Hung (Selected Sinners MC #4) (19 page)

KAT

Kyle had beaten me the night before. Whether I had a concussion, was knocked unconscious, or he had merely beaten me into a state of mental incompetence, I didn’t wake up until the next morning.

When I woke up he was asleep. While I gathered my things and attempted to get cleaned up, he got up and apologized - blaming his drunkenness for the beating. When I explained I was leaving, he laughed - saying I was sure to return. The look on his face as I walked out the door was one of worry and possibly shame. As I drove from his house in the country to my apartment in Winfield, I decided I never wanted to see him again no matter what the circumstances.

Having lived in Winfield for just shy of four years, I had seen the Sinners on many occasions. More frequently, I had
heard
them. Living almost a mile from their clubhouse, I could still hear them when large groups rode in and out of their parking lot. Several times over the years, when I was eating pizza or having a beer at the little bar by the college, the hair on the back of my neck would raise as the sound of them riding by would fill the air. Hearing them several seconds before they appeared did very little to prepare me for the sound of their passing by, nothing on this earth sounds like a dozen Harley-Davidson’s with loud pipes.

Nothing short of a tornado.

Or maybe the rapture.

As the windows of my house began to shake, the sound of the motorcycles in the parking lot became more and more prominent. The unmistakable rumble of them circling the lot and coming to my building provided me with a feeling of relief I had waited almost twelve hours to feel.

The pounding on the door startled me.

I peeked through the peephole. Daltons beard filled the viewport.

I dropped the knife on the floor and opened the door.

As the door opened, he gasped. He tried to mask it, hide it, and act like he wasn’t startled by my looks, but I noticed. The look on his face did little to disguise how he truly felt. His eyes conveyed love while his face was unmistakably washed with anger.

“Bad huh?” I asked.

“Not bad at all,” he lied.

“You look great, Kat. He ain’t here is he?” he asked as he peered over my shoulder and inhaled a deep breath.

I shook my head.

“You’re a shitty liar, I look like ass. And the asshole is probably at home. He took the day off work. I think he’s afraid you’re coming,” I said.

“Where’s he stay?” he asked through his teeth as he studied my face.

“Halfway between here and Wichita. Maybe ten minutes away, I don’t know. Up by Udall,” I shrugged.

He held my chin in his hand. As he lifted his hand slightly and tilted my head back, he fixed his eyes on mine, “Where
specifically
does he stay, Kat? I need to know.”

“First house south of Udall on the east side of the street. It’s back away from the road by the river. His name’s on the box, Kyle Coffman,” I responded.

After a moment, he inhaled a deep breath and glanced upward. As he shifted his eyes downward, he reached out, exhaled, and wrapped his arms around me. While he held me in his arms I felt his body shaking.

“This’ll never happen again,” he sighed into my ear.

“Grab anything you think you’ll need,” he said as he released me.

I lifted my shoulder and patted my purse with my hand, “This is it.”

“Need me to carry you?” he asked as he looked down the length of the landing nervously.

“I’m a big girl, I’ll be fine. Hell, he didn’t break my legs - or my pride for that matter,” I said as I stepped in front of him and locked the door.

We walked down the stairs side by side, with his arm over my shoulder. Even so, I felt slightly nervous and slightly apprehensive.

As I stepped off the bottom landing and into the parking lot, I gasped at what I saw. Three men, all tattooed, massive, wearing cuts and covered with muscles, stood beside their motorcycles with their arms crossed in front of their chests.

My protectors.

Seeing them caused my heart to begin to pound in my chest so hard I felt it in my throat.

“Don’t wanna take her to my house just yet, Boss. I’m gonna need to see if she can stay in the shop for a bit. I gotta go take care of this,” Dalton said as we stepped past the men and toward his bike.

Although I attempted not to face the men for no other reason than embarrassment, the one with a few days growth of beard and one hell of an expressed attitude reached out and held my shoulder. He was a massive man with huge arms, a wide chest, and shorter brown hair that was slightly curly.

“Turn around for me, Kat,” he said.

His voice sounded like what I would expect a bear to sound like - if a bear could speak. I stopped and reluctantly turned to face him.

His cut had a patch on it that said
President
. Knowing what I knew about Avery, I realized this was her boyfriend, Axton – who went by the club name
Slice
. From what she had shared with me, he was not a man anyone should ever fuck with. As I stood staring down at the parking lot, embarrassed to look up, he lowered his head and gazed up at my face. After a very audible sigh he released my shoulder.

“Bylaws say she can stay there
without
your approval if you’ve got your name marked on the board with an “X”, and you don’t. Other than that, she can only stay
with
your approval if she’s your Ol’ Lady. Didn’t write them, brother, but I’ve got to enforce them,” Axton responded.

“She’s my Ol’ Lady, mark it on the board if you got to, I don’t give a fuck,” Dalton growled.

My heart immediately swelled to ten times its size. I swallowed heavily and turned toward Axton. He uncrossed his arms and turned toward the remaining two men. As he exchanged glances with them it was almost as if they were speaking without speaking. The message was clear. Axton had business to take care of and the other two men were agreeing.

“Fellas,” Axton sighed.

“You heard the man,” The dark skinned one with jet black hair and a buzz-cut said as he turned toward his bike and nodded his head.

“Biscuit, you trust me?” the muscular tattooed man asked as he stepped over the seat of his bike.

He was covered in muscles, tattoos, and looked like he just got out of prison. The patch on his cut said
Big Jack
. His hair was blonde and cut short, but not as short as the one with black hair.

“You’re a fuckin’ Sinner, ain’t ya,” Dalton said over his shoulder as he climbed onto his seat.

“Let
me
take her to the shop. You fellas go take care of business,” Big Jack said.

Dalton glanced at me. I shrugged my shoulders.

“I got to do this, Kat,” Dalton sighed.

To my rear, it sounded like Axton was growling. The dark skinned man was mumbling audibly. Although I couldn’t make out everything he said I heard portions. It was apparent he was so angry with what Kyle had done to me he was mumbling his intentions under his breath.

“You’re going to cut off his hands?” I asked Dalton sheepishly, remembering what he had said to Kyle the day he slapped me.

He shook his head and gazed down at the parking lot.

As he glanced upward and met my gaze, he responded, “Afraid it ain’t gonna be that simple.”

I don’t even want to know.

I nodded my head, “I’ll ride with him. You’re going to come back for me, right?”

“You’ve got my word,” he said under his breath.

I pursed my lips, did my best not to start crying, and nodded my head.

Dalton raised his hand in the air and spun it in a circle, “Let’s roll!”

As the three of them sped out of the lot, I was scared, relieved, and a little curious.

Whatever Kyle received in punishment wouldn’t be enough.

“He’ll be back, don’t worry. I’m Big Jack,” the man on the motorcycle said as he stepped off and extended his hand.

“Kat,” I said as I shook his hand.

“Nothing’ll happen to you from here on out, least not on my watch,” he said in a low rumble.

“Thank you,” I sighed.

“Ready?” he asked.

I nodded my head, “Yep.”

As I got on the bike he tilted his head to the side, “Got a first-aid kit in the shop. While we’re waiting on the fellas, I’ll get you doctored up and looking like new.”

“Miracle worker?” I asked.

“According to some,” he chuckled.

Angels in Selected Sinners cuts is more like it.

He released the clutch and slowly started to pull out of the lot. As I reached around his mid-section and pressed my shaking hands against his stomach, I began to believe all of the Selected Sinners were just that.

Protective angels.

BISCUIT

Maintaining a clear state of mind during stressful times had always been one of my strengths. Similar to an experienced combat veteran, stepping into a dangerous situation, confrontation, or walking right into the middle of a fight never bothered me. I realized I wasn’t invincible, but I knew I was pretty god damned close. As we rode in Tater’s truck along the back side of the river I wasn’t nervous - and I damned sure wasn’t scared - but a clear state of mind wasn’t something I possessed.

Toad immediately went into full U.S. Marine mode and directed our approach to the house as if it were a military operation. We followed a line of trees along the south side of the home, as the south side had only one small window – more than likely a bathroom – and was the least probable to be occupied. The three of us were armed with handguns, and Tater remained with the truck along the river. After agreeing we wouldn’t break the doors down unless we had to, Toad low-crawled toward the back door as Axton and I remained crouched along the south side of the house.

After reaching for the door handle and attempting to open it, he gazed in our direction and shook his head.

Fuck.

Half way back to where we were positioned on the south side of the house, Toad stopped, tilted his head to the side, and raised clenched fist. As he appeared to be listening to something, Axton and I exchanged awkward glances. As Toad rose into a low crouch I turned to face Axton.

“What the fuck is he doing?” I whispered.

Axton shrugged his shoulders.

And Toad disappeared toward the front of the house.

“Fuck,” Axton sighed.

“What do we do?” I asked.

“Hold tight,” Axton whispered.

“Fuck that,” I responded.

Axton narrowed his gaze and clenched his jaw muscles, “He told us to hold tight. Hold tight. He’s got about ten years of experience doing this shit on a daily basis, we’ll follow his lead.”

Axton no more than finished speaking, and the sound of Toad whistling came from the front of the house.

Axton stood. Somewhat reluctantly, I stood.

“All clear,” Axton said as he began to walk around the rear of the home.

I wrinkled my nose slightly and tilted my head his direction, “You two do this shit all the fuckin’ time?”

Axton grinned his shitty little grin.

As we came around the front of the house I immediately noticed the garage door was open. It was closed when we had driven past the home the first time. Although Toad wasn’t immediately visible, as we stepped into the garage, he was.

He had Kyle in a Marine choke hold, and was grinning from ear to ear.

“Fucker was trying to get in his truck and get out of here,” Toad grunted.

“You motherfucker, I’m going to kill you,” I seethed, “Can he hear me?”

“He can hear you just fine. Can’t respond though,” he said.

“Let him go,” I growled as I stepped toward the driveway and started to peel off my ridiculous rubber gloves Toad had made us wear.

“We already talked about this, and leave those god damned gloves on,” Axton snapped back as he turned to face me.

We had discussed all of the possibilities Toad could come up with for capturing Kyle, and lightly covered what we intended to do with him after we caught him. Although I agreed at the time not to beat Kyle – primarily to shut Axton up – honoring the agreement wasn’t easy. 

“I took a Beretta nine from him when I grabbed him. Think he knew we were coming,” Toad said over Kyle’s shoulder as he tilted his head toward the front of the truck.

“Devil looks after his own, it’ll save us from searching for one,” Axton said as he walked toward Toad.

“Biscuit, shut the garage door,” Axton said flatly.

“Toad, drag his ass in the house. Take him to his bedroom,” Axton said as he bent over to pick up the pistol.

Toad walked backward toward the door that led into the house. Still fuming with anger about what Kyle did to Kat, I followed close behind, and shut the garage door with the wall mounted button as I stepped into the threshold of the door. .

A quick search of the house by Axton revealed two bedrooms, one with a bed and one full of weight lifting equipment. Toad drug Kyle into the room with a bed while I followed. As Toad rolled onto the bed with Kyle in his arms, Axton bent over and grabbed a pillow.

“We’re going to need to fire two rounds…”Axton began.

“Nope, just tell me when you’re ready,” Toad grunted.

Axton narrowed his eyes and glared at Toad, “He’s got to have residue on his hands.”

Toad nodded his head, “He will. Just tell me when you’re ready.”

“Got anything you want to say to him?” Axton asked as he turned to face me, handing me the pillow.

Faking a suicide wasn’t near as satisfying to me as beating Kyle to death with my bare hands. For me to beat him and
not
beat him to death would have probably been impossible. According to Toad and Axton, beating him would have left my DNA all over his body, and eventually I would have been caught. Even in my state of mind, what they said made perfect sense. So far, as we were all wearing rubber gloves and stocking caps, leaving our DNA at the scene wasn’t impossible, but it was far from probable.

Kyle’s eyes were wide and bulging as Toad continued to squeeze him in the chokehold. I stared at him blankly as his face contorted with each movement on Toad’s part. As much as I felt I needed to say, I didn’t want to give Kyle any satisfaction knowing how I felt, nor did I want to allow him to understand he played a part in causing me to feel the grief that filled as a result of what he had done to Kat.

I clenched my jaw and alternated glances between Axton and Toad, “Nope. How’s this work?”

“I’m going to knock him unconscious. It’ll last about ten or fifteen seconds. You cover his face with a pillow, wrap his hand around the weapon, and use
his
finger to pull the trigger. Your gloves aren’t torn are they?” he asked.

I glanced down at my hands and inspected my gloves. I shifted my eyes toward Toad and shook my head. Axton slid the slide on the pistol rearward slightly, checked the breech for a round, nodded his head, and handed it to me.

“It’s ready,” he said.

Toad positioned himself on the side of the bed, holding Kyle in front of him with his legs dangling over the edge of the bed. In this position, it would appear to any investigator that Kyle regretted what he had done, sat in the edge of his bed, covered his face with a pillow, and shot himself.

His fingerprints would be on the weapon, the weapon was his personal Beretta, and his hand would be covered in the residue from firing the gun. 

A simple suicide.

I glanced toward Toad, gripped the pistol in my hand, and nodded my head once.

In a blur of a movement, Toad released Kyle from the chokehold and immediately struck him sharply in the neck with the back of his palm. Kyle collapsed onto the bed. Quickly, Toad shifted onto his back and held Kyle upright by his lower back as he lay behind him.

“Hurry the fuck up,” Toad howled.

As I pressed the pillow into Kyle’s face Axton reached around me and held it in place. I grabbed Kyle’s limp arm and attempting to position his finger through the trigger guard of the pistol. After a few seconds of awkward fumbling, I held his hand in mine. I twisted his arm into place, pressing the pistol into the pillow and against his face.

While trying to make sense of it all in my head, Kyle began to regain consciousness. Nervously, I clenched his hand in mine, pressed against his finger, and waited.

The sound of the pistol firing was almost deafening. As much as I had fired guns at various objects and in multiple situations, I had never fired one in the confines of a bedroom. As my ears rang and the taste of cordite filled the air, Toad rolled to the side and Kyle slumped onto the bed.

“Don’t touch anything. Leave him lay there as natural as possible,” Toad said as he jumped from the bed.

Toad began to brush the imperfections from the comforter with a decorative pillow.

I gazed at him slightly confused and a little uneasy about everything. Beating the life out of Kyle seemed a natural choice to me, and shooting him - now that it was over with - seemed instantaneous, permanent, and almost criminal.

I would have never guessed a feeling other than satisfaction would have filled me, but I was wrong. Although I wasn’t remorseful about what we had done, it was apparent part of me regretted the manner we chose to do it.

After smoothing the comforter free of all of the wrinkles except the ones Kyle’s limp body created, Toad clutched the decorative pillow in his arms - leaving the one with the bullet hole on the bed - and turned toward the door.

“You alright, Brother?” Axton asked as he patted me on the shoulder.

I nodded my head.

With each step we took toward the river, I became more at peace with shooting Kyle. Although ridding this earth of Kyle wasn’t necessarily my responsibility - or anyone’s for that matter - doing so prevented him from repeating what he had done to Kat with anyone else. It also eliminated the possibility of him raising a child in the same atmosphere I was raised in. As we approached the truck, I wondered what my life would have been like if my father would have been absent throughout my childhood.

The thought of growing up without my father in my life satisfied me completely, further convincing me what happened to Kyle was ultimately what needed to happen exactly when it needed to happen. As I gazed down at the riverbank, Axton gripped my shoulder.

“You getting in?” he asked.

I nodded my head toward the river and sighed.

“We’re telling her he wasn’t home, right?” I asked over my shoulder as I slid into the front seat of the truck.

“We came here and he wasn’t home. What happened today stays here, with us. And this is the last we’ll discuss it,” Axton responded.

I sat quietly and gazed through the windshield as Tater drove along the edge of the river and toward the county road. As I considered exactly what we had done, I realized completely it wasn’t Axton’s or Toad’s first effort. The precautionary steps that were taken, the pillow, lack of DNA and fingerprints – even the smoothing of the bed with the pillow…

I glanced over my shoulder.

The pillow Toad had used was positioned between them in the rear seat.

I shifted my eyes to the windshield and gazed with unfocused eyes as the trees lining the edge of the river passed us, wondering just how many people the Selected Sinners had eliminated from the bowels of society.

And what a fractionally better place the world was as a result.