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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.

Angie, three years younger than Billy and I, was the light of our lives. She was genius level smart and worked hard to maintain a perfect 4.0 grade average through high school and college. No social outcast, she ran track and played soccer in high school in addition to having an active social life. Angie was beautiful, about 5' 6" and slender with red hair and flashing green eyes. She volunteered as a candy striper at the local hospital while she was in high school since she was determined to go to medical school. She didn't drink, do drugs or go to wild parties.

Angie had completed her first year of college when Billy and I were discharged from the military and started our business. She had a full scholarship for her undergraduate studies. We promised her that we would pay as much as she needed of her medical school expenses. We had started the business in a small city not too far from the smaller town where we grew up and where our parents still lived at that time. The university that Angie attended was also located in the city where we had our business. Almost six months after Billy and I had returned, a drunk driver killed our parents just before Christmas. Because the drunk had come from a company Christmas party, we successfully sued both him and his company for wrongful death. Despite our parents' meager estate, the proceeds of the lawsuits assured there would be more than enough money to carry Angie completely through her medical education.

Angie wasn't a prude but she didn't fool around either. She had intended to save herself for her husband when she eventually married. These animals had destroyed one of her major dreams and I intended to extract an appropriate price from each of them.

It was dawn by the time I got to Randy's place. He and Billy had gotten Angie cleaned up, sedated and put to bed. They had administered the morning after pill. Randy assured me that he would take care of arrangements for confidential STD testing. I was terrified that we would learn that one of those bastards was HIV positive but that turned out not to be the case. We did have to have her treated for the clap. Randy also promised to arrange for private and confidential rape counseling as soon as he could contact a counselor whom he knew. We had a doctor in our network whose confidentiality was assured. He had already promised to care for Angie as long as necessary.

I went home to take a shower before going to work. I spent most of the morning on the phone making arrangements and rearranging schedules in advance of an emergency meeting of the whole company planned for 1:00. After lunch everyone including our accountant and secretaries gathered in the main conference room. The only ones not there were Randy, Johnny and Roy and they had already been briefed. I started by thanking everyone for coming to the meeting on such short notice including a couple of people who were supposed to be taking the day off.

Then I started on the main topic, "This morning McFarlane Security Services declared war on the biker gang known as Satan's Warriors. The Warriors are despicable, degenerate individuals known for violence and preying on the weak and defenseless. Because they are known to take retribution not only against those who oppose them but also against their family and friends, I am making arrangements to provide each of you and your families with armed and well trained bodyguards. However, I would urge you if at all possible to send your families on vacation as far from here as possible. Until this unpleasantness is resolved, we are all at risk. If you, yourself, wish to take a vacation with pay, I will approve it. I hope to resolve this completely within a couple of weeks, but I cannot make any guarantees. I will try to answer your questions, but there are some things you will likely want to know that I cannot reveal."

I paused and someone asked, "Why are we at war with those assholes, anyway?"

I smiled, "I'm not surprised that the first question is one that I cannot fully answer. Suffice it to say that they committed an offense against us and I retaliated swiftly in a way that will be taken by them as a declaration of war. I intend some further pre-emptive strikes today and tomorrow that I expect will provoke attempts at retaliation on their part. No one will be required to participate, but those who wish to support this operation need to be here at 5:00 for a planning meeting. Until then I have some personal business that I must take care of."

After a few more questions, I closed the meeting by asking my best field operatives to join me in my office. Without mentioning Angie, I told them that the Warriors had raped a personal friend of mine. I described briefly what we had done to the two Warriors that we caught. There were few shocked expressions. Most of us had done as bad or worse in military service. We discussed the list of names I had gotten and prioritized four more to receive similar justice for their crimes, one of whom was the putative leader of the Warriors. I assigned my two best researchers to find out everything possible about the members of the Warriors, where they lived and what their habits were. By 2:00 I had done everything I could to start the ball rolling. Billy and I left to go back to Randy's place.

Angie was awake but still in bed and groggy from the sedative. She clung to me while crying a few minutes more. As she calmed herself somewhat, she asked what we were going to do. I told her that we were going to disband the Warriors but I refused to give her details. I did tell her that she would have to hide until we had finished with the gang. She was worried about missing her classes but I promised that I would resolve things with her professors. She gave me her class schedule and laid herself back down to resume sleeping. Billy and I talked with Randy a while longer until we had to return to the office for the 5:00 meeting. Roy was going to stay with them for the duration to provide backup in case the Warriors tried to make a social call.

I was gratified to see that no one had opted out of the 5:00 meeting. At the meeting we made detailed plans for taking out the next four Warriors. We were hoping that the club had not yet gotten the message that we had sent them so that they would not be expecting us. I explained that once they had been taken to the hospital, the police would have been called in. I didn't imagine that any Warrior would cooperate with the police so there was a good chance that the police interrogation would have prevented them from alerting other gang members for several hours. Moreover, our research had revealed that the Warriors were so arrogant that they probably wouldn't consider us a serious threat at first. Our planning included preparations to lure them into an ambush after we had taken out the next four. By then they should be furious at our audacity in taking them on leaving them too eager to teach us a lesson to be sufficiently careful in their attack.

As the meeting ended, Johnny took me aside to tell me that Metzler and Powell had been collected and delivered to the farm. I was elated. I needed to find out as soon as possible whether anyone else was involved in setting Angie up. I needed to capture them before our conflict with the Warriors garnered too much publicity causing other involved parties to become worried and suspicious. Powell and Metzler were now sitting in soundproof, windowless cells so small that there was only room for a too short bed and a chamber pot. The ceilings had been lowered to 5 feet so that even a short person would not be able to stand up straight. The cells were dimly illuminated with one 25-watt light bulb in a recessed receptacle. They would be there for several hours with no human contact. That isolation should make them very anxious before we interrogated them. We did leave them a couple of one-liter bottles of water so they would not get dehydrated. That almost guaranteed that they would have to endure the embarrassment of using the chamber pot to relieve themselves.

The leader of the Warriors was an ex army ranger named Bubba Thompson. He came out of the army with an attitude. He was lean, mean and nasty constantly in some kind of minor trouble with the law. He soon joined the Warriors seemingly to have allies in taking out his frustrations on the general public. With a knack for leadership and intimidation he quickly became the gang's leader steering them into the profitable business of drug distribution. Bubba's sidekick was a rat-faced weasel named Leroy Jones. Their names were both on the list extracted from Bruiser. I had no doubt that they had been active participants in raping Angie.

It was nearly midnight when we caught them coming out of the biker bar where they had been drinking most of the night. We tasered them, loaded them into our nondescript van and headed out of town. We had them stripped and tightly secured by the time the effects of the taser had worn off.

As soon as he regained his ability to speak, Bubba blustered, "You dudes have seriously fucked up. You've messed with Satan's Warriors. The rest of your short lives are going to be filled with pain."

"Is that so, Bubba," I replied. "Too bad you didn't have a chance to talk with Bruiser yet. He could have told you about the consequences of raping young innocent girls."

"You mean that red-headed cunt?" he spat back. "She was a tasty little treat but a bit skinny for my tastes."

"You should have passed her up, Bubba," I retorted. "Fucking her cost Bruiser his cock and cojones. Now you're going to pay the same price. You'd better warn your brothers that wearing Warriors colors will cost them their manhood."

We dropped them off in a park close to the hospital minus their genitals. We kneecapped them with .22 shorts for good measure. They also had the "RAPIST" moniker embossed on their foreheads. They no longer had the equipment to rape again and wouldn't be able to chase anyone down either. We called EMS on a throwaway cell phone because we didn't want them to die. While we took out the Warrior leadership, two other bikers on our initial list got the same treatment. By Saturday morning there were six Warriors in the hospital mourning the loss of their sex lives. Billy and I went home and slept until early afternoon. We figured that we had until Sunday before the word reached the rest of the gang. We had more targets lined up for Saturday night, but first we had a couple of college students to interrogate.

It was late afternoon by the time we arrived at the farm. Brad Metzler and Beth Powell had been alone in their cells for more than 24 hours. After some discussion, we decided to question Beth Powell first. She was escorted to the interrogation room by two of our associates who wore uniform slacks and shirts. She was seated at a table with her ankles shackled to the chair. They left her alone in the room that looked a bit like a medieval torture chamber. Half an hour later I walked in wearing the same uniform. By the time I arrived she was looking very nervous.

As I walked up to the table to take the seat across from her, Beth immediately exclaimed, "I demand to see my lawyer."

"Well, Miss Powell," I replied, "If I were an officer of the law, I would probably be required to respond to your request. But since I am not, the request is denied. Now if you will just answer my questions, we can get this over with."

"I'm not saying anything until my lawyer is here," she retorted.

"Very well," I said glancing at the restraints and the whips hanging along the wall. "I had hoped that I could get my questions answered without resorting to any unpleasantness but I can see that may not be likely."

Her expression of anxiety seemed to increase as she followed my gaze to the implements arranged on the wall. I continued, "Thursday evening, Angela McFarlane went to a tutoring session that you had arranged. When she arrived at the apartment of the student she was to tutor, some members of an outlaw motorcycle club abducted her and gang raped her. When they left her alone for a few minutes, she managed to call me. I was able to rescue her. I want to know who else was involved and why you did this to her."

Beth's face turned white. She clasped her hand to her mouth and gasped, "O God, no! Please tell me you are not serious."

"I am quite serious," I said. "You will tell me whose apartment she went to."

"I don't know," she moaned. "Tiffany gave me the phone number and said she was playing a joke on Angie. Angie knows that Tiffany doesn't like her so she wouldn't have done it for Tiffany. I just thought Tiffany was sending her on a wild goose chase to waste her time. I'm sorry, ... I'm so sorry, ... I would never do something like that to anyone."

"Who is Tiffany," I asked.

"Tiffany Adams," she answered, "She's one of my sorority sisters. Tiffany's been mad at Angie since she refused to pledge Kappa Delta. Angie let Tiffany know that she felt that Kappa Deltas were not serious students; that they were shallow and had loose morals. Tiffany never forgave her. But I never dreamed that she would do something so evil."

"Well, young lady," I said, "You have presented me with a dilemma. I expected you to confirm my conclusion that you had set Angela up. Now I will have to talk with Tiffany. Until then you will remain my guest."

"Why can't you just let me go," she whined. "I didn't mean to hurt Angie. I didn't know what was going on."

"First of all," I replied, "You have already admitted to going along with a mean-spirited prank even if the consequences were much more serious than you claim you expected. Secondly, I still don't know whether to believe you. And finally, I did have you kidnapped. I have no intention of going to prison for a federal offense. I may still pursue my original plan and simply make you disappear."

She stared at me with a horrified expression saying, "You, ... you can't do that, ... can you?"

"Oh yes I can," I spat. "In some countries there is quite a good market for young white girls like you. You would fetch a pretty penny in the mid east. Or I could sell you to a brothel in Mexico or South America. Back home you would be just another face on a milk carton, never to be seen here again. There is nothing connecting you to me; I would never even be suspected of involvement in your disappearance."

Beth collapsed in her chair, hands over her face weeping.

"Please, ... please let me go," she begged. "I swear I'll never breathe a word about any of this."

"We'll see," I stated without commitment. "For now you go back to your cell while I question my next guest."

As soon as I stood, my two associates entered the room to release her from the chair and return her to her cell. I instructed them to give her some food and more water before bringing Metzler to the interrogation room. She was clearly shaken as they led her away still sobbing. Once Beth returned to her cell, Brad was escorted to interrogation and shackled to the same chair that Beth had just vacated. I let him sit there while I made arrangements to have Tiffany picked up.

As I walked into the room, Brad stood up and shouted at me, "Do you know who you are dealing with, asshole?"

"Yes," I replied, "Now sit down."

I took my seat and said, "You are Bradley James Metzler, son of Senator James Edward Metzler and Carolyn Ann Metzler nee Martin. You have a younger sister named Diane. You are a below average student at our university and a part-time drug dealer. Your drug suppliers are members of Satan's Warriors."

"That's right, butthead," he sneered. "And you should know by now that you can't touch me for anything. My father's lawyers will have me out of here as soon as they arrive and you will be pounding a beat in the projects."

"Is that right, Brad," I smiled. "Why don't you humor me while we're waiting for your lawyers to arrive. Let's talk about the party you had Thursday night with some of your Warrior friends."

"Oh," he exclaimed as recognition crept across his face. "This is about that redheaded twat. You have nothing to connect me to her. I'll have a dozen fraternity brothers who will swear that I spent the night playing poker with them. Besides I only popped her as a favor to Tiffany. I guess I owe Tiff one. I had no idea that the little slut would be cherry. I was the first to use all three of her holes. Man, that was some tight pussy."

"I hope you enjoyed it, Brad," I said grimly, "Considering the price you will pay for it. Do you have any idea why Tiffany wanted you to do her?"

"Yeah," he laughed, "Tiff was really pissed when the little cunt snubbed her and her sorority. She told me to bring the stuck up bitch down a notch or two."

I led him on, "I'm sure you let Tiff know that you got the job done."

"Oh yeah," he agreed, "You should have heard Tiff laugh when I texted her the pictures of the slut getting three-holed."

"You know, Brad," I said, "You really disappointed me. I expected that you would refuse to talk and I would have to use some more persuasive techniques to loosen your tongue. But you gave it all up without any effort. I was so looking forward to persuading you to talk."

"What the fuck are talking about now, asshole," he retorted. "And where the hell is my lawyer? He's had plenty of time to get here and I want to see him right now."

"Gee, Brad," I smiled, "You seem to have the mistaken impression that I'm some kind of law enforcement officer owned by your father. I guess I should have introduced myself. I'm James Patrick McFarlane, President of McFarlane Security Services and Angela McFarlane's brother. You remember Angie, don't you? She's the pretty little redhead that you had gang raped two days ago. You and your scum bag biker buddies are going to pay a very high price for hurting my sister."

The arrogant smirk slid off his face to be replaced with a worried look. Still he tried to bull through with bravado, "Are you fucking insane? You mess with the Warriors and you'll be dead. Your precious sister will be fucking donkeys in a Mexican whorehouse."

"Really, Brad?" I replied, "That's almost exactly what Bruiser told me," I paused a few moments for effect, "Right before I cut off his cock and balls."

I pulled the picture from the folder in front of me and threw it on the table in front of Brad. He must have had a weak stomach because he barfed all over the table at the sight of Bruiser's bloody, mutilated crotch and the stigma carved into his forehead. I guessed that he had puked away his cocky attitude since he had nothing more to say.

I continued, "I'm glad you mentioned the Mexican whorehouse. I'll bet you didn't know that there are cities in South America that have homosexual brothels. I'll see if we can find one for you that does donkey shows. I doubt that I would enjoy a donkey dick in my ass, but who knows, you might learn to like it eventually."

"You don't have to worry," I added, "I'm not going to cut off your package. I don't have time to wait until you would recover from the wounds. I figure that you won't actually be missed until the middle of next week. By then you'll already be entertaining the paying customers in Sao Paulo. Maybe we can get you a Portuguese phrase book as a going away present."

"You'll never get away with this," he yelled, his face red with fury. "Either my father's people or the Warriors will find me and then you'll be in a world of hurt."

"You'd better hope the Warriors don't find you," I said. "Six of them are in the hospital looking like Bruiser and they might just blame you for getting them into this war that so far they're losing. But don't fret; there's no way for them to know that you are headed for Brazil. I certainly won't tell. And if you contract AIDS, the government will provide free medical treatment."