Page 107 of Kings Have No Mercy
The Hellrazor’sbar looks like a war zone in the aftermath of last night’s confrontation. Glass cracks beneath our steel-toe boots as we venture into the trashed bar. There’re splatters of blood on the walls and broken pieces of tables and chairs everywhere you look. Bullet holes riddle the walls, and you can smell the gun residue in the air.
The cops probably still consider it a crime scene.
Not that we give a fuck. We’re out to find Sydney and willing to do whatever it takes to track her down.
I motion for Ozzie and Bush to go check out the perimeter while Cash and Moses advance toward the back interior.
I stay on the bar floor, studying the wreckage for any clues. Any kinda sign that the Hellrazors would leave behind showing they’ve got something to do with Sydney’s disappearance.
If they do, what we did last night will look like saint’s hour. I’ll slaughter each and every remaining Hellrazor myself.
I hear a creak from behind and spin around with my hand on my piece.
It’s none other than Dirty himself. He looks like shit—eyes rimmed red, nose swollen and lopsided, and his face cut up and bloodied. He’s got his arm in a sling. His other shoots up in the air at the sight of me and my Glock 17.
“You fuckers can’t be back for more trouble already? Half of us are in the ER. The other half is either waiting bail or waiting to be buried! Haven’t you fucked us up enough?” he asks in his raspy voice.
“Sydney,” I say, uninterested in every other word he’s spoken. “What’ve you done with her?”
“Sydney,who?”
“Sydney Singer. Jacob Singer’s adopted daughter. You know who she is. You ran us off the road the other week.”
Dirty’s face scrunches up, his cut up lips parting to reveal a couple missing teeth. “Now you’re just fucking with us to fuck with us. We ain’t run nobody off the fucking road! Least of all, Jacob’s daughter. Why would we treat her like that?”
“You do fucked up shit all the time.”
“For the last time, that wasn’t us! Singer was like a brother to us. A fucking father to some. You’re the ones who offed him. They found your bandana at the crime scene.”
“You’re blaming us for something we had no part in.”
“And you’re not doing the same, asshat? You assholes have been blaming us for shit we ain’t done for weeks now, and I’m sick of it. You come by our territory and ruin our operation. Then you start a brawl and shoot up the place. Any respect between clubs is long gone—”
“You really expect me to believe you’ve had nothing to do with what’s been happening?” I interrupt impatiently. “Then why would you meet up with us and threaten us when I warned you? I told you to stay the fuck away and youlaughed.”
“’Cuz your accusations were dumb as fuck! We thought it was entertaining pissing you off. But it wasn’t ’cuz we were guilty.Youkilled Pop!”
“We had no beef with Jacob Singer,” I growl, drawing my piece and stepping toward him. “You’ve got sixty seconds to spill what the fuck you’ve done with Sydney, or I’m blowing your face off.”
The arm he already has in the air shakes. “We didn’t do shit, I swear to you, asshat!”
“It wasn’t Casper the friendly motherfucking ghost!”
“And it still wasn’t us! What would we gain from taking Sydney?!”
“You tell me!”
“You’re the ones up to no good! I should’ve known as soon as I saw that rotten Velma Disck in town the other day—”
“What’s going on in here?” Bush asks as he and Ozzie return.
Anger heats up on both of their faces at the sight of Dirty, even as bruised and broken as he is. All of us want a piece of him after everything that’s been going on. No other time greater than right now—at a time where Sydney’s missing and Dirty Harry and the Hellrazor’s are suspect number one.
“What’re we waiting for?” Ozzie asks. He pulls out a device that looks like a damn potato peeler. “Let’s skin this fucker alive.”
Ozzie and Bush step toward Dirty and wrestle him toward the bar counter where they lay him out flush against the flat surface. They’re waiting for me to grab the peeler and begin scraping off Dirty’s skin.
I would. I fully intend to… until I get stuck thinking of an answer to Dirty’s question.