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)
“I didn’t steal the money.”
Viper jerked around. “I knew you hadn’t stolen the fucking money. It took a while, but we finally figured out who was responsible when Bedford tried to kill Beth. She’s the woman Bedford hired to take care of Mrs. Langley. Beth found the paperwork that Bedford had hidden in the attic; it showed he was the one who stole the money from your account. He and his daughter, Sam, tried to kill Beth; Samantha finally admitted what happened to you to stay out of prison. If Beth hadn’t decided to look through the papers before destroying them, we would all be dead. Memphis was about to blow the clubhouse and kill us all.”
“He had it figured out.” Reaching for the clean gown on the hospital table, he accepted Viper’s help to fasten the snaps on the arms.
Taking the sheet off the bed, Viper disposed of it in the bin before taking a clean one from the table and spreading it over him.
Turning his gaze away from Viper, Reaper stared at the blank wall. “Why did it take you so long to find me?”
Viper walked around the bed and into his field of vision. “We thought you were dead. Sam told us that you were and so did Memphis. Shit, he even told us where you were buried, and we found a body there.”
“How did you find me?”
“Hammer and Jonas are bounty hunters now. One of their bounties had a computer they hacked. They found a video of you on the hard drive that led them to Crash. Hammer, Jonas, and Killyama organized your rescue.”
Hammer and Jonas had seen the tapes. Reaper wanted to throw the pan of soapy water against the wall.
“Killyama?”
“The woman you want me to give the roses to.”
“She told me her name was Rae.”
“Killyama is her nickname.”
Reaper didn’t laugh at the nickname. The woman had saved his life by not hesitating to use her gun to protect him. He had asked Viper to give her the roses because, once they had ditched the Road Demons who had tried to prevent his escape, he had passed out on her shoulder. As bad as he had smelled, any other woman would have had her head hanging out of the window, gagging.
“Have you given them to her yet?” he forced the question out, despite the shame he felt knowing she had seen the video.
“Not yet. I’ve been here with you, but I will.”
“How did I end up at the place they took me to after they saved me?”
“Killyama belongs to the Destructors’ MC. It wasn’t a sanctioned rescue for Hammer’s team, so they didn’t want to take the chance that the Road Demons would find out and move you or kill you before they could extract you, and they didn’t tell us because they didn’t want to alert Crash for the same reason.”
Each time Viper opened his mouth, it added another set of eyes that had viewed his humiliation. He didn’t want to know which tape they had watched. Any of the videos that Slate had made of him would be sick and repulsive to anyone who didn’t want to feed their own twisted needs. The videos catered to the maggots of society, those who searched for others to enjoy sharing a feast of their victims. Those victims had no more importance to them than flies swarming decaying roadside kills as they passed by in their expensive cars, knowing someone else would come by and pick up the remains.
Swallowing back his mortification, he gritted his teeth to ask the next question. “Did any of The Last Riders see the tapes?”
“Shade and Train did before your rescue. I did when I found out you were alive.”
He wished Viper had lied. Feeling a gulf form between them as the torment in his brother’s eyes increased, showing the depths of his pain at what he gone through and hadn’t been there to protect Gavin—as Loker had done when they were growing up—forced Reaper to look away. He just couldn’t deal with Viper’s pain when he couldn’t handle his own.
“Where’s Memphis?” he asked, turning his head back to his brother.
“Dead.”
That hurt. He had imagined the man dead a million different ways, all by his own hand.
“Bedford?”
“He died six months ago from a heart attack while in prison.”
What heart? Reaper asked himself. The bastard hadn’t had one.
“Crash?”
“On ice. We’re waiting for you to dole out his punishment.”
Having Crash left for him didn’t even the scoreboard since he couldn’t take out the other two men.
Hatred burned like bile in his throat at being unable to watch the life drain out of their bodies with the same enjoyment they’d had watching his torture. The burst of intense emotion had him breaking out in a cold sweat.
Raising a shaky hand to sweep his long hair back away from his face, he said, “It’s too hot in here. Turn the air conditioner down.”