Page 83 of Thug

His gaze narrowed. “When you say ‘club’, you’re meaning your gang?”

“Yes, sir.”

“Every time you call it a club, I think of a bunch of women sitting around playing bridge.”

I chuckled. “I’ll keep that in mind.”

He gazed at the floor for a moment. He took a sip from the glass and met my gaze. “So, this fella you run with kidnapped this gal, thinking she was a rat?”

“Yeah. He kidnapped her, took her out in the desert, and made her dig her own grave at gunpoint.”

He pushed the brim of his hat so high it nearly fell off his head. “Well I’ll be dipped in shit and rolled in oats. Made her dig her own goddamned grave?”

“Yep.”

“This gal. Did she stay together through all that?”

“She did.”

He seemed intrigued. “Didn’t say a word?”

I shook my head. “Not one.”

He chuckled. “She’s probably madder’n a sack of snakes about it, though. Ain’t she?”

“She’s convinced it was a test,” I replied. “That it was nothing but a way I devised for me to determine her worth. She doesn’t realize who ordered the kidnapping, because he had two flunkies do all the leg work.”

“She lives her life thinking that, sooner or later she’s going to grow angry about it.”

“That’s one of the things I’m afraid of.”

“Out of curiosity, what prevented this numbskull from puttin’ a bullet between her eyes? If he was doing as he says and protecting the gang?”

“I found out what was happening. Hell, I got there while she was digging the grave. Ten more minutes, and it would have been over. I put her on the back of my bike and rode out of there like a bat out of hell.”

“If you keep her, you need to tell her the truth on this one, Son.”

“I’m thinking you might be right.”

He lowered his chin and glared. “If you keep her, you need to tell her the truth on this one, Son.”

“Yes, sir.”

“Does she know the fella who organized it?”

“She does.”

“Do they get along with one another?”

“They do.”

He took his hat off and rubbed his head. After a few sips of whisky, he put his hat on. “You’re in a pickle, Son.”

I finished my whisky. “That’s what I’m thinking.”

“How many people know the truth?”

“Me, him, and the two flunkies.”