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)
“Who are better off without having you as a father. Even your ex-wife doesn’t want you around them.”
“Fucking bitch! She ratted me out?”
“We knew where you were the entire time. The only reason I let you live this long is because I want Slate. I guess he isn’t as loyal to you as you are to him.”
“I can get him for you, I swear ….”
Reaper bent down to his haunches with a beer bottle in his hand, giving him a mocking look. “What did I tell you about swearing?” Taking a drink of his beer, Reaper watched him as he tried jerking his hands out of the handcuffs.
“You recognize this place?”
Ink started crying, his hands becoming bloody.
“This is the grave where my brother buried me … Or, at least the body of the man he thought was me.”
“I didn’t have anything to do with that. That was all Crash and Slate.”
“Unfortunately, for you, I don’t feel as close to Crash as I do to you. He’s buried in a different graveyard. No, this one is special. This is the one that, when I do die, I’ll be buried here. Why not?” He laughed. “It already has my tombstone on it. Viper is all about saving an extra dime.”
Another man came to stand next to Reaper. “I paid a fucking fortune for that tombstone. I put a lot of thought into that poem.”
“It sucks. Make sure you change it when I do die.”
The two men both drank their beers as they stared down at him. Ink then saw other men surround the hole.
“Help me! He’s crazy!” Ink begged, crying so hard snot was making it hard to breathe.
“Afraid I can’t deny that.” Reaper straightened to his full height again. Jesus, he was even bigger than when he had first been kidnapped. No wonder Slate had wanted to keep him almost starved.
“Damn, it’s getting hot out here. You need something to drink?”
Ink knew better than to ask for something he wouldn’t get. He had ignored Reaper’s pleas too many times for water to expect him to give it to him.
“You afraid to ask?” A sinister smile played over Reaper’s mouth. “Don’t be. Since we’re going to be spending time together, the least I can do is give you water.” Reaper held his hand out to a man standing out of sight. Ink recognized the man who came forward; Crash had shown him pictures of the other Last Riders.
“Lucky … help me out! Please. You’re a pastor!”
“That’s why you’re getting the water,” he said, finding an empty space around the hole.
Reaper dropped the water bottle down into the vault. “I told him it was a waste of good water. In case you haven’t figured it out, you’re in a vault for a casket. When the top goes on, it’s going to suck out all the air from inside. Lucky thinks you might have a few minutes. I don’t. You’ll have to tell us which one of us is right when they put my coffin on top of your bones.”
Ink’s mouth dropped open. Reaper was going to bury him alive, in the grave that used to be his.
Ink started laughing hilariously. “Son of bitch! I’ll be waiting for you!”
Reaper gave him a smirk before taking the last sip of his beer. “I’ve never been afraid of ghosts. It’s the fucked-up motherfuckers like you I should have watched out for.” Flipping the bottle so that Reaper held the neck in his hand, he threw it at him, hitting him on the forehead.
Viper then finished his beer, taking his time before flipping it the same way and hitting Ink on the temple.
Did he just feel the handcuff slip enough to get his thumb out? Ink desperately started wiggling his fingers trying to get his hand free as each of The Last Riders took turns throwing their bottles at him. When one hit his dick, he pissed himself. Ink stopped trying to get his hand free. He knew he was fucked. Slate knew he was fucked. That’s why he ditched them. He would rather have a bullet in his brain than be buried alive.
“You’re acting like you didn’t enjoy several things that we did to you. Viper, did you know that Gavin was Slate’s bitch? Hell, he was all of our bitch. He gave a better blowjob than the sluts in the club did,” Ink goaded the president of The Last Riders.
An animal scream of torment came out of Viper’s mouth as his hand went behind his back to take out his gun and point it at him.
Thank God, Ink thought.
“No.” Reaper reached out, taking Viper’s wrist and lifting it and the gun to the sky. “No, Viper,” Reaper said again when Viper tried to pull his arm back down. “Shade, Knox, get him out of here,” he rasped out.