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

“That’s not nice. Here I am, being all friendly, and you just have to bring up past bullshit. Oh well, I tried.” Standing, Slate walked around him.

Gavin didn’t trust him behind his back, but before he could get his protesting ribs to let him turn, Slate had him in a headlock, and the man on his left plunged a needle into his arm.

As soon as he succeeded in plunging whatever it was into him, they released him.

Slate walked back around to face him. “There. That should make you more amenable.”

“You know you’re a dead man, don’t you?”

“Who’s going to do the job? Certainly not you. Viper? None of The Last Riders even know you’re missing yet, and when they do, the Road Demons won’t even be on their radar. Personally, I don’t think they’ll give a fuck. Have they even tried to talk to you since you gave your cut back?”

Finding out Memphis filled Slate in on what had gone down between him and the club wasn’t a shocker. The fault lay squarely on his shoulders, and Memphis used the opportunity to hand him over on a plate.

“What did you give me?”

“Wait and see. I think you’re going to enjoy the plans I have for you. I know I am.” Cutting his gaze away from his, he looked at the men behind him. “Hock, when he’s ready, you and Brewer bring him upstairs.”

“Will do,” the bigger of the two replied.

“I’ll get Ink and Chain to set up a bed for him. We can’t have our guest sitting on the floor.”

Gavin tried to analyze if he would be able to take on the men left behind as Slate went upstairs, but he had trouble centering his thoughts. He tried to force himself to stay awake, but the more he tried, the sleepier he became. Unable to stay upright, he felt himself slumping backward. Hock and Brewer became blurring images as he stared up at them.

Laying his hand on the cold floor, he tried to push himself up again. It was a wasted effort. One of the men raised his foot to shove him back down again when he was halfway up.

Not willing to give in to the oblivion of the drug, Gavin tried to get up again.

“Damn, how is he still moving?” he heard one say.

“Don’t know. But we better tell Slate to give him a higher dosage next time.”

“Or we can do it the old-fashioned way.”

A fist to his cheekbone did what the drug hadn’t been able to do, leaving him unable to move or gather his jumbled thoughts.

“Let me have a turn.”

Defenseless, Gavin was forced to stare down into the abyss of hell that Memphis, Crash, and Bedford opened. And with his last clear thought, he thought, the nightmare is just beginning.

Chapter Eighteen

“Ah … here’s my new bitch.”

Gavin desperately tried to fight off whatever they injected into him. The blows to his head were making the battle even harder. He didn’t know which one was responsible for muddling his mind and stealing his willpower so that he could stay awake to find a way to escape.

Someone heaved his limp body over his shoulder, and carried him up the steps, then dropped him onto something soft. His mind was too confused to distinguish one face from another, voices merging together.

When he heard a woman’s voice, he could tell the difference. “You sure he won’t hurt me?” the woman asked.

“I gave him enough that he couldn’t hurt a fly if he wanted to.”

Gavin felt a hand touch his shoulder, shaking his body.

“See?” The mocking voice hurt his head as badly as having his body jostled. “Ink, get his clothes off while I set up the equipment. Butcher, check him out when Ink’s done. I don’t want him croaking off. He’s not worth shit if he’s dead.”

Gavin heard a groan coming from inside his chest, but he wasn’t aware of making the sound, nor did he feel his clothes being removed from his body, only that they had been when he felt the cold air on his chest.

“Holy mother,” the woman purred. “He’s going to make us a shit load of money.”

“Yes, he will,” Slate gloated. “How’s he doing, Butcher? He going to live?”

“Not if he takes another hit to the head. Find somewhere else to hit him. His ribs need a rest. I gave you enough in that syringe; it shouldn’t have been necessary to do this kind of damage.”

“Memphis did it before I had him. If I’d known he had a lamp post as a dick, I wouldn’t have given him the couple I gave him.”

“Me neither.” Another male voice snickered.

Dizzy, Gavin tried to match swirling images to the voices and had to close his eyes again, feeling as if he was going to vomit.

“So, is he going to live or not?”