Page 50 of Wheelie's Challenge
Wheelie, Throttle, Puck, and Animal laughed. “Yeah, right,” Animal said.
“You can fix her fuckin’ door,” Wheelie said to Smokey. “Let’s get this shit over with.” Wheelie walked slowly toward the room, his eyes scanning the deserted parking lot. Judy had told Smokey the motel had no vacancy, and Wheelie was glad that it was early enough that the other guests—most likely tourists, were still exploring the town and the surrounding areas.
The door muffled deep grunts and moans from inside the room. At first Wheelie thought the bastard had a woman with him, but Puck shook his head indicating he hadn’t seen anyone enter the room. Loud squealing and breathlessness could be heard—“Ooooh, you’re so big. Put that huge cock in me. Yes! Yes!”—as it filtered under the crack in the door.
The asshole’s jerking off to porn.Wheelie grabbed the key from Smokey. There was no way the douchebag was going to hear the click of the lock. Wheelie inserted the key and quietly turned it. With one hand he grasped the knob, and with the other, he raised his fingers:one…two…three. The door opened with only the slightest creak, but the hired killer didn’t hear it. He had his eyes glued to the screen, grunting and sweating and forcefully going at his dick while watching a man pummel a woman’s ass.
Animal went over to the television and turned it off. The man’s hand dropped down on the mattress, and his eyes bugged out as confusion spread over his face.
Puck closed the door, cutting off the sunshine that had spilled into the room a few seconds before.
Standing right beside the bed, Wheelie bent down and slid his hand under the pillow and retrieved a 9mm Glock. Pointing it at the man with the now flaccid dick, Wheelie sneered. “I heard you’ve been looking for me.”
Tucker’s eyes darted to each of the looming men then they fixed on Wheelie. “No, I think you’re mistaken.” He tried to get up, but Wheelie pushed him back down on the mattress and pillows.
“Cut the bullshit. Who hired you?”
“I don’t know what you’re talking about.”
Throttle came over with a pair of pliers. “We don’t have time for this fuckin’ shit. Each lie you tell, you lose a tooth. Seems fair.”
“Seems fair to me too,” Puck said as he came over to the other side of Tucker and grabbed his arm.
Animal pinned down the man’s other arm and Throttle straddled him. “Let’s try this again. My brother is asking who the fuck hired you.”
Glancing at the pliers, Tucker tried to pull away but Puck and Animal had him in a strong hold.
“Open his mouth,” Throttle said.
Smokey hit Tucker in the balls as the man gasped then grabbed hold of his upper and lower lips and held them open. “Do what you gotta do, dude.”
Throttle came in close, the pliers opening as they went toward Tucker’s mouth. The man thrashed his head as low guttural sounds came from his throat.
“Sounds like the sonofabitch is trying to tell you something,” Wheelie said to Throttle.
Smokey let the hired killer’s mouth close. “What the fuck are you trying to say?” He clutched the man’s chin hard in his hand.
“We can work something out here. I just needed the money. I don’t have anything against you,” he caught Wheelie’s gaze. “I know you want him dead just as much as he wants you dead, so I can work for you.”
“Who’re you talking about?” Wheelie already knew the answer, but he wanted to hear the fucker say it.
“Russ Elmore. I met him in San Quentin. I know he killed your sister. I never went for that. I’m not into hurting women. A lot of the men weren’t, and he got his ass beat plenty. I can work for you.”
“Where’s Elmore now?” Wheelie still had the gun pointed at the bastard.
“San Diego. He’s shacking up with some bitch who is paying for everything. She thinks I’m his business partner and we’re opening an online store. He’s just using her.”
“How much are you getting?” Throttle asked.
“Twenty grand,” the man said.
Wheelie shook his head. “Fuck, is that all I’m worth?” The other men guffawed and Tucker joined them. Wheelie wanted nothing more than to pistol whip the asshole, but he didn’t want to leave any marks on the man’s body; it had to look like Tucker offed himself.
“When’s the last time you spoke to him?” Smokey asked.
“Last night. He was pretty pissed that I hadn’t found you yet.”
“I bet he was. I’d be pissed too if I paid a guy and all he did was jerk off to some cheesy motel porn instead of doing his job.”
