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

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.