Bull (Kings of Mayhem MC 6)

“Who the fuck are you?” he yelled.

Resisting the urge to put a bullet in his brain, I took a step toward him and fixed my eyes to his. He shook with a dangerous mix of agitation and fear. Any second now, this stupid fuck was going to think he could reach for a second gun or weapon he had somewhere in this room.

“I’m the guy who’s going to kill you.”

His eyes widened. “W-what…the…f-fuck?”

The girl on the bed who was now quivering in the corner, started to scream.

Ruger pointed at her. “Get dressed and get the fuck out of here.”

With a terrified whimper, she grabbed a dirty t-shirt off the floor and fled out into the early morning. She wouldn’t raise the alarm. She would run back to whatever flea-bitten hellhole she’d come from and hide until this was over. And from the look of the track marks and scabs all over her skin, the heroin she enjoyed would take her out within the year.

I looked around the room. It smelled sour, like rotting garbage, rancid sheets, and old sex. Cigarette butts floated in near-empty beer bottles, and discarded needles and dope baggies were scattered across the floor. Most likely leftovers from previous occupants…or just from Scud, because I was starting to think that room 17 was his permanent address. Either way, I could guarantee you that cleanliness was not part of the hourly rate at this establishment.

In front of the closet, looking very out of place in the derelict room, was an expensive camera set up on a tripod.

“What do you w-want from me, m-man?” Scud blubbered.

But I ignored the question. “Where is he?”

“Who? I don’t know what is happening…who the fuck are you t-talking about?”

The image of a dying Annie Stonebrook swung before me.

“Your perverted buddy, Gimmel Martel.”

“I don’t know anyone by that name—”

I shoved my gun under his chin. “Don’t waste my time lying. Tell me, and I won’t kill you. Now, one last time. Where the fuck is Gimmel Martel?”

“I-I don’t—”

My knee collected with his now flaccid cock, and he doubled over with a cry.

“Let’s try that again. Where the fuck is Martel hiding?”

“I don’t know, man…all I know is he’s coming to town because he has a shipment arriving.”

I looked at Cade and Ruger.

The motherfucker was still trying to use our untapped interstates for his drug haul. We always knew he would try again. But so far, our intel hadn’t found anything to suggest he had managed to set up his distribution arm again.

Until now.

“What kind of shipment?” Ruger asked.

“I-I don’t know. Coke, maybe? Please, don’t hurt me.”

“When is the shipment due?” I asked.

“I-I don’t know…” Scud was shaking and wouldn’t look me in the eye.

I glanced to the camera on the tripod. Above the pillows, two metal shackles hung from chains nailed into the filthy wall.

“You making him another movie, Scud?”

He finally looked at me, surprised that I knew about his gruesome pastime. “What?”

“I’ve seen your handiwork, Scud. I’ve seen the sick shit you do. Did Martel order another one? Is that what you had planned for Heroin Harriet, that poor girl you were just balls deep in? You going to do psycho shit to her and then snuff her like you snuffed out Annie Stonebrook?”

“I don’t know what y-you’re talkin’ about—”

I put my gun against his temple. “Lie to me again. I dare you.”

“Okay, okay!” He put his hands up in surrender and squeezed his eyes shut. “He ordered one…”

His confirmation was like a nail being dragged down my spine, and I had to bite back my disgust. Every nerve in my body fizzled with anger and repulsion.

“Where were you supposed to deliver it to him?” I turned his chin with the barrel of my gun to make him look at me. “You don’t send something like that to a post office box. Where is the drop-off point?”

“He didn’t tell me!” His eyes slid away from me again, and I pressed my gun deeper into his jaw so he would look at me. “I-I swear…he said to have it ready by the fourteenth, and he would contact me.”

“How?”

“By p-phone!”

Ruger stepped behind him, careful to avoid touching anything, and picked up Scud’s phone from the nightstand. He took a quick look through it.

“There’s no number for Gimmel Martel,” he said.

Scud winced when I pressed my gun deeper into his skin. “He told me to store any contact with him under the n-name Caligula.”

I gave him a pointed look. “Seriously?”

Caligula was a Roman Emperor known for his cruelty and sexual perversion.

Ruger scrolled through the contacts and then nodded at me. “There’s a Caligula in his contacts.” He started looking through the conversation and his face screwed up. “Oh, you sick fuck. You really going to do this to someone?”

“What does it say?” I asked.

“I ain’t repeating this shit. Finish up here and you can read it yourself.” Ruger said as he closed the phone and tucked it into his cut. “I’m gonna need to wash my own mouth out with soap if I read that shit out loud.”