The digital readout of the alarm clock showed 2:38 AM on a Friday morning as I groggily reached for the phone.
"Please help me, Jimmy," the soft voice sobbed. "They hurt me. They hurt me real bad."
A cold fist clinched over my heart as I recognized the voice of my baby sister.
"Where are you, Angie," I asked as I instantly became fully awake.
"I don't know," she wept. "I think there are still two of them here. They're going to rape me some more."
"Leave your phone on but don't let them find it," I replied as I linked our location finder apps. "I'll be there as fast as I can."
I dressed as quickly as I could, grabbing my combat belt, Glock and a Remington pump twelve gauge. I called my brother, Billy, on the way telling him what happened and that I would need backup. Billy linked with my phone and promised to meet me there. Angie's location seemed to be in a warehouse area about thirty minutes away. Billy pulled up next to me just as I parked in the alley next to a nondescript commercial building. He told me that Johnny and Roy were on their way. It took us about five minutes to find a couple of Harleys parked next to an unlocked door.
Unwilling to wait for reinforcements, I told Billy that we would go in now. We crept into the building stealthily not wanting to alert anyone of our presence. Moments later we heard Angie scream. Abandoning caution we ran down the hall toward the door to the room where we could still hear her wails. Billy and I positioned ourselves on either side of the door before I kicked it in.
I entered the room shotgun first to find a fat, tattooed biker raping Angie in the ass. He wore nothing but his denim biker vest with the name, "Bruiser," embroidered on it. There was another skinny one leaning against the wall stroking his pecker. Billy covered him while I kicked the rapist in the head as hard as I could causing him to roll off of his victim.
"If either of you so much as twitches a muscle," I growled, "I'll blow your brains all over the wall."
Angie had curled into the fetal position still crying piteously. I handed the shotgun to Billy and picked her up. I stroked her back gently trying to reassure her though I knew it would take her a very long time to recover from this trauma. Moments later Johnny and Roy burst into the room. They secured the bikers with cable ties while Billy searched for Angie's clothes. We found her purse with the smart phone still in it but her clothes were too shredded to wear. Billy got a blanket from the car to cover her. Leaving our teammates to watch the two creeps, we carried Angie back to Billy's car.
"Angie," I said softly, "We're going to get you to a doctor right away. But first you have to be brave for me and tell me what happened."
"O, ... OK," she sobbed, "I, ... I'll try."
I was still holding her as she told me the story. "Beth Powell called me to tell me about a friend of one of her sorority sisters who needed tutoring. I asked who it was but she didn't know the name; all she had was a telephone number." Angie sniffled a little before continuing, "I always thought she was nice unlike most of the women in that sorority. Anyway, I called the number and spoke to a guy named Brad who said he needed help with calculus. I agreed to meet him tonight. When I got to his apartment, I saw it was Brad Metzler, the senator's son. As soon as I walked through the door, the bikers grabbed me. They brought me here and have been raping me all night long."
With that she broke down clinging to me and crying.
Although I was furious, I forced myself to maintain a calm demeanor until I could get Angie to safety. I told her that we had two choices. I could take her to a hospital where the rapes would have to be reported and investigated by the police. Alternatively I could take her to Randy, a certified paramedic who worked for McFarlane Security Services, the company Billy and I founded when we got out of the army. I promised her the best medical care possible regardless of her choice. I pointed out that given his connections, Metzler would probably walk and she would be painted as a whore if charges were brought against him. I assured her that justice would be served if she left it to Billy and me. Although it was against her kind and gentle nature to seek revenge, she reluctantly agreed that Billy and I could handle it. Except toward my family and close friends, I have no kind and gentle nature. I swore to myself that the bastards who had hurt my sister would suffer fates worse than death.
Billy left to take Angie to Randy's place as I returned to interrogate our captives. I saw from their colors that they were members of the notorious biker gang, Satan's Warriors. The Warriors were heavily involved in retail drug distribution, particularly meth and crack cocaine. They cultivated a badass reputation and were reputed to have been involved in several vicious beatings and at least a couple of homicides. The police and courts had difficulty getting convictions against them because no one was willing to risk almost certain retribution against themselves and their families.
"So," I said grimly, "It takes a whole gang of bad ass bikers to beat and rape one little girl."
"You have so fucked up, asshole" the big one sneered. "Fuckin' with Satan's Warriors just got you a death sentence and all your family too."
"Is that so, shit for brains," I retorted as I pulled the Ka-bar from my belt. "I think you're going to give me the names and addresses of everyone involved in this little party or I'll skin you alive starting with your cock and balls. If you think I'm joking, just try me."
The biker paled and exclaimed, "You wouldn't dare!"
I'll show you what I'll dare, "I responded. I walked over to him and carved "RAPIST" on his forehead.
He glowered at me in pain and anger, blood dripping into his eyes when I added, "Start naming names before I go to work on your little head."
He quickly spewed out about a dozen names, some with addresses, while still threatening my death and destruction. I let him vent his spleen for a couple of minutes before wrapping up.
"Where I come from, rape is a capital offense," I told him. "But I need to send a message to your club so I'm going to let you live. You may regret that decision since I'm going to make sure you never rape another woman as long as you live."
I wrapped a battlefield tourniquet around the base of his dick and cut it off. He screamed as I relieved him of his manhood. I castrated him for good measure. His skinny buddy got the same treatment including the "RAPIST" on his forehead. I told them to give the Satan's Warriors a message from me. "Tell them that I intend to do the same to each and every one of them I can find. Anyone wearing Warriors' colors will be fair game. I'll call EMS for you so you can survive to deliver my message."
I dropped the severed penises and testicles into a storm drain on the way out. I had already instructed Billy to have Metzler and Powell picked up and taken to our interrogation facility. It was looking like a long weekend.
My twin brother, Billy, and I enlisted in the army as soon as we graduated high school. Our family could not afford to send us to college. Unlike our baby sister, our academic records weren't good enough for us to get scholarships. Billy wound up in Special Forces and I served in Army Intelligence. We each served a tour in Iraq and a tour in Afghanistan but not in the same places at the same times. Fortunately we both survived the experience intact. My job was interrogation. As it turned out, Billy specialized in securing intelligence assets, army speak for bringing the bad guys in to be questioned. Our methods were not pretty but they were effective.
Billy and I agreed not to re-enlist after we had completed four years service. We both felt that we were becoming too cold and callous about hurting people. Having saved most of our pay during our overseas assignments, we pooled our resources to start McFarlane Security Services. We started out by getting private investigator licenses. The keystone of our services was complete confidentiality necessitated by our unorthodox and sometimes illegal practices. The business grew quickly and we expanded by hiring friends that had served with us in combat zones. From our initial business in private investigation, we expanded into personal protection. After three years we had about a dozen employees not counting office staff and all the business we could handle. We had contacts with other security companies that we trusted. When necessary, we could bring in additional resources that we could rely on. Our company was more like a family than a business. We all trusted each other to have our backs regardless of the situation we faced.
We leased offices in a business park for our primary business location. However, Billy and I had secretly acquired a remote farm property with about two hundred acres and a run-down old farmhouse. The farmhouse had a full basement that we renovated. The renovation included an expansion complete with a concealed external entrance large enough to admit a commercial delivery van. We also renovated the interior of the house but left the exterior looking too shabby to be habitable. Casual inspection would suggest the structure to be in danger of imminent collapse, a conclusion reinforced by the "Condemned" sign on the front door. The renovated basement contained four small cells and an interrogation room where we employed some of the techniques that we had learned in the army if the case warranted it. Only a few of our most trusted associates even knew it existed. Fewer still had ever seen it.
.... There is more of this story ...