Gavin's Song: A Last Rider's Trilogy (Road to Salvation Book 1)

by Jamie Begley

  “One way or another, I’m going to kill you.”

  “Do I look scared? You’re nothing without Viper backing you up. Even Viper knows that. That’s why he had to sign up for another tour—to make sure he could watch over you. The only thing for you to be proud of is forming The Last Riders, and you wouldn’t have accomplished that without Rider’s help. See a pattern, Gavin? You’re nothing unless you’re hiding behind someone else.”

  “The Last Riders isn’t what I’m proudest of. Being responsible for getting you out of the service is.”

  “Well, buddy, that’s where you fucked up. If I were still in the service, you wouldn’t be sitting in my basement, puking your guts out.”

  “I’d rather be here than you terrorizing helpless women and children.”

  “Let’s see if you can still say that the next time The Count wants to ram his dick up your ass.”

  There was only one person that he wanted to kill more than Slate and it was the man who had raped him. The woman was third on his list.

  “Nothing to say?”

  “What do you want me to say? Why don’t you shove that gun barrel up your own ass and see how you like it?”

  “I’ll pass.”

  “I thought so. You’re the only coward here, but we both know that, don’t we?”

  Slate’s eyes grew dark and mean. “I’ll send Ink and Hock down with something to clean that mess up. When you’re done, you can eat something.”

  “I’m not hungry.”

  “I’m only going to feed you once a day, so I’d think twice before you refuse to eat. And don’t worry about me putting anything in your food. It’s too much fun poking you with a needle.”

  Backing back up the steps, Slate left him alone. Gavin heard the door slam shut and the sound of a lock clicking in place. With Slate gone, he studied the room, looking for anything he could turn into a weapon. The room was bare except for the Army cot he was sitting on. There wasn’t even a fuse box, and there was only one set of track lighting on the ceiling.

  Lightheaded, he got to his feet to walk alongside each of the walls, searching for an installed camera. Discovering there wasn’t one showed Slate was confident there wasn’t a way for him to escape.

  The only way out was going to be up the steps and through the door. Gavin knew Slate would have guards on the other side. The irony of the situation was that he was a military strategist, and the only way out was going to take a miracle to achieve.

  Slate took the same courses he had and was familiar with the same tactics. It was like playing chess with someone who had learned from the same chess champion.

  They disliked each other on sight, which had only grown the longer they served together. Ultimately, Slate had underestimated Gavin, thinking that he would be able to intimidate him as he had the others in their unit. He would have continued his rise through the ranks, leaving destroyed lives behind him.

  When a young mother was wrongly accused and nearly beaten to death because a relic belonging to the village was gone, Gavin suspected Slate was buying and selling artifacts—among other things. It had taken him a week to track down the evidence against Slate, and when he showed his supervisor the proof, Slate had agreed to return the artifact and several others that he’d stolen. He spent two months in a military prison before being discharged for bad conduct. Gavin suspected that stealing artifacts was the least of his crimes, but it was the only one he could prove.

  Gavin went to stand in the middle of the basement, when he heard the door being unlocked. From there he’d be able to see up the stairs and what was beyond the door. As soon as it opened, he only got a brief glimpse before Ink’s and Hock’s bodies blocked the room from view. From what little he could see, it was a bedroom.

  “Stand with your back against the wall.” Ink motioned with the pistol to get him moving.

  Gavin followed his directions, and not because he was worried Ink would pull the trigger, but he didn’t want another physical altercation before his body recovered from the beatings they’d given him. His head still felt like a fucked-up mess, and his ribs hurt every time he breathed. One more punch, and his lung could puncture. And Gavin had every intention of living. He wanted to live for the express purpose of killing each and every one of these fuckers.

  Ink kept the gun trained on him as Hock came from behind him to set down a gallon of water and a bucket. Afterward, Hock went to the steps to stand behind Ink. Together they started back up the steps.

  “I need to use the bathroom.”

  When they’d finished with him the day before and while he was still out of it, he remembered being led to a bathroom and held under the shower where he had relieved himself.

  “Use the bucket when you’re done cleaning the puke.”

  Gavin wasn’t stupid; he knew that was what the bucket was for. Making a disgusted face, he held up his hands, palms up. “Come on; give me five minutes to take care of my business. I’ll even let you handcuff me.”

  “You can take it up with Slate when he comes back down.”

  Gavin had used the opportunity of them stopping on the steps to take another look through the doorway.

  After they left, Gavin went to the bucket and saw a roll of paper towels and a sandwich wrapped in aluminum foil. Setting the sandwich on the cot, he used the towels and water to clean the floor. He then grabbed a new towel, pouring a small amount of water on it to wipe the sweat from his brow from doing the simple chore. Throwing the dirty towels in the bucket, he placed the bucket in the farthest corner of the basement.

  Grabbing the sandwich from where he tossed it on the cot, he opened the foil to see it was peanut butter. Taking a small bite, he closed the foil again. He would only take small bites until they gave him more food. In case the food was tainted, it would be dispersed through his body in small doses. He didn’t trust Slate, but his body wasn’t going to heal without nourishment.

  Sitting on the cot, with his back against the wall, he counted seconds off into minutes before taking another small bite, along with a small swig of the water. Finishing off the tiny meal, he passed the time by thinking of Taylor. She would have called Viper by now to tell him he was missing. His brother was smart, but Gavin knew that he had three things going against him—Memphis, Crash, and Bedford. Viper had served with Memphis. Their tight bond was the reason Viper invited Memphis to join The Last Riders. Hell, he hadn’t wanted to believe that Memphis and Crash were stealing from The Last Riders, but now he knew that Memphis had taken part in the drug ring in Treepoint. If Memphis had been watching him, then he was on thin ice—even if he wasn’t stealing from the club. The brothers had a strict rule about hard-core drugs. They were laid-back about pot and alcohol, but anything more would have you handing over your cut and bike. Memphis had broken that rule. Gavin had gone out on his own to help Lucky in tracking down information on the drug ring, and he’d seen more than he’d ever expected. Memphis was the one coming and going from the suspected drug house, when he was supposed to be back in Ohio.

  From what he’d pieced together, the road between Treepoint and Molly’s Valley were stopping points. Some isolated homes set off the road were used by mules as a drop point—to stash or sell before moving on to another stash house either in Virginia or Tennessee. From what he’d gathered, the mules didn’t know what stop was beyond the one they were heading to. It was the perfect way for high-level members of the drug trafficking organization to keep their routes a secret. They’d created a complex system, making it impossible for law enforcement to piece together.

  To assimilate himself into Treepoint, he’d started eating at the local diner, not only to meet people in town but to listen in on conversations around him. During his military days, he’d learned some of his best intel came from the local establishments and watering holes. He’d been lucky one day to get a seat next to a local at the diner, who’d been happy to strike up a conversation with him.

  “The coffee is the best in town. I don’t know if that’s
much of a recommendation, but it’s better than the crap they sell at the gas station.”

  The waitress came over, and Gavin waited until he ordered before turning toward the man. “I’ve had every coffee in town and can agree it is the best.”

  They chatted as they drank their coffees and ate their breakfasts.

  “You’re new, aren’t you?” the man asked.

  “Been here a few months. I’m renovating the inn.”

  The man wasn’t surprised. His hard face cracked into a smile. “Treepoint is small. Word gets around quick what you’re doing here.”

  “I’ve been finding that out.”

  “You plan on making Treepoint home?”

  If asked that question when he first arrived, he would have said no, but Treepoint had grown on him. And if he didn’t love Taylor and knew she would never be able to adjust, he would consider making it a home base. But Taylor was in the picture, so it wasn’t going to be an option.

  “No, my fiancée is a big-city girl.”

  “You’re engaged?”

  Gavin looked up from his plate to see a disappointed expression cross the stranger’s face before he lowered his face to his plate, and the cap he was wearing concealed what he was thinking.

  “Getting ready to tie the knot next month.”

  “Congratulations.”

  “Thank you.”

  “Must have been hard on you being separated.”

  “It has been, yes.”

  “Treepoint doesn’t have enough to keep her occupied.”

  “No, it doesn’t.”

  It didn’t bother Gavin that Treepoint didn’t have the conveniences that Ohio had. He didn’t need dozens of restaurants, shopping malls, or the other numerous places that Taylor frequented to keep him content.

  The stranger finished his coffee and picked up his bill. Turning his swivel seat, he seemed as if he was about to go. “The longer you’re here, the more doors will open for you.”

  Gavin’s paused with his cup halfway to his lips as the man continued.

  “Most of the people like to keep to themselves. That’s why most around here don’t live in town; they live where it takes a little bit of work to find them. Used to be an old woman who ran a liquor store out of her house. Sheriff never did catch on to what was going on, and he was running the roads ragged trying to find out where the alcohol was coming from in a dry county. I reckon a man can find anything here in Treepoint that they can find in the big city—if they look hard enough.”

  “Can I get you some coffee?”

  Gavin looked at the waitress and told her no. When he turned back around, the man was checking out.

  If the stranger hadn’t given him the tip, he would have never paid attention to the turn-offs leading to the secluded homes. His driving back and forth during the weekends had given him a chance to see which turn-offs were being used. Then, during the weeknights, he would find a spot to watch the homes. That was when he had seen Memphis turning into one of them.

  If Memphis had been watching him, then he also knew he had been watching the houses. That he had made several missteps with his safety made him want to kick his own ass. He should have gone to Viper immediately when he discovered what was going on with the patents, instead of taking Memphis’s friendship with Viper into consideration.

  But, because he’d been so determined to do everything on his own and prove to Viper that he was just as capable of taking care of himself, he hadn’t even alerted Lucky. If anything happened to Lucky because of him, he would never forgive himself.

  Sleeping intermittently, Gavin didn’t know how much time had passed. When he woke up and the pounding in his head was gone, he slowly rose to his feet, then walked around the small room to get his circulation going again.

  The lights had been on constantly, and without any windows, he had no idea how much time had passed since his kidnapping.

  Stretching out his tight muscles, he still felt the soreness in his body. He refused to think about what had happened to him while he’d been drugged, clinging to thoughts of Taylor’s image. To pass the time, he recalled the different outfits he had seen her in since they met. When he exhausted that, he moved on to the different places he had taken her.

  His growling stomach interrupted his chain of thought, and he wondered how long it had been since he ate the sandwich. Just as he sat back down on his cot, he heard the lock disengage. Before he could get back to the steps, he saw something tossed from the top to land on the floor, and then the door was slammed closed. He picked up the aluminum foil and opened it as he went back to the cot. It was a baloney sandwich.

  Taking a small bite, he started counting seconds then minutes. If they were feeding him once a day, then it was the second day of his captivity.

  He knew he was in deep shit when he could have sworn he had been there for an eternity already.

  Chapter Twenty

  Gavin knew his fifth day of captivity was going to be different when he heard Ink yell at him to get against the wall.

  While his body wasn’t as sore, he felt weaker due to the lack of food and water he’d been given. His captives switched back and forth between peanut butter and baloney sandwiches and rarely gave him a bottle of water.

  Going to the wall, he watched Ink and Hock come down the steps.

  “Jesus, it stinks down here.” Ink gagged at the smell when he reached the bottom, training the gun on him.

  “That’s what happens when you don’t let me use the bathroom.” Gavin was just as disgusted with it as the other two men, but he didn’t let it show.

  “I’ll get one of the bitches to bring you another bucket. I’m not touching that shit. Now turn around and put your hands behind your back.”

  “No.”

  “You really want me to get Slate down here?”

  “You really want Slate to know that you and Hock can’t get the cuffs on me?” he mocked.

  “I’m man enough to know I can’t handle you on my own. How about you, Hock?”

  “I don’t have a problem with it either. Slate!”

  Gavin watched the door, mentally counting the seconds for Slate to appear. It only took two minutes, so either the walls were thin and Hock’s voice could be heard throughout the house, or there was an air vent that had carried his voice.

  Slate came down the steps with anticipation in his eyes, taking the gun away from Ink. “You giving my boys trouble?”

  “Not really. I just told them, if they wanted me handcuffed, they could do it themselves. Your buddies being as much of a coward as you, isn’t really a shocker.”

  “Getting pretty sick of you not appreciating how your ass could be buried where no one knows, instead of being thankful that I’m keeping you alive. Makes me wonder if it’s worth the effort.”

  “Why don’t you come here and find out?” he goaded.

  “You don’t want me to have to shoot you up with Butcher’s juice for tonight’s show, do you? Going to give you a chance to take a shower, but I need you to do one thing for me, or I can juice you up and we’ll move directly to the second part of the show. It’s your choice. Either way, I’m going to make money on you. It’s up to you if it’ll be on your feet or on your back.”

  Slate took the handcuffs away from Hock, throwing them at his feet. “Put them on.”

  It really wasn’t much of a choice. He would rather have his mind and body under his own control with a chance of escape versus him being at Slate’s mercy.

  Bending down, he picked up the handcuffs, clicking one around his wrist. Then he put both hands behind his back, maneuvering the other cuff around his free wrist.

  “Turn around.”

  Gavin turned, showing he had the cuffs on. Hearing footsteps behind him, he then felt hands checking that they were on tight before Ink took his arm and shoved him toward the stairs.

  “Hock, get that shit bucket changed out. It smells like a sewer down here.”

  Slate went up first, then him with Hock and Ink
following behind. Gavin was tempted to push them down the steps, but his chances of escaping weren’t high enough to risk, since Slate had taken the gun from Ink. He needed to know the layout of the house, and to do that, he needed his mind clear to remember the details.

  Entering through the bedroom closet, they led him to the side and into a bathroom. Slate and Ink stood in the doorway, allowing him to use the bathroom and shower. It wasn’t easy to manage with his hands behind his back. They’d refused to even turn the shower knob on, so it took a lot of twisting and turning, setting off spikes of pain in his still injured ribs.

  Getting out of the shower, dripping water, he stopped being compliant, knowing there was no way he could dry off with his hands cuffed.

  “You want to let me dry off?”

  “Don’t worry about it.” Slate stepped away from the doorway to let him out. “You’re just going to get wet again.”

  Gavin exited the bathroom, not liking the way Slate and Ink were looking at him.

  “Get moving. Everyone’s waiting.” Slate used the gun to motion toward a closed door.

  Gavin went to the door, and as he approached, Hock opened it, then hastily stepped away, letting him go in first.

  Walking down a hallway, Slate directed him through another hallway, then through another door, bringing him to a backyard surrounded by trees. Gavin went down the small flight of steps, when he felt the nudge of the gun on his back. He shut his eyes at the glare from the sun, realizing it wasn’t as late in the day as he’d thought.

  There were at least twenty people standing around with drinks in their hands as if they were having a party. When they turned and stared at him, his stomach clenched in dread. Unconcerned that he could see their faces, coupled with the fact they weren’t horrified that a naked man was being led into the yard with his hands cuffed behind his back and were excitedly talking amongst themselves, made him want to take off running. It became very clear he wasn’t the first victim to be paraded in front of them.