Viking appeared at my side. He crouched down to meet Rider’s eyes, flicking his knife back and forth in his hands. “So you got a type, rape-rat? You like the itty-bitty blondes, or do the pre-pubescent brunettes do it for ya? Below age ten or just over?”
Rider shook with fury. “None, you dick! I don’t fuck kids. I would never do that!”
Viking drew back his head. “Really, ‘cause that’s all you guys do over there in that commune, right? Rape kids day and night, all in the name of ‘God’?”
Rider closed his eyes briefly. “I didn’t do anything like that. I’m telling you the truth. I never did none of that shit. I stayed locked away, failing every day at being the leader . . . I didn’t know . . . ”
“Mmm . . . You better not be lyin’ to me, fucktard. ‘Cause if there’s one thing none of us Hangmen will tolerate, it’s kiddie-fiddlers.” He pointed the tip of his knife at Rider’s forehead, pressing it forward until a drop of blood spilled from the skin. “So if we find out you’ve been lyin’—if I find out you’re lyin’—I’m gonna get real inventive with your dick and this here knife.” He smiled. “I’ve been gettin’ some real interestin’ tips from my fellow psycho, Flame. And shit, that guy hates pedos even more than me.”
“They came for me,” Rider said urgently. “After I destroyed the room where they were holding the Lord’s Sharing, I banned it, expelled the practice . . . so they came for me. My own twin turned on me and took my place as prophet. He and his guards locked me in a motherfucking cell, away from anyone who could help. And for the past several weeks they’ve beaten me every day, making me pay for getting rid of that messed-up practice. My own twin turned on me because he’d rather fuck kids.”
We all stared at him. And I had zero fucking clue as to whether he was lying. Because that’s what Rider did. He fucking lied. Lied all the bastard time.
“I believed that shit my whole life, was made to. But I recently found out how and why the commune was created . . . and none of it was for religion. So you might say I’m a sinner now too.” I glared, waiting for him to keep the hell going.
“Judah has been running the commune, pretending to be me. The people didn’t notice it was a switch. And now he’s gearing up for war. He’s got the people fired up, telling them end of the world is coming, that God revealed it was Armageddon.” He inhaled. “They are coming here for you. Judah’s planning an attack on the Hangmen, this compound, soon. And they’re coming with one goal: to kill. All of you . . . and all the women too.”
My jaw ached from how hard I was clenching my teeth. Tank asked Rider, “Your brother, is he still using the Klan for guns?”
Rider frowned at the turn in questioning, but nodded his head. Tank turned to Tanner. “The guns. That fuckin’ shipment of guns.”
Tanner ran his hand over his head. “Shit! I just knew it was somethin’. I had a fuckin’ feelin’.”
“You still got contact with whoever helps you get info on the inside?” Ky asked Tanner, finally pushing his anger aside and getting down to business.
Tanner paused, then said, “Yeah. I think so. It’s gettin’ harder to get help, but yeah.”
“Can you get them to check all this shit is true? Or if the fake prophet here is just spittin’ shit?”
Tanner nodded. Just as he turned to leave the barn, Rider said, “The Klan have someone in the commune, in the inner circle. He’s watching my twin to make sure he’s not fucking up their arms deal and . . . other business they do.” My eyebrows rose. I had no idea what other business the Klan did, but if all this was true, we’d be finding the fuck out.
Tanner spun around and glared at Rider. “Who? What’s his name?”
Rider shrugged. “All I know is that he’s all tatted up like you, swastikas and shit. No hair . . . and he’s getting everyone in the commune to call him Meister.”
I frowned at that fucking useless tidbit of information. But when I looked at Tanner, his face had drained of blood. “Christ,” he said and met my eyes. “That’s not good, Prez. That’s not good at all. Meister’s a fuckin’ grade-A cunt. And he’s fuckin’ tapped in the head. Like, never-comin’-back-from-that-crazy-shit tapped.”
“If he’s stocked the cult freaks with guns, there’ll no doubt be automatics, semi-automatics, sub-machine guns, and all that fun stuff,” Tank said to Tanner’s nodding head.