Total pages in book: 151
Estimated words: 143728 (not accurate)
Estimated Reading Time in minutes: 719(@200wpm)___ 575(@250wpm)___ 479(@300wpm)
Estimated words: 143728 (not accurate)
Estimated Reading Time in minutes: 719(@200wpm)___ 575(@250wpm)___ 479(@300wpm)
“They weren’t there—”
He hadn’t seen them, had he? He would have known if they would have been in there. It was Ink and Chain who were there, wearing masks, trying to make him believe that they were Last Riders. Had it really been them?
“Yes, they were. They were the ones crying in the corner.”
Gavin felt her move but couldn’t tell what she was doing.
“I was the only one not crying,” she bragged.
He didn’t believe her. “You’re crying now.”
“That’s because you stink.”
He tried to wiggle away from under her. With the haze of the heroin dissipating, he became aware of how awful he must smell, and that he was naked underneath her. Cringing that the woman had to be exposed to his filth had him trying to move away from her.
“Don’t move; you’re my Kleenex.”
“I’m sorry. They wouldn’t let me shower unless—”
She cut him off by covering his mouth with her hand. “You smell like a survivor, Gavin. Take a deep breath. You’re free. You’re free.”
Hearing the words over and over had him finally realizing that it wasn’t a hallucination. Hallucinations didn’t cry, did they?
Hearing her crying sent a chain reaction inside him that made him unable to hold back the sobs of relief coming from his chest. He wasn’t proud he had survived Slate’s cruelty; he was returning to the world defeated, and all The Last Riders would see it.
“I … gave up.”
“You didn’t give up. You survived. You did what any good soldier would do. You did what you had to do to live. Don’t you dare talk about stinking or giving up, or I’ll kick your ass when we get out of this car!”
“Killyama!”
Gavin jumped at the loud yell from the front.
“What?” she yelled back.
“You can get up.”
“Okay.”
Taking the headset off, the woman levered off him and climbed onto the seat, then reached down to help him sit next to her. The change in positions had him heaving.
“Here, I have a barf bag. Hammer’s driving makes me puke, too.”
Taking the bag, he opened it and breathed in and out slowly, desperately holding back the bile that was rising in his throat. Gavin raised his head from the bag when he felt a rush of air as she lowered the window.
“I thought I didn’t stink,” he remarked when he saw what she was doing.
“I did that to give you some fresh air.”
Laying his head back, he turned to stare at her. “You’re lying.”
“A little.”
Gavin looked down when she took his hand in the dark. The movement, however small, depleted the last of his strength. He didn’t even fight the unconsciousness, letting it wrap him in its dark warmth, not caring if he ever emerged again.
A window lowering in the front sent another rush of air to revive him. Foggily, his brain skated the edge of consciousness enough to hear.
“Good to see you, Reaper.”
His head on the woman’s shoulder, the name of the person’s voice flashed through his mind, then was gone.
“Reaper?”
Gavin was used to hearing those familiar voices in his other life and knew who they belonged to. The SEALs who had come down after he heard the basement door open hadn’t been a delusion. It finally clicked. Hammer and Jonas were in the vehicle with him. The men he had gone on missions with had to be there as well.
The part of his brain that held on for dear life, because he knew if he completely gave in to the comforting darkness, he would emerge back in that hell hole, giving up completely. He didn’t know where Shade was now, but he had been there. The woman said Train was also there. And, if Hammer and Jonas were there, Hell was going to have to wait. Those four soldiers wouldn’t only take a bullet for you, they would spit in the eye of the Devil before they would let him take your soul.
Gavin was lifted out in a tight grip; his arm was placed over one muscular shoulder, then his other was placed on another as supportive hands went around his waist. Both men took his weight.
Lifting his eyelids to make certain it wasn’t his captors, he saw Train’s and Shade’s grim faces staring back at him.
“Don’t let them take me back …,” he begged, barely able to get the words out and ashamed of the sobs that he couldn’t hold back.
Shade tightened his hand on the arm wrapped around his shoulder. “Brother, the only fucking way you’ll ever go back there is when we go there to burn the motherfucker down. You hear me, Reaper? That’s the only fucking way. I swear on my fucking life, that’s the only way you’ll ever fucking go there again.”
“Am I really going home?” He switched his gaze to Train, still not believing Shade’s words weren’t a figment of his imagination.
“Yes, brother. You’re really going home.”