Journey (Soulless Kings MC: Marble Falls, TX #2)

5. Journey

CHAPTER 5

JOURNEY

I’m stubborn and won’t stop.

“P-p-please don’t k-kill me.”

I glance at Poker, the club’s enforcer, and the excitement on his face rivals my own. We’ve had Niles, a piece of shit gun for hire, in the Nightmare Room for a few hours now, but he has yet to tell us what we want to hear.

“Oh, we’re not gonna kill you,” I tell him. “Yet.”

“Shit, maybe we’ll spare your life completely,” Poker adds. “But first, tell us who hired you.”

“I already tol?—”

My knuckles burn as I deliver another blow to his face. “And we obviously don’t believe you,” I snap.

“But I’m telling the truth,” Niles insists. “It was all anonymous.”

The fact of the matter is, he is being honest, which is odd for such a slimeball. But being honest isn’t going to earn him any points with the Soulless Kings. He tried to run a few of us off the road on our return trip from the conference, and for that alone, he’s a dead man walking.

Unfortunately for Niles, my brothers and I like to play with our prey before destroying them. It’s so much fun to watch them squirm.

“Journey, I think we’re gonna have to step it up a notch,” Poker says, his tone full of anticipation.

I grin at him. “Blowtorch or cattle prod?”

“Why not both?” he counters.

“I like the way you think.”

“Y-you’re insane,” Niles cries. “I can’t t-tell you what I don’t know.”

While Poker gets the tools from the wall, I crouch down in front of Niles. “Here’s the thing, motherfucker… You don’t mess with SKMC and get away with it.”

“No one was hurt,” he says. “Can’t you just let me off with a warning or something?”

I throw my head back and laugh. “A warning?” Glancing over my shoulder, I smirk at Poker. “Did you hear that, bro? He wants us to give him a warning like he’s some kindergartner who made a mess with the finger paints.”

“I heard,” Poker says and walks toward us as he’s turning on the blowtorch. He stops next to me and holds the flame inches from Niles’ hand, which is secured to the chair he’s sitting in. “How’s this for a warning?” He shifts the flame, and the smell of burning flesh permeates the air.

Niles screams like the little bitch he is, but he remains conscious. I guess his balls are slightly bigger than I thought.

I straighten to my full height and take a few steps away from the two of them before crossing my arms over my chest. “Who hired you?” I ask, but Niles only shakes his head, so I nod at Poker. “Again.”

Poker scorches his other hand, and the screams intensify.

“This is gonna keep happening until you talk,” I remind Niles.

“Maybe he needs a little more incentive,” Poker suggests, switching the cattle prod to his dominant hand. He presses the prongs to Niles’ inner thigh, and seconds later, our captive jolts with a scream. “How ‘bout now?”

This goes on for another five minutes before Niles passes out from the pain. Or maybe it’s damage to his heart from all the shocks. Either way, when he’s not screaming, the torture isn’t nearly as fun.

“Now what?” Poker asks me.

I pull my cell out of my back pocket and glance at the time. “End it,” I order. “We didn’t need anything from him anyway, and I’ve got somewhere to be.”

Poker groans. “Please don’t tell me you’re going to that bar again.”

“Fine. I won’t tell you.”

I stride across the room and flatten my palm against the sensor so the door slides open.

“Dude, let it go,” Poker advises from behind me. “No pussy is wor…”

His voice fades as the door closes, and I move down the hall to the stairs that lead to the main level of the clubhouse. I need a shower and a game plan before I head out.

Poker’s not the only brother to give me a hard time about my search for Wren. When I asked Tracer for help, he laughed at me for a solid minute before I punched him in the jaw and demanded he put his tech skills to use. Since I had a first name and an address, it didn’t take Tracer long to track the woman down… Wren Abbott.

Wren has plagued my thoughts and stared in my dreams for two weeks straight. I went back to her apartment a few times because I had to see her, but she was never home. I’ve also been back to the bar where we met, and nothing there either.

But I’m stubborn and won’t stop. I need to see her again, to figure out if our one night together was a fluke or something to be repeated. Problem is, I don’t know which I prefer. I’ve never seen myself as the relationship type, but something about Wren isn’t letting me move on.

“Yo, Journey!”

I veer to the left at Ghost’s shout. “What’s up?” I ask when I reach his side.

“Wanna wingman tonight?”

Narrowing my eyes at him, I ponder his question. I might trust him with my life, but I’m not as confident in his ability to not be a dick.

“Under one condition,” I finally reply.

“What?”

“One joke or punchline at my expense, and I get to take it out on you in the Nightmare Room.”

He chuckles, but there’s more trepidation than humor in the sound. “Deal.”

“Be ready to ride in thirty.”