They pulled up in front of the dilapidated stone building, and he let everyone else get out first.
“Let’s see if we can jog your memory. You may not remember me, but I’m sure you remember my wife and my daughter,” Snake said.
The man’s brown eyes flickered with fear in the dim lighting of the van.
“Yeah, you remember now, huh? You thought you ran me out of town with my tail between my legs, huh? Turns out I was gathering my crew. We’re back, motherfucker. You ready to face grown ass men instead of women, you cowardly fuck?” He spat on Hiram’s, face ignoring his whimpers as he stepped out.
“Get him in the shed and string him up,” he instructed, walking inside.
Hiram went wild, lunging out of his seat. Thrown off by the heavy iron, he stumbled and fell out, slamming his face on the van steps on his way to the blacktop below. He knew what the man assumed when he said string him up. The monster in him delighted in the man’s panic. He could make out the muffled, “I never touched them.”
“No, you ordered it. Which makes you the worst one in my book.” Snake walked toward the building, mentally bathing in the anguish and terror pouring off the man behind him. They’d rigged up lighting, spread out a tarp, and set a chair up with handcuffs, just waiting for an occupant. Snake removed a pair of leather gloves from his hoodie and slowly pulled them on. Shutting down the moral part of his brain, he focused on his anger and pain. Sick and Sharp dragged the struggling man in. Streaks of blood ran down his swollen face. Karma’s a bitch, and she’s riding shotgun with me.
When the man was handcuffed to the chair with his feet bound by rope, Snake stepped forward. He threw a left hook that snapped his head to the right. “That’s for my wife.” He stepped back and kicked. The heel of his steel-toed boots smashed the man’s genitals, and he let out a high-pitched screech.
“Look at that, the little piggy’s already squealing,” Snake said.
His brothers snickered.
“Now that you got your memory back, we’re going to talk about friends.” He grabbed the back of his neck and pulled it back. “You know the ones I’m talking about, don’t you? I’m going to remove this gag, and you’re going
to tell me what I want to know. Anything else comes past those lips, I’m going to start cutting.” Snake removed a knife from the scabbard he wore on his hip; the tip glinted in the lighting run by a generator. He ripped the gag away and the man spat out blood. “We’re listening.”
“Didn’t touch your babe.”
“Wrong answer.” Snake hit him with an uppercut that snapped his head back. The man’s eyes crossed. “Let’s try this again, Hiram.”
“Never going to tell on my brothers.”
Snake laughed. “Damn, I was hoping you’d say that.” He cut off the sleeve of his flannel T-shirt, revealing a swastika. He gently sliced into the skin. Blood welled up from the cut. Hiram clenched his teeth.
“Looks like we got a real tough guy,” Sharp said.
“We’ll see about that.” Snake began the delicate work of cutting off a strip of flesh. Screams exploded from Hiram.
He moved back to admire his handiwork.
“Bring me the salt.”
Sharp handed him the round canister, and he poured some into his hand, then rubbed it in the wound. Hiram bucked as he cried out. His hoarse voice wavered.
“N-no more.”
“What you got for me?” Snake asked, calmly carving away at more of his flesh.
“Names.”
Snake paused. “I’m waiting.”
“P-Paul Smith, Jacob Sanders, a-and T.J. Perkins.”
“I’m going to enjoy killing you. I wish you would’ve taken longer to break.”
He gave a rusty laugh. His swollen cracked lips formed a wicked smile. “Can’t kill me, boy. I’m the only one who knows where your child is.”