Turning onto the narrow driveway leading up the mountainside, he and Gunny reacted to the new set of tire prints at the same time.
“Bastard came back.”
“Lookie here.” Gunny slapped the roof of the van in a rapid staccato. “We’re gonna deal with shit. Takin’ out the trash.”
Bane steered the van, following the well-worn dirt track.
“You’re good, Bane. We’ll be outta here before you know it.”
“I know.”
“Then why you stranglin’ the wheel, brother?”
Bane relaxed his fingers, stretching them. “I’m good, man.”
Top of the driveway, Bane slowed and let the van roll to a stop before they cleared the line of trees. The van would serve as an effective plug, keeping all traffic in and out from easy passage. Even though they’d closed the barn doors upon leaving earlier, now they hung wide, a gaping block of darkness in the shadowy evening light.
The door to the house was closed, windows dark, but from where they were Bane could see the hulking shape of a man in the chair on the porch.
“There he is.”
Bane opened his door and paused, shoving his head close to the overhead light, giving Sallabrook a good, long look at him. Gunny snorted as he swung out of the van, slamming the door behind him. “Let’s go, brother.”
Bane climbed out, letting the door swing shut, and lengthened his stride, catching and passing Gunny within a few feet. He didn’t slow until he had Sallabrook out of the chair and against the wall. His arm an iron bar across the man’s throat, he shoved his face close to find all the posturing he’d done had been worthless. Sallabrook had been passed out in the chair, missed the whole show. He stank of whiskey and sweat, eyes rolling as he tried to understand what was happening.
Rage swelled in Bane, black and toxic, and a tool for him to use. “Old man, you recognize me? Got a gander at my face, dickhead? I’m the one told you there was no way you’d get your hands on Myrtle again.” Bane lifted the man, suspending him with the hold on his throat, lips peeling back from his teeth with the effort. He grunted, hefted him again to slam against the wall, and his voice, low and dangerous, told Sallabrook, “If I’d known at the time what you’d done, there wouldn’t have been any walkin’ away for you.” The man’s heels rattled against the wooden wall, slowing and stilling as he slumped in Bane’s grip.
“Brother.”
At the steadying touch against his shoulder, Bane jerked backwards and let the man slide down, the limp body slumping against the railing at the end of the porch. “Fuck!”
“We got this,” Gunny said as he pushed past Bane. “You got this, man.” He wrapped an arm around Sallabrook’s throat and yanked him partially upright, then dragged him across the porch, the heels of his socks catching on the rough planks. Gunny shoved the door open and moved through.
Bane followed and went directly to the kitchen, finding even this backwoods cabin had a junk drawer filled with all the things needed for the evening’s activities. Strapping tape in hand, he made his way across the main room to where Gunny had Sallabrook perched in the largest chair in the house. Gunny already had the man’s ankles tied to the chair legs with wide straps of leather that looked like belts.
Positioning Sallabrook’s wrists on the arms of the chair, Bane took his time winding the tape around and around. His final effort was to twist the tape across the back of the chair and loop a couple of straps around the man’s chest to hold him upright. Leaving the cardboard holder dangling, Bane stepped to where he could see Sallabrook’s face. Red and mottled, whether from drinking deep or being choked out. It didn’t matter. Bane couldn’t find an ounce of sympathy in him for this asshole.
“You ready for this?” Bane asked the question, already knowing the answer as he turned to look at the other man.
“Born ready, brother.” Gunny stood near the doorway and thumbed over his shoulder. “Gonna go grab a couple of things from the van. Don’t have too much fun before I get back.” Bane lifted his chin and shifted to face Sallabrook. “Brother?” He looked over his shoulder at Gunny, their level gazes colliding and holding. Gunny’s voice was low and angry when he reminded Bane, “He hurt that boy. Hurt your woman. There’s only one way this ends.”