Changing Lanes by Colbie Kay

Author:Colbie Kay [Kay, Colbie]
Language: eng
Format: epub
Published: 2018-04-29T18:30:00+00:00

When the door shuts Hanger’s attention is solely focused on me. “You got somethin’ you wanna tell me?”

“Nope.” I keep my face expressionless.

“Jenkins came by here yesterday. Said someone by the name of Dennis Yearly is missing and you’re the prime suspect.” Fuck! “Be straight with me, Hacker, did you do somethin’?”

“Yeah.” I can’t keep lying to one of my brothers, especially my President.

His brows pull down. “Why didn’t you tell me?”

“’Cause I don’t want the club goin’ down for my problem. This is my shit to deal with.”

“Did you kill him?”

“Not yet.”

“Where’s he at.”

“In the cellar.” We go back and forth with quick questions and answers. Our eyes stay glued on each other.

Hanger hits his fist on the table. “Fuck, Hacker! Okay, we need to deal with him.”

“No!” I interrupt. “I’m doing this alone. I’ll deal with him. If I go down for this, I go alone.”

“That’s not how we work and you fuckin’ know it. Jenkins is supposed to be giving them a different lead and steering them away from you. You fucked up not covering all your tracks.”

“Thanks for talkin’ to Jenkins.”

“Don’t thank me. He took your family. I’m your brother and President, so I’m going to protect you; I’m going to help you kill the motherfucker and dispose of his body.”

I stand from the table. “Let’s go, then.”

We leave Hanger’s office, go to the bar where he grabs a few bottles of liquor, then walk out of the clubhouse, and go outside. Hanger waits by the cellar door while I walk to the garage. I find a spare car tire, matches, and a can of gas then walk back to the cellar.

I’ve left this bastard down here for the last week without food, water, and light, depriving him and weakening his state. Hanger uses his key to unlock the room door. We step inside and I pull the string to turn on the hanging overhead light. Dennis blinks rapidly before covering his eyes.

Hanger lays the bottles of liquor down, grabs his ankles, and yanks him off the filthy cot. Hanger holds his arms and legs down. Dennis tries to fight, but he’s not strong enough. “Let me go!” he screams.

I pick up a bottle, open it, and kneel at Dennis’s head, plugging his nose with one hand. He can’t breathe without opening his mouth, so when he does, I begin pouring the alcohol down his throat. He turns his head side to side quickly, but I follow his path and continue pouring. He spits and splutters, alcohol splashing over his face. When the bottle empties I unplug his nose, only giving him a short time to breathe. I get the second bottle open. “Please stop!” he begs.

I repeat the process with the second and third bottles. When the last drop hits his mouth, he turns his head, coughing, spitting more out, and vomiting.

Hanger grabs him by his arms and pulls him up into a sitting position. “Get the rope out there,” he tells me. I go get it and throw it to Hanger.

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