Page 120 of Thug

“Go grab a pillow off his bed,” I said. “I’m going to shoot this prick in the thigh, and I don’t want to have the neighbors call the cops.”

“Be right back,” Chin said.

“Hold up a minute,” the guy said. “I’ve got a couple guns. You can have ‘em.”

“What else you got?” I asked.

His eyes darted toward the wall mounted television. “Nice television.”

“Do I look like I run a fucking pawn shop?”

Chin handed me the pillow. He nodded toward the coffee table. “MacBook Pro on the coffee table. The big one. Looks new. Worth a grand, at least.”

Two months prior, I would have beaten the man senseless and lit his house on fire for threatening me, alone. Thanks to Gray and my newfound serenity, I’d settle for taking his valuables and putting the fear of God almighty in him.

“Grab it,” I said.

“Wait, you can’t take—”

I pounded the frame of the pistol against his left cheek. His face split open like a stepped-on grape.

“Don’t tell me what I can take,” I growled.

Chin, who was somewhat of a computer nerd, knelt in front of the open laptop.

“Whoah!” He jumped from kneeling to standing. Using his tee shirt, he leaned over and wiped his fingerprints from the keyboard. “This fucker’s got pictures of naked little kids on here.”

“What?!” I howled.

Chin nodded. “Computer hadn’t gone in sleep mode yet. Dude’s got a bunch of naked kid pic’s on here.”

I began pistol-whipping the bearded pervert with the frame of the pistol. After the third or fourth whack, he fell to the floor.

When Chin pulled me to my feet, I realized I’d blacked out from anger and had nearly beaten him to death.

I looked at his bloody, swollen face. Unconscious, he had no idea what was going on.

I picked up the pillow, smothered the barrel, and pointed my pistol at his chest. “I ought to—”

“Don’t do it, Price,” Chin pleaded.

I shot him a wild-eyed glare.

“Our bikes are out front,” he said. “Cop’s will pick us up for sure.”

Blinded by anger, I glanced around the room, looking for answers.

“Cops pick you up on a murder charge, and you’ll never see that gal again,” Chin reasoned. “You don’t want that, Price.”

Still furious, I gave him the death stare. “I don’t give a fuck if—”

“Bullshit,” he said. “Take a few deep breaths, Brother. We’ll get a coupe of the fellas to take care of this. Now’s not the time. Not with our sleds parked out front in the daylight.”

After a moment of fuming, I came to my senses. I glanced around the room. “Think this fucker’s going to talk?”

Chin nodded toward the laptop. “With that shit he’s got on his hard drive? He won’t say shit. He’s got fifty years in club fed if he’s caught with that shit.”

I planted the heel of my boot against the computer’s screen, crushing it in one blow. I continued stomping until the keyboard spewed keys all over the floor and the frame of the laptop was distorted beyond recognition.