“This is the fucker who had a gun to my head three weeks ago outside of Fireside. Roughed him up a bit and warned him. Apparently, he didn’t learn. Coming into my fucking place and disrespecting our club.” I shake my head and move toward Baz. I should have fucking shot him when he threatened me the first time.

“Well, this will be interesting then,” Jesse declares as he pulls up a chair and gets comfortable.

“Wake up, fucker.” I lean down and slap Baz’s face a few times.

“Hmm,” Baz grumbles, his head rolling from side to side, slowly coming to.

“Good morning, sunshine.”

He blinks a few times, taking stock of where he is before he starts to fight his restraints. “What the fuck, man. Let me go.”

“And where would the fun be in that?” A slow smile pulls at my lips watching him realize he’s fucked.

“You will pay for this. I’ll fucking kill you.” He kicks his leg out trying to connect with me, but I step back.

“You’re not smart, Baz, are ya? ‘Cause from where I’m standing, looks like it’s you who’s about to pay.”

“What are you going to do?” His eyes briefly flick in fear before he manages to hide it.

“I don’t know yet. Depends on what info you give me.”

“I don’t have any info for ya.” He shakes his head, not giving in.

“What you doing on our turf?” I ask, keeping it cool to start with.

“Looking for my woman, the one you took from me.”

“You mean the one you beat?”

“I don’t know what you’re talking about. Whatever she told you is a lie. I hardly fucking touched her.” He fights his restraints, but I made sure to secure him good. He’s not going anywhere. At least not until I’m ready to let him go.

“See, the thing is, Baz.” I squat back down, getting to his level. “She didn’t have to tell me anything. I fucking saw her face the day I picked her up.”

“It was an accident,” he blurts, only making it worse for him.

“So, you accidently beat your woman.” I bark a laugh. This guy is a piece of work.

I pull my arm back, making a fist with my hand as I go and let it surge forward, pounding it into his nose. A nice crack rings out before blood flows down over his lip. “Did that seem like an accident?” I taunt, reaching out, pinching his ear between my fingers and twisting it back.

“FUCK!” He screeches, his body twisting to find relief. “You’re fucking dead.” He tries to spit up at me, but misses.

“Now, now. No need for the death threats.” I release his ear, pushing his head back into the shelf with a thud. “Not yet at least. We still have a few things to get through.” I stand and walk toward the tools hanging up on the far right wall.

“W-what are you going to do to me?” His voice trembles as he starts to scramble.

Not so fucking tough now. Just like I thought. A fucking pussy.

“Beau,” Jesse warns as I grab a pair of bolt cutters.

“What? We’re just gonna play one game.”

Jesse curses under his breath knowing what I’m gonna do.

“I wonder if you didn’t have your fingers, would you still be able to accidently beat on a woman’s face again.” I turn back to Baz. A fine sheen of sweat breaks out on his forehead.

“Are you just going to let him cut my fucking fingers off?” Baz looks to Jesse. His plea drips in desperation and fear, and I fucking love it.

“Don’t ask him, asshole. You pissed in his bed.” I squat down and force his face my way.

“I’ll do anything. Anything you say.” I grip his shoulder and pull him forward. “Please, I’m begging you.”

“Does your Prez know you’re here?” He doesn’t answer. His claim to doing anything to get out of this only seconds before was clearly bullshit.

“Which finger do you want the least? I’ll let you choose which one I take.” I reach for his hands not in the mood for his shit.

“NONE! I choose none.” He starts thrashing, but it’s no use. He’s fucked.

“Wrong choice.” With a steady hand, I grab his wrist. His fingers are fisted tight, so I pinch his middle finger and pointer. Digging in, I break them free.

“Does T know you’re here?” I ask again, holding both fingers firmly.

“NO! No one knows I’m here.” I’m not sure I believe him, so I goad him a little more.

“You sure, Baz? ‘Cause it looks like it’s gonna be two for one.” I lower the bolt cutters to just after two of his knuckles.

“I swear, I was told to leave you alone. They’re not interested in finding Sandra. They know I didn’t treat her good.” He starts spilling his guts in an attempt to save his fingers, but little does he know, it’s too fucking late for him. I’m just biding my time.

“How did you get through the alarm?” I ask my second question.

He hesitates, “There was no alarm.”

He’s lying.

“Last chance, Baz.”

“There wasn’t.” He hesitates again, feeding me bullshit.

“Wrong answer.” Slowly but deliberately, I squeeze down. The sickening crunch of flesh, muscle and bones is the only thing I focus on, dulling the harsh shriek of his screams.

“FUCK! No! No! No!” His voice cracks in pain and I push a little harder. I continue to torture him, drawing out more pain, more blood, before crushing them entirely between the metal. The faint thud of his fingers dropping to the concrete ends his torment.

“You fucker!” He starts to rock his body back and forth, over and over again. I reach down, picking up his fingers and wave them in front of his face.

“Oh, shit. That was an accident.” His eyelids flutter three times before his eyes roll back in his head, and then he’s gone.

Out like a light.

“Pansy-ass passed out.” I stand, disappointed my fun is over. Dropping his fingers to his lap, I reach for a rag, wiping the bolt cutters clean.

“You have fucking issues, man. That’s some messed-up shit,” Jesse says, breaking the silence.

“Fucker pissed on your bed, marks me, and beats on his woman, probably in front of their kid. He’ll be lucky if I leave him with a finger to scratch his ass.” I place the bolt cutters back on the workbench as the rumble of a bike pulls into the yard.

Leaving the asshole passed out on the ground, I walk out to meet Nix.

“He get ya good?” He notices my arm first.

“Nah, graze.” I shrug it off.

“Who is he?” He kicks the stand down on his bike and removes his helmet.

“A fucking Warrior,” I fill him in, watching his eyes darken.

Yeah, a Warrior on our turf is serious shit.

“Bypassed the alarm, smashed his way in and ripped the clubhouse apart. Every room.”

“The fuck?” Nix moves away from his bike and toward the shed. “How did he manage to get past the alarm?”

“Didn’t get it out of him. Could have someone working for the security company. Who fucking knows.” We enter the shed, Nix moving toward Baz.

“Jesus, Beau. Tell me he’s alive.” He kicks at Baz’s feet looking for life. He doesn’t stir. Blood pools all around him, his fingers lying on his lap.

“For now.”

“He the only one?”

“That we know of. Cameras will let us know.”

“How much damage he do?”

I look to Jesse allowing him to answer.

“The place is fucked-up, boss. Every room trashed. The fucker even pissed on some beds.”

“Jesus Christ.” He draws a large breath through his nose and lets it out slowly. “I just would like one fuckin’ month where I don’t have to deal with this shit.” He spins and kicks at a crate, sending it flying across the shed.

“You think it’s an attack?” Jesse asks after Nix calms down a little.

“Nah, I believe him. He’s just gone AWOL. He was here on his own. T’s not fucking stupid.” If the Warriors wanted a war, ransacking our clubhouse would be the least of our worries.

“He’s right. This isn’t retaliation. It’s not T’s style anyway,” Nix agrees.

“Well, what do you wanna do with him?” I ask, happy to fuck with him some more.

“Find out how he made it past the security system then get him out of here. I don’t care where you take him, but send his fingers back to his club.” He starts to walk toward the door. “And then I want everyone down here. We’ll need all hands on deck to help clean,” he says before leaving us alone.