Page 40 of Jerry's Passion (Insurgents MC Romance)
“It’s time to teach you young boys some respect,” Banger said before his fist landed in the tall man’s gut. He groaned and fell to his knees. In one fell swoop, the Insurgents were on them, showing no mercy. For ten minutes, the lives of the three Skull Crushers were pummeled, kicked, and stabbed out of them… until they were no more.
Jerry wiped a bloodied knife on his black skull bandanna, stuffing the blade in his boot and the kerchief in his cut’s inside pocket. Banger came up to him. “We’re taking the bodies to the hole.”
“I thought you wanted me to make sure nothing was left.”
“Bear is gonna stick with the prospects and make sure the bleach and peroxide wipe out all traces. I need you back at the hole. You’re pretty handy with a chainsaw.” Jerry chuckled, and Banger clapped his hand on his shoulder then walked away.
Puck, Johnnie, and Blade silently stood back, holding large containers of both bleach and peroxide. Jerry nodded to them and walked to the end of the alley, then jumped into Axe’s SUV. No one rode their Harleys because the noise of their cams would’ve sounded like a thunderstorm. They preferred to operate in the stillness of inky black nights, like all outlaw MCs did.
Rock, Bruiser, Axe, Throttle, Rags, and Jax threw the battered bodies of the former Skull Crushers MC on the floor of the hole. The Insurgents had constructed it many years before, a concrete room built under the barn on their property. It was where people who messed with them met painful deaths, and where bodies were dismembered to make burial, cremation, and annihilation easier.
Against the thick walls, steel tables decked out with knives of varying sizes and various tools of torture lined the room. Above some of the tables, chainsaws hung on hooks mounted on the walls. A pulley suspended above a steel beam was used for various forms of “persuasion.”
“Give me their wallets,” Banger said gruffly. “I’m gonna send them as a reminder to their fucking president not to fuck around in Insurgents’ territory. I should send him their hands, but it gets to be too damned messy.” The brothers in the room chuckled along with their president. Banger nodded at Jerry. “You know what to do.” Holding the bloodstained wallets, he walked out with Hawk, closing the steel door behind them.
Jerry took down a chainsaw, placed it between his legs, and pulled on the starter rope a couple times. The saw jumped to life, and the whirring buzz bounced off the walls. Dropping to his knees, he began the arduous task of cutting up a human body. Rock and Throttle each grabbed a chainsaw, and soon the hole was filled with the roar of the spinning saw blades as they cut through fibrous tissue, fat, and bone, splattering blood against the gray walls and floor. Once the job was done, all the brothers in the room picked up the body parts and dumped them in a large machine against the back wall of a small room attached to the hole. The room resembled a large walk-in closet. The machine looked like an enormous pressure cooker, and the boiling lye would dissolve the bodies, leaving the liquefied remains which could be poured down a drain. A perforated basket caught any small bone fragments that remained, which were crushed into a fine, white powder and scattered. The Insurgents preferred to keep the law out of their club business, so lye was the preferred choice for disposing bodies. It was easily purchased without any questions asked, whereas strong acids were closely monitored due to their use in bomb-making.
Three hours later, the men exited the hole as three prospects entered, ready to clean up all traces of blood. After the lye cooled, the fragments would be crushed, and all physical presence of the three young Skull Crushers would be blown away.
Covered in blood, Jerry went to his old room in the basement of the clubhouse and jumped in the shower, scrubbing the now-black blood from under his nails. His clothes would be burned along with the other brothers’, and he was glad he hadn’t worn the AC/DC shirt he’d bought the previous year at the band’s concert in Denver. It was one of his favorite band T-shirts.
Fresh and clean, he slipped on a black T-shirt that molded around his chiseled chest, blue jeans, his cut, and another pair of biker boots. Putting on his silver earrings—a small hoop, a knife with a black crystal handle, and a skull—he combed his hair and ambled out of the room, the party sounds from the great room filling his ears.
When he entered the hub, he headed straight for the bar, thirsty for some whiskey neat. He stopped and chatted with some of the brothers from the Wyoming chapter who were passing through on their way to a charity run in Utah. They’d spend a few days at the national club then head over the Rockies into Utah. Jerry hadn’t seen many of them since the previous summer’s Sturgis. A couple of them were busy with some hot-looking hoodrats, so Jerry decided to talk to them later in the night.
He leaned against the bar and swirled the amber liquid in his glass, breathing in its woodsy scent that only came from seven years in an oak barrel. He took a sip, savoring the light scorch on his tongue and the smoky taste as it hit the back of his throat, warming it as it slid down to his stomach, the heat spreading all over.Fuck, that’s good.His goal that night was to get good and drunk. The moments he’d spent with Kylie were on fucking replay in his mind, and the only way he knew how to stop them was to get plastered. He ordered two more double shots and a couple of beers. It was a start.
“You wanna have some fun tonight?” Rock asked as the muscular Sergeant-At-Arms sidled next to him. “I got my eye on a hot-as-fuck brunette, and she’s with a blonde friend who’s busting out at the seams. I thought we could have some fun with them. I know you like blondies, and it’d be fun to share. It’s been a while since we did that.” Rock threw back his tequila shot. “There they are.” He pointed to two women, who kept throwing glances their way. “What do you think?”
Any man would think the two women were hot with their barely there tops and tight-as-hell skirts, the curve of their rounded asses peeking out, but Jerry wasn’t interested in anything more than looking at them. “Not feeling it,” he said to Rock.
“Why the fuck not? Don’t you think they’re delicious?” Whenever Rock was drunk or horny, his Cajun accent became thicker. “And the blondie, she’s your type,non?”
No. Kylie’s my type.“Just wanna drink and zone out tonight.” Jerry saw Throttle smoking a joint a few feet away. He whistled, and the biker turned his head. Jerry waved him over.
“What’s happening?” Throttle asked.
“Rock wants to bury his dick in a pair of hot babes, but he wants a buddy along to join in on the fun. You in?”
Throttle scratched his chin. “I got a bitch whose pussy I’m aiming for. She’s taking a piss.”
“Bring her along.” Jerry threw back his shot and motioned to Puck to give him another.
“So the three of us and the three babes?”
“Jerry’s only zoning tonight,” Rock said, raising one of his shoulders.
“What the fuck does that mean?” Throttle stared at Jerry.
“Means I’m not into fucking right now.”
“You shittin’us?” Throttle narrowed his eyes. “What’s going on with you? You got some secret babe stashed somewhere? You know, Axe acted like this when he was banging Baylee on the side before any of us knew about her. Lately, you’ve been pretty low-key with the club whores.”
“It’s not like that. Just tired and want to zone. Do you wanna join Rock or not?”
Throttle tilted his head back and stared at Jerry as though he were studying him, then he said, “Where’re the women?”
Rock laughed. “The one shaking her big tits on the table is the brunette. She’s mine for the first round, and the blondie with the perky tits is her friend.”
