The Biker's Fate Chapter 704

"Aw, shit," Cash growled.

Hatch squeezed Cash's shoulder. "I hope your pain tolerance is good, because the only pain killers I've got in that kit are two mini fridge bottles of bourbon, and one of those is for me so I don't shake while I'm stitching you up."

"Oh, great," Cash grumbled.

"I'm just fucking with you, Cash. Both bottles of bourbon are for me."

Stopping to grab the bikes, we followed instructions sent to us by Sundance to a secluded hunting shack in the nearby Napa Springs Wildlife Management Area. A place he'd used before that was just perfect for our current needs.

Once we arrived and made our way inside the cabin, we found the sturdiest chair in the place and tied Cupid to it. I then removed his hood and gag. To no one's surprise, he started shooting his mouth off as soon as we did.

"You motherfuckers have made a big mistake," he said, trying but failing to hide the fear in his voice. "You have no idea who you're fucking with."

"No, we haven't, and yes we do," I replied. "We know exactly who you are as well as the racist assholes you ride with. We also know the crimes you're guilty of, so we're not gonna spend any more time dicking around. Besides, who you are isn't nearly as important as who we are and who we represent."

Cupid squinted, reading my patch. "Dogs of Fire? I never heard of your club. Who the fuck are you?"

"We're a friendly, community club from your neighbors to the west. We enjoy long rides, craft beers, and rounding up escaped rapists and murders."

"Is that what this is?" Cupid asked. "What, are you guys like some sort of vigilante group. Like some sort of neighborhood watch MC? Are you gonna turn me into the cops for a reward? Is that it?"

"Boy, you skinhead Nazi fuckfaces really are dumb aren't you," I asked, smacking Cupid upside his shaved head. "If we wanted the cops to have you, we would have driven you to the nearest police station. Instead, we've taken you to a nice, secluded hunting cabin in the middle of the woods so no one can hear your screams."

"What the fuck do you guys want, huh? Who the fuck are you?"

"I told you. We're the ones who are going to balance the scales of justice. We represent a young woman who you drugged and raped a number of years ago at a college frat party."

"What are you talking about? You fuckin kidnapped me because of some college chick I fucked back in the day?"

I hit Cupid with a solid blow, directly to the face, completely smashing his nose. "You motherfucker," he groaned as blood gushed from his face like an open faucet.

"She's not some chick. Her name is Waverly, and you drugged and raped her. You and your recently emasculated sicko partner, Boneyard."

"You were the ones who cut off Boneyard's dick?"

"I can't say we had the pleasure, but here we are with you now and who knows where the night will take us?"

"You touch me again and you're dead, all of you. My boys will kill every single one of your members and your fucking families, too. Do you hear me?"

"Let me see," I said before landing another short, sharp, punch right to his already broken nose. And while I felt zero pity for Cupid, I did appreciate the amount of pain that must have caused him. It was a moment I'd remind myself of whenever Waverly was triggered by something or struggling with her emotions due to what he did to her. I'd remember how good it felt to connect with his face, and the length of time after I hit him before he was even able to cry out in pain.

"Damn, son. That looked like it hurt," I said, taunting him as his face began to swell up like a tomato.

Once able to speak again Cupid pleaded, "If you let me go I can get you money."

"Again, if we wanted money, we would have taken you to an ATM. We're here to do what the cops and prison guards couldn't do. We found you, now we're going to make you suffer like you made your victims suffer. Then, once we've beaten you nearly to death, we're gonna put you inside a hole where no one will ever find you."

"Bullshit," Cupid said, spitting blood onto the plank floorboards. "I don't see diamonds on your patches."

"And lucky for you, I promised someone I love I wouldn't do anything to earn one tonight."

Flea stepped forward, donning a pair of brass knuckles. "But that doesn't mean we can't drag you to death's door."

"Fuck you. You don't scare me," Cupid replied.

I laughed. "I haven't even told you the scary part yet. Us beating you until you're reduced do hamburger meat is merely the opening act. The headliner is our friend, agent Jaxon Quinn, who's currently en route and should be landing at Magic Valley Regional Airport."

"He's flying in on one of the FBI's Gulfstream G550s," Hatch said. "On account of the fact that he's with the FBI."

"So, fucking what? The FBI is always involved with escaped convict cases. They'll throw me back in jail with some added time and I'll get out when I beat the case at trial."

I shook my head. "Agent Quinn isn't coming to take you back to prison."

"Then where the fuck does he think he's taking me?"