by Jamie Begley
Reaching the bedroom, he made sure to soak the bed until the liquid dripped down to the floor. Then he stepped into the bathroom and sprayed the room in a wide arch before going down the basement steps.
In his mind’s eye, the ghost of captive him waited for him at the bottom, moving back to the wall as he had done when one of the Road Demons had come to get him.
The ghost against the wall wasn’t drug-induced; it was the him who had waited for years to be rescued. The him that, each time that fucking door opened, had hoped it was someone to set him free.
He had been so out of his head when Train and Shade had come down that he hadn’t been able to enjoy the triumph or joy that he had waited so long for.
Standing in the middle of the room, he sprayed the room in a circle a couple of times, leaving one thing untouched.
When he was finished, he watched his ghost walk across the floor and lay down on the cot. When his imaginary wraith turned his head toward him, Reaper used the last of his spray to douse it from end to end.
Letting his flamethrower drop to his side, he used his other hand to sling it over his shoulder.
“Rest easy, brother. I’m going to make them pay a thousand times over for what they did to you.”
Walking back up the steps, Reaper left behind the weakened Gavin that never stood a chance of escaping. The one who believed in love, hope, loyalty, and human kindness, only to discover those qualities didn’t exist.
Going into the disgusting kitchen, filled with dirty dishes scattered everywhere, Reaper was amazed that he hadn’t died of salmonella poisoning as nasty as the place was. Picking up a dirty glass on the counter, he saw roaches scatter behind a pile of paper plates.
He turned the faucet on, not bothering to rinse the glass out before filling it to the brim. Carrying the water back into the bedroom, he went inside the closet to stare down the steps before flinging the water down.
Turning on his heel quickly as the flames began, he went back into the bedroom to toss the glass onto the bed. There was only a drop or two clinging to the glass when it landed on the bed, but that was all the liquid he needed. The bed ignited into flames, spreading across the mattress to the floor below, each flame igniting another droplet of the spray.
Reaper walked through the licking flames, unconcerned.
Razer had developed the specialty spray, along with the flame-retardant one that he treated his boots and jeans with. As he walked back through his former prison, flames sprouted up beside him, yet he remained untouched. Leaving through the front door, a free man, the flames were reaching the ceiling, consuming the second floor.
Outside, Reaper watched with The Last Riders as the house burned to the ground.
“Did you call the fire department and tell them not to come, that we’re just clearing a field?” Reaper heard Razer ask Viper.
“Yes. They won’t come. If they do, the fire will already be out by then,” Viper answered.
The sprays that Razer developed were not available for sale—only Razer held the recipe. When the brother bit the dust, the recipe would go with him.
He had discussed the decision with Viper, leaving the final say-so to him. Razer was working for The Last Riders when he’d invented the spray and tested it using the company’s resources. The military would have paid enough money to fill their accounts for the rest of their lives and any children that they would have, but the destructive use was too deadly to leave in the government’s hands. All the original members put it to a vote, each of them signing over their rights to Razer.
Each time he witnessed the spray’s lethal devastation, he was amazed at how the flames ignited and burned whatever was in its path, regardless of what it was made of, down to the dirt, not even leaving ash behind. Like a surgeon with a laser knife, it only destroyed what had been sprayed, leaving anything untouched that hadn’t.
Razer had rigged the flamethrower just for him to use. Reaper had asked him once why he hadn’t made it for himself.
The brother shook his head. “Because if I get mad at one person, I have no problem taking out the whole motherfucking group.”
“Then why let me be the one use it?”
“You don’t get mad; you get even.”
Reaper stood still as the night grew dark, watching the orange flames consume the house, then suddenly disappear, as if the club had never been there. The only thing left was the scorched earth it left behind.
Reaper stalked toward the van, his open jacket catching the wind and billowing out. Giving Train the flamethrower, he went to his bike and swung his leg over the seat.
Viper swung onto his, starting at his bike, then raising his kickstand. Reaper started his bike, waiting for Viper to take the lead. When he didn’t, Reaper turned to look at his brother curiously.
“What’s the hold up?” he rasped out, his mind still on the pathetic ghost he was leaving behind.
“Waiting for you to tell me where we’re going. Treepoint or Ohio?”
“I’m going to Ohio. You and the others can go home to Treepoint.”
“That’s not going to be how it works this time, Reaper. Razer, Cash, Knox, Lucky, Shade, Rider, and Train took a vote. If you pick Ohio, that’s we’re going. You pick Treepoint, then we’ll stay there. But we aren’t splitting up again. This time when we fall, we’re all going to fucking fall.”
“I’m never going to step foot in Treepoint again.” Reaper raised his voice so all the men could hear. “Go back to your wives and homes!”
“Our wives voted, as well.” Viper smiled. “Remember, they’re also members. The Last Riders will never leave one of us behind again.”
“Fuck!” Reaper yelled at each of the men. “Go—”
Lucky started revving his motor so loudly that Reaper couldn’t hear his own shouting.
“—motherfucker—”
Razer started revving his motor, then Knox … then Rider … then Cash.
Reaper knew he was beaten when Train started revving the van’s engine.
Raising his hand in the air, the motors went back to idling.
“Well? Which one?” Viper asked, his hands on the clutch and throttle.
“Treepoint!” he snapped.
“Cool. We were hoping you’d pick that one,” Viper joked with a grin.
Killyama rolled her window down. Hanging out the van, she shouted, “So, where in the fuck are we going?”
Reaper saw the grin on Viper’s face.
“Cool.” She hit the side of the van door. “If you fuckers see us pulled over and the van is rocking and shaking, we’ll see you back in Treepoint.”
Viper’s look turned into one of concern. Getting off his bike, he went to the back of Train’s van and took out Reaper’s flamethrower, putting it in Hammer’s van. Back on his bike, he saw Killyama looked like a kid at the fair who had dropped her ice cream cone.
“Never mind, you all can eat our dust.” She gave him the fuck you sign with her hand before she rolled the window back up. The woman wouldn’t be receiving more roses from him.
“You know, if you do want to go to Ohio, we can ditch Train before we get on the interstate,” Viper offered.
He didn’t want to go back to Treepoint, but another ghost needed to be put to rest, and he couldn’t accomplish that in Ohio.
“Treepoint will do,” Reaper stated, letting Viper ride off before completing his sentence. “For now.”
Chapter Thirty-Six
Reaper followed Viper down the hall, bittersweet memories of how proud he had been when the work on the club had been going on. It was yet one more thing that he could add to the growing list of what he had missed out on.
Would he and Taylor have lasted? Would they have had children by now?
He shoved his hands into his back pockets as they entered the bedroom at the end.
“Rider packed your suitcase up while we were in the kitchen. Can I get you anything before I go home?”
“Yeah, you can stop walking on pins and needles around me and te
ll the others the same thing.”
“They’re just glad to have you home.”
“This isn’t home, and it’s never going to be. I’ll stay here until I take care of the Road Demons and a few other things I need to take care of. I’ll stay out of everyone’s way, and I’d appreciate the same courtesy.”
“Gavin …” Viper’s face twisted in torment. “I’m sorry.”
Reaper winced at the name of the ghost he had put to rest.
“Don’t call me that.” Picking up his suitcase, he tossed it onto the bed. “If you don’t mind, I need to take my meds and get some sleep. Could you ask Knox if his wife has any appointments in the next few days? I have some legal business that needs to be taken care of.”
“I’ll tell him to give Diamond your number.” His brother moved to the door. “That way, you both can work out what’s convenient for both of you.”
Reaper heard the door close.
Taking his meds, he then took a shower. He checked to make sure the windows and doors were locked before sliding the large desk in front of the door. Tomorrow, he would go to the hardware store and buy stronger locks. Zipping up the suitcase, he didn’t bother to unpack before lying down on the bed naked. Turning the light off, he tossed and turned, trying to get to sleep.
After an hour, he got up and started pacing around the room, counting how many pictures were on the walls. Done with that, he started counting the floorboards. Then he wearily glanced at the clock on the wall.
Trying to go back to sleep again, he turned the light back out. The stuffy room had him beginning to sweat, but he didn’t want to open a window.
Turning on the television, he sat watching the news until his eyes grew heavy. Leaving the television on, he turned the light back on and went to the small refrigerator, taking out a bottle of water, then gulping it down while he stood in front of the fridge, letting the cold air hit his sweaty skin. Throwing the empty bottle in the trash can beside the refrigerator, he took out two more before closing the door.
Setting the bottles on the nightstand, he lay down again, staring at the news channel with the volume muted. The nights were the worst since his rescue. It took pure exhaustion for him to sleep for a few hours at a time.
Getting off the bed again, he started doing pushing ups and crunches. When sweat was pouring off him, he went back into the bathroom to take another shower. Toweling his hair dry, he lay back down on the bed. He was watching the morning news when he finally fell asleep.
Three hours later, he was walking into the kitchen, feeling all the eyes turn toward him as he made himself a plate of food. Ignoring Rider, Viper, and Razer sitting at kitchen table, he went into the dining room to sit at a small table.
Reaper poured the syrup over his stack of pancakes, aware of Jewell and Stori staring at him, debating whether to talk to him. Solving the problem, he picked up his plate, going back to his bedroom to eat his meal.
He stayed closeted in his room, trying to familiarize himself with the computer on his desk. Becoming frustrated at how much they had changed, he watched several YouTube videos explaining different models. He jotted down notes for what he needed in a computer, so when he went out to buy one of his own, he would know their different capabilities.
He was adding more locks and bolts to his list when a knock sounded on his door. Opening the door, there was dark-haired woman facing him.
“Sorry I’m late. I was held up in court,” Diamond explained, stepping in when he moved aside.
“That’s fine. I’m just glad you had an opening today.” Reaper motioned for Knox’s wife to take the extra seat at the desk.
Diamond hadn’t been what he expected when Calder told him that Knox and his wife were coming to visit him at the rehab center. Like all the other times he’d been told someone was visiting, Reaper tried to dissuade them.
He expected her to be like Evie or even Jewell. It hadn’t taken him long to discover why Knox had finally settled down and put his past heartbreak behind him. Diamond and Knox’s first wife had one thing in common—they both worshiped Knox.
Sitting down at the desk, Reaper tried to think of a way to ask for her help. Calder had told him about her sister, Sex Piston, who belonged to a group of friends that included Crazy Bitch and Killyama. Calder had joked before getting serious, saying, “She knows how to keep her mouth shut about what she’s working on, and she knows how to get to the bottom of things. She’s one of the best defense lawyers in Kentucky. She’ll do right by you.”
That didn’t matter to Reaper. What he had done was going to come out. He needed to be punished for it. Maybe that way, he wouldn’t see the face of the woman he killed every time he closed his eyes.
“You wanted to talk to me about a legal matter?” she prompted when he remained silent.
“I need you to find out some information for me and represent me when I turn myself in to Knox.”
Hers eyes widened. “Let’s not jump ahead of ourselves. What do you think you’re responsible for?”
“I don’t think. I know I killed a woman when I was held captive. I want you to find out who she was so I can turn myself in.”
Reaper expected her to make an excuse to rearrange the meeting or at least ask to go downstairs to be around others after confessing to murdering someone. Not many women would want to be alone with a murderer without bars between them.
“Are you so anxious to be locked up again?”
Reaper blanched at the thought.
“Are you sure you’re responsible for her death?”
“I strangled her. I don’t remember much about how it happened, but I know I did it.”
“First off, quit saying that and make sure you don’t say that to anyone else. Let’s get the facts straight before you convict yourself.” She didn’t seem repulsed. In fact, she was being discerningly direct.
Reaper smoothed a hand over his tired face. “I only remember pieces. And that’s not all I want from you. Knox told you about the tapes that Slate took of me?”
Forthright, she admitted her husband had told her the details of his captivity. “He did. Knox wanted me to be prepared for what you were going to tell me.”
“Did it work?”
“Nothing could prepare me for what he told me.”
Reaper paused, changing his mind. “Thanks for your time, Diamond, but I think it would be better if I hired a male attorney. I don’t want you to have to watch those tapes.” Reaper started to get up to open the door for her.
“I would be honored to help you, if you’d let me,” she said softly. “I have a pretty strong stomach. If I get too squeamish, I’ll tell you, okay? I’m a lot tougher than I look. And to tell you the truth, I resent that you think I wouldn’t be able to handle watching those tapes. Would you say that Knox couldn’t handle anything thrown his way?”
“No.”
“Knox hasn’t seen those tapes, nor does he want to. If you think you’re going to turn yourself in to Knox to put you in jail, think again. He would quit his job before he’d turn the key in your prison cell.”
He sat back down. “If you change your mind, I’ll understand.”
“Have you seen the tapes?” she asked.
“No, and I’m not going to. I lived it; I don’t need to relive it from another person’s viewpoint.”
She didn’t spare his feelings. “You’ll see them when we go to court if the D.A. decides to charge you.”
“I’ll cross that bridge when I come to it.”
“Fair enough.” Diamond opened her briefcase, taking out a notepad and a tape recorder. “Do you mind? This way, I can play it back in case I miss something.”
“No, go ahead.”
Pressing Record, Diamond held her pen over the paper. “Start from the night you were kidnapped.”
Reaper frowned. “Why do we have to start there? I just thought you would need me to tell you that I killed the woman. Slate would have taped that one. Either he had a fascination watching people die or the
people who paid for his tapes did. I don’t know which. He catered to a lot of sick fantasies.”
Diamond pressed the Stop button. “Earlier, when you said that finding out who you killed wasn’t the only thing you needed from me, does it involve other things that you did?”
“Yes.”
“What other fantasies did he cater to?”
“Slate had auctions to buy a night with me. He’d drug me until I did anything they asked.” He rubbed his forehead hard with the heel of his palm, trying to erase the bits and pieces he remembered of those auctions.
“Okay. Scrub that question. I’ll watch as many of the tapes that Jonas can find. I’ll also ask Knox to search through Crash’s computer to see if any are there. When I’m done, not only will I have a clearer picture of what happened to you, but so will you.”
He nodded.
“I want you to go back to the earliest memory. I need to know the details of what happened, so I will know your mindset when each incident occurred. You’re going to have to be brutally honest about what you remember ….” She held her hand up authoritatively when he would have interrupted. “If I can’t take it, I’ll tell you. If you have trouble discussing with me in person, I can leave the recorder, and you can do it at your own speed.”
“We can do both.”
“That’s a good compromise.” She brought her finger to the Record button. “What’s the first thing you remember?”
His lips curled into a smile.
Surprised, Diamond lifted her pencil off the notepad.
“I know it sounds strange, but the first thing I remember about that night was a song.”
“A song? What was the song?”
“‘In the Arms of an Angel.’”
Chapter Thirty-Seven
Reaper was dressed all in black, from his boots to his jeans, with his black leather jacket unzipped, showing the black T-shirt that clung to him. On the outside, he was the healthy, vital man that he was before his kidnapping, but on the inside, he felt as if Slate warped his DNA into the diseased man who was now walking into the circle to exact the punishment that Crash deserved.