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

Fighting down the instinctive urge to vomit, he forced himself to take shallow breaths to lessen the pain. The last thing he needed to do was vomit and pass out.

Putting his hand out in the darkness, he didn’t feel anything around him, so he slid his leg to the side, feeling nothing but the floor. Gavin was debating his next move when a light came on overhead.

Slowly turning his head toward the sound of someone coming down the steps, he confirmed what the light revealed. Concrete floor and walls, no windows, a flight of wooden steps. No chance to escape the blurry outline of a man moving toward him.

The predicament was as bad as it could get, and recognizing the smug face gloating down on him, Gavin knew Memphis wouldn’t be able to resist spelling it out for him.

“Welcome to your new home away from home.”

Gavin let Memphis have his moment, unwilling to give the fucker the satisfaction of shouting useless threats that he was incapable of carrying out in the condition he was in. He knew he was fucked. He didn’t need a fucking spelling bee to figure it out.

Memphis wasn’t going to let him off that easy, though. Using the toe of his boot, he kicked the bottom of his foot. “Damn, Gavin, I thought you had more fight in you.”

Gritting his teeth, he took the pain, letting it wash through him as Memphis walked around, enjoying the sight of him in pain. Gavin didn’t even flinch when Memphis spat at him.

“You’ve got to be kidding me, right? A ten-year-old has more fight than you do!” Confident that he had beaten the fight out him, Memphis roughly smacked at his head. Gavin let him, barely able to stay upright, feeling as if his brain was swishing inside him, pounding his skull.

“They call you the fucking Reaper?” Harsh laughter followed by swift kick to his ribs had Gavin wrapping his ribcages in agony as Memphis continued his tirade. “Fucking loser. If The Last Riders could see you now, they would make me president. Anyone that made you vice president deserves to have his cut taken away from him.”

Grimacing in agony when Memphis reached out and took a handful of his hair, Gavin pleaded to Memphis. “Please stop,” he whimpered.

Reveling in the pain he was causing, Memphis bent down to use his hair to tug his head back, gloating down at him. It was the chance that Gavin had been waiting for.

Bringing the palm of his hand up, he struck Memphis in the windpipe. If he had been at full strength, it would have killed him. Either way, Gavin would take what he could get, enjoying the satisfaction in sending Memphis to his ass, clutching his throat.

Determined to beat the fuck out of the betraying bastard, he gave the rage he’d been holding back free rein to extract retribution. He disregarded the pain it would cause him, and threw himself on Memphis, intent on ripping his treacherous throat out.

“Whoa, Reaper!” Rough hands landed on his shoulders, pulling him off Memphis.

Finding himself staring at three men gathered around him, waiting for him to go for Memphis again, Gavin was forced to allow Memphis to scoot away from his reach. Two of the men Gavin didn’t recognize. It was the other one who had him clenching his hands into fists.

“Slate.”

The muscular man had served twelve months before being discharged for bad conduct. Two of those months, Slate spent in a military prison, thanks to Gavin testifying against him.

“Long time, no see, Reaper,” Slate mocked, squatting down in front of him as the other two men moved to stand on each side of him, waiting to hold him back if he made a move toward Slate.

“Not long enough.”

“I can understand you feeling that way. I haven’t pulled out the welcome wagon for you, but that’s Memphis’s fault. You’re no use to me all busted up. But what can I say? I have to work with what I have.”

Slate turned his blond head toward the wooden steps. “Ink!”

Gavin saw booted feet coming down the steps at Slate’s yell.

“What you need, Slate?”

“Get dumbass out of here before Reaper has another go at him. Next time, I might not stop him.”

“Sure thing.”

Feeling malevolent, Gavin watched Ink help Memphis to his feet, practically carrying him up the narrow steps.

Gavin didn’t turn his attention back to Slate until he snapped his fingers in front of his face.

“Now, I know you want to kill his bitch ass, but I can’t let you do that. As much as I want to do it myself, we’ll just have to control ourselves, won’t we?”

Giving Slate the full force of his hostility, now that Memphis was gone, Gavin said, “Why don’t we see how brave you are without your buddies? But we already know how that would end, don’t we?”