Claimed by the Biker Giant (Maxine and Tank) novel Chapter 157

Tank POV

Nerves are making me jittery, don’t get me wrong, I need answers, but at the same time, I’m scared of what they might be. There have been so many surprises popping up, and I’m not sure I can take any more, not like this. This was personal, maybe that was why I am so wound up; it hasn’t been this personal before. Sure, we had done small amounts of research on my parents’ death, but this was something tangible. I can’t wait to put a fist in Barry’s face, for Fixer, her grandfather, and my parents.

The warehouse was not what I was expecting. From the outside, it was the same as all the others in this district. Then, inside, the only part that said it wasn’t normal was all the guards. In the place, it still had boxes and crates of who knows what, and from the outside looking in, you might not think twice about it being a storage facility. I liked it a great cover, because it was a storage facility, but it stores more than stock.

The lift was old and creaked as you descended; maybe they made it that way deliberately to put people off using it. Anyone without a special key or thumbprint for the scanner would only reach the basement; we are going beyond that to the place that held cells. The place can hold about one hundred, and more if you put more than two to a cell, but we only have use of a few, each in a cell by themselves.

The guard was clipped and to the point.

Fixer asked to see Cricket.

“I would like to start with Barry,” I added, and the guard raised his hand, and another guard came out of nowhere.

“Take Fixer to cell, ten B.” The large, burly man, who looked like he enjoyed one too many pizzas, led Fixer away.

Part of me wanted to be there when she spoke to Cricket, and the other part needed to get this done. I was torn between getting answers for myself and supporting Fixer. Having a wife wasn’t that easy. I want to be with her, protect her, and at the same time, let her fall.

I heard the door open to the cell and close as we reached twelve B. The heavy door opened to a large cell with two beds, the base made of concrete, and straw for a mattress. A steel toilet, they should be happy about. I had expected a bucket, but noticed he had no toilet paper, sink, or blankets.

In the center of the room, Barry was chained to a high-back chair, with chains around his hands and feet, a chain around his waist, and a chain around his neck. It looked uncomfortable. I get the impression he had been in that chair for a while, because he had defecated himself, and urine was on the floor; he looked and smelled terrible. His right eye was closed due to swelling, his nose was at an odd angle, dried blood on his upper lip. His chest was exposed, his shirt torn, cuts riddled his chest, and there was dried, crusted blood around the wounds.

He didn’t raise his head when we entered.

The guard who stayed in the cell with us moved and kicked Barry’s leg.

He lifted his head and stared at us through his left Bloodshot eye.

“Welcome to my home. I like entertaining guests, but didn’t expect to see such charming guys visiting me.” He gurgled out. Trying to be humorous his attempt failed.

“Why?” Prez asked, coming to stand beside me.

“Why what?” He sounded like he was gargling water

“Why did you have my parents killed? Why did you kill Fixer’s Grandpa? Fixer’s mother.” I asked, in a growl, my anger barely contained.

“Fixer?” He acted dumb, but I know he knew who I was talking about.

“Answer the question!” The guard hit him on the head.

“Collateral damage was a bonus I hadn’t planned on. Your parents died quickly.” He chuckled and coughed up some blood, his head looking down as he coughed.

“The mother was the intended victim; lovely, innocent, and beautiful, easy to lure out, but that child didn’t die, and I suddenly had to think of something else.” He said, chuckling to himself, as if he was enjoying this.

“What did you gain from that?” I asked, still not happy with this man.

He looked up at us, his one eye blazing with hatred,

“That’s a pity, we hardly had a chance to play with him.” Zero said in the quiet that followed the last breath.

“Guess we go visit, Sheila now, and hopefully she will have some answers,” Prez suggested, not the least bit sad that he was gone.

The guard took us to another room, a similar setup to the last, and even had Sheila in a chair; she looked up when we entered. She was not in as bad a shape as Barry was. But still in her own mess, and a black eye, broken nose.

“What do you want?” She spat at us with venom.

“Now, now, that’s no way to treat your hosts.” Zero said, grabbing her chin, squeezing it tight in his hand, enough to cause her to whimper.

“How’s Barry?” Funny, she asked about him, but he never asked about her.

“Dead,” I replied coldly.

Her head spun to look at me, her mouth hanging open, and tears started to run down her cheeks.

“Why?” She asked, playing dumb as far as I was concerned.

“Tell me, Sheila, what do you know about the death of my parents, or Fixer’s mother, and grandparents?” Her face dropped, and she closed her mouth shut tight.

“Barry’s dead and so is Zoey, you are next, and also Alice and Heather, we can go easy on you, or we can go hard, but either way, you will die.” Prez pushed, but it didn’t seem to penetrate her brain; she was stuck somewhere, a memory or nightmare only she could see.