The Diary of Bink Cummings: Vol 3 (MC Chronicles #3) (29 page)

The sounds of brothers yelling back and forth bounce off the hallway walls just as I finish dressing. Exiting Big’s bedroom, I shut the door, leaving it unlocked and waddle my way down the hall toward the common room where all the yelling has ensued.

“Gunz. Outside. Shed. Now!” I hear Big demand.

Which can only mean one thing—Bloodshed. The shed or behind the kennels are where punishments are dealt, with knives, brass knuckles and worse, much much worse.

I move quicker and enter the common room to see Big standing beside the bar, his naked back to me, pointing to the front clubhouse doors. “Now!” he thunders in Gunz’s face.

Gunz shakes his head, disagreeing. “I don’t think that’s a good idea,” he speaks levelly.

“It is,” Big fires back.

Hesitantly, I inch closer. When Viper and Jizz finally see me, they head my way, stopping me in my tracks, away from Big. Big’s in the middle of something heated, something that has Gunz running his hand over his bald head, frowning, eyes clouded with sadness. He yanks a sucker from his cut and shoves it into his mouth, hallowing his cheeks as he sucks powerfully. His eyes survey Big. The room grows quiet, like they’re awaiting Gunz’s final say on the matter at hand, whatever it may be.

Seconds feel like hours, as my heart pounds in my chest, thumping in my ears. Jizz and Viper stand next to me, like my own personal bodyguards. Viper throws an arm over my shoulder.

I don’t know how Big knows, but he does when he commands, “Remove your arm, brother, unless ya want it ripped off,” to Viper, with his back facing us. He’s angry, out of breath. Although I can’t see his face, I’d have to guess he’s sweating too, his eyes demonic. I need to see for myself.

Viper drops his arm, and I step forward. Jizz grabs my shoulder, restraining me. I turn my head to the side and glare at him. I’ve had about enough of this.

“Don’t you touch her either,” Big growls before I get a chance to argue with my brother. Jizz submits, removing his hand while offering me a woeful look.

Shrugging off Jizz’s expression, I go to Big and place my hand on the middle of his back. It’s slick with moisture, and his pulse is racing, pounding against my palm.

“Do you really think this will fix things?” Gunz interrogates, looking to Big then to me and back again.

“I know it has to be done. Nothing can move forward if everyone is livin’ in the past,” Big explains, calmer than I expected.

“What are we talking about?” I interject.

They ignore my question, all of them, and Gunz moves fully into Big’s space. He clamps his hand around Big’s neck and yanks his head down to meet his. Forehead to forehead. “You zoned out last night, brother. You think you can handle this now?” Gunz questions, white sucker stick poking out of the side of his mouth.

Big follows Gunz’s lead and grasps the back of Gunz’s neck in a brotherly way, locking them as one. He nods against Gunz’s forehead. “Yeah, I was exhausted last night. Pretty sure that’s all it was. No sleep for days. Long ridin’. And…well…you know…”

Gunz seems to understand what
‘you know’
actually means when he returns a nod to Big’s forehead. Hate to admit it, but I am fucking clueless as to what’s going on. Except that the shed was mentioned, and that’s a place of torture. Less than five minutes ago, Big was inside me, and now this is going on. I’m having a damn hard time playing catch up. What do you think?

“Do you think she can handle it?” Gunz inquires next, in his strong, you-better-be-fucking-right voice.

By
she,
I’m guessing they’re talking about me in front of me. What am I chopped liver? I am standing right here. Can’t they ask me if I can handle something or not?

“She doesn’t have a choice. It’s the only way to show her.”

What? Show me what? What in the fuck!

“Hello!” I call out irritated. “I am right here. Would either of you care to clue me in?” I drop my hand off Big’s back and curl it around my belly to rub Harley, so I can center myself before I go off. I need to calm down. I’ve been worked up to much today already. This adrenaline buzz I’ve got going on isn’t helping either.

Neither of them acknowledge me when Gunz states to Big, “I sure hope you’re right, brother. If not, you know what’ll happen.”

“Yeah, I do, but this is somethin’ I’ve been thinkin’ about for a while. It’s the only way to show I mean fuckin’ business. That I’m the man here. That I’m in charge, and I can’t take this no more. Somethin’ has gotta break, and this is the only way she’s ever gonna fuckin’ understand,” Big explains.

Oh god! This doesn’t sound good. Not at all. Understand what? What do I need to understand? I haven’t done anything wrong.

“So be it,” Gunz agrees, as they unlock foreheads, standing upright, patting each other on the shoulders. Running his hands through his hair, Big’s hair falls over his shoulders as Gunz shakes his head in my direction lips drawn tight. “I’m sorry, Baby Doll,” he says.

I open my mouth to ask him what he’s sorry for, but soon realize I’m fucked, when both of my arms are seized at my sides by Dallas and Tripper, who seem to materialize out of nowhere.

“We’re sorry about this,” Tripper apologizes genuinely at my side, as I watch Big and Gunz silently walk to the clubhouse front doors. Big exits first, refusing to look back. And just as Gunz steps outside, he holds open the door and calls over his shoulder. “Bring Bink to the shed in fifteen, and make sure the rest of the old ladies are secure in their houses and the kids are indoors.” He pauses for a moment before he tacks on, “And bring Steel, Brew and Jizz, they’re gonna wanna be there. Remove their weapons,” he finishes and departs, leaving me to watch his retreating back before it disappears out of sight.

What have they just agreed to?

No! No! No! No! This cannot be happening! They can’t do this! There has to be a vote or something, right? Not this. God! Not this!

For what feels like the hundredth time, I try to yank my arms away from Brew and Jizz’s tight hold on my upper arms. I’m not sure if they’re holding me up or restraining me. Maybe both. I can’t stand here. This cannot happen. I can’t watch it. I just can’t. This is barbaric. Why would Gunz agree to this?

“Pick your choice of weapon,” Gunz gestures with the sweep of his hand toward the aged wooden table that is usually used for potting plants. Not this time. It’s been cleared off and turned into a buffet of tools. Tools used to torture someone. And they’re going to be used on Big today.

Three minutes ago Tripper and Dallas all but dragged me outside to this shed, screaming for them to stop. This shed I’ve only ever set foot in twice in my entire life. I try to stay far away, forgetting that it even exists. The dark rusty-red color stains below Big’s bare feet are exactly why I refuse to come in here. It’s haunted. I remember the stories as a child about this place swallowing its victim’s whole. At the time I didn’t understand what that meant. Now I do. This is the room for punishment. Where people are brought when they don’t want people to see or hear them.

“Bink,” Big softly calls my name. “Pick the weapon.”

I can’t do that.

Repeatedly, I shake my head. Refusing to participate. Hot tears burn as they form in my eyes. They cannot fall.

“Babe, if you don’t pick, I know what Gunz is gonna choose, Trust me, you don’t want him using that on me,” Big explains lovingly.

When I was forced through the front door of this old, creepy shed, Jizz and Brew guided me to the back, furthest from the door. A place where Big can see me, as his wrists are restrained by cuffs and chains, wrenching his arms above his head, attached to the hefty center support beam of the shed. His body is naked, except for the ink that he permanently wears like a beautiful coat of fleshy armor.

I ignore his comment and ask for the tenth time, “Why are you doing this? Why?!” I yell my last word.

Big shakes on the chains above his head and his arms look like they’re about to be jerked from their sockets. “These chains are not gonna come off till we get through this,” he states gruffly, undeterred.

“That still doesn’t answer, why?” I twist in my brothers’ grasps, trying to break free once more. They remain strong. It’s not like I could get far. I know this. There is no other escape except past Big on the other side of this shed. And I know that’s where Gunz has ordered not only Dallas and Tripper to stand watch, but my daddy too. I’m surrounded by men. Men who are okay with what is about to happen.

“Just go with it, sis. The more you fight it, the worse it’s gonna be,” Jizz tries to explain on a whisper, his warm breath tickling my right ear. Only I’m not going to listen to him. How could I? Do they seriously think any of this is okay? To hang Big up like he’s a criminal and beat him in this dark, dank, mildew and soil smelling shed. For what? What is that going to fix or solve? Nothing.

Gunz slides around Big, slowly approaching me. He stops a few feet away and offers me his hands with affection. “Baby Doll, I need you to come over to the table with me and pick.”

“No,” I shake my head once more. “Why would I do that? I’m not gonna beat him with it. You are.” I’m fierce with my conviction as I sharply jerk my chin in his direction. My arms that are cradling my daughter, tighten with emotion, and my feet grow heavier, as if lead replaces blood and bone to root me in place.

If I go anywhere in here, it will not be to select the instrument of torture that’ll be used on the man I’m madly in love with. I know I joke and sometimes wish to do horrid things to Big in a fit of anger, but when faced with the live version, I will not participate. I can’t. You’re not supposed to strike the ones you love. I would never, could never, will never, hurt him in any way that would ever involve a device to enact my vengeance. No matter how much he may break my heart or hurt me, he doesn’t deserve this.

“The only reason why I’m the one doin’ this is because we all know you wouldn’t,” Gunz states.

“What do ya mean?” my brows furrow with contemplation, as my head tips to the side, regarding Gunz. Then I glance to Big, whose eyes are glued on me in a way that speaks volumes. He’s not angry, or sad, or even pissed to be tied to a beam. He’s grinning tenderly at me, eyes soft and overflowing with love. Love that I could almost reach out and touch to hold it in the palm of my hand. How’s that possible?

“I mean, Big and I both knew you wouldn’t agree to do what is necessary. That’s why I’m acting on your behalf. Yeah?” Gunz clarifies, tearing me away from Big’s handsome face and returning it to meet his.

He can’t be serious, can he?

In disbelief, I raise my voice a few octaves, “You expected me to want to hurt him? Is what you’re getting at?”

“Big,” Gunz addresses his president, turning to face him, sweat dripping down the sides of his bald head. “I think you need to tell her what’s gonna happen. Prepare her. That’s not my job. That’s yours. I’m not happy about this any more than she is. But I also trust your judgement to know what’s right. So you need to fill in the blanks for her.”

Big’s head nods, as he turns it. Just as his eyes clash with mine, I lose my breath. Those eyes. There’s so much in those eyes. “Sugar Tits, you said I had some shit I needed to atone for—”

I cut him off, “I never said atone. I was just talking about stuff that my mother had said that I needed you to explain. You had already signed Malcolm’s death certificate before givin’ him a chance to fix his mistake. I needed you to understand that even though he’s guilty, you’re no boy scout either. We all fuck up sometimes.”

“Exactly” he blurts. “We. Fuck. Up. And I’ve done it with you more times then I care to count. Which is why ya won’t agree to be my old lady. No matter how many times I make love to you, or tell you how much you mean to me, or try to show ya in all the ways that I can, that you’re it
for me. You’re the only woman on this fucking planet who owns me. You still won’t tell me you love me back. You still won’t agree to livin’ with me full time, and your room at the clubhouse is full of your shit.”

He takes a deep breath before waging on. “Don’t ya think I can feel your distance? You questionin’ all the fuckin’ time whether or not I’m worth the effort? I know I’m not. I’m old. I was a damn male whore for most of my life. You don’t think I know that? Don’t think I know that me shovin’ my cock down a bitch’s throat in order to fuck her is pretty sick? I know my flaws, babe. I’m well aware of who I am. Just as I’m more than aware of who you are too. And I love each and every part of you. That’s why I’m doin’ this damn thing. It’s for us.”