Reaper's Wrath (Road to Salvation A Last Rider's Trilogy 2)

“I’m sure,” Silas snapped.

“How? You go down there and see?”

“Why don’t you go down there and check for a pulse?”

“I didn’t bring my hiking boots. Guess I’ll have to take your word for it.”

“Will you two please leave?” Reaper broke into the squabbling.

“I take it he ain’t convinced?” Greer snorted.

“You interrupted just when I showed him.”

“He don’t look convinced. He still wantin’ to take a nose dive into the wild blue yonder?”

“Greer, you’re making me want to take a flying leap. Will you shut up for a few minutes so I can finish talking to him?”

“Go ahead.” Greer huffily folded his arms across his chest. “I ain’t going to say another word.”

“Now that would be a fucking miracle.” Reaper’s head fell back in bitter laughter.

“The boy’s lost it, hasn’t he?” Greer stared down at him pityingly.

Lifting his head up, Reaper caught Greer’s expression. “Don’t look at me that way. That’s how The Last Riders look at me when I can’t take a drink—”

“Why can’t you drink?”

“Because I’m an addict! I let myself have only one drink, when I kill one of the fuckers who … hurt me.”

“Raped you. That’s what you were going to say, wasn’t it, Gavin? It isn’t a dirty word … What they did to you is a crime.” Silas sighed, going back to his haunches. “Greer and I both know.”

“Who told you? Am I being gossiped about in town?”

“I was with you, and Greer came to you in the hospital. If you let yourself remember, he helped you cope when you were in the rehab center. We can both help you now, if you let us. You don’t have to suffer through this alone anymore. You never did. You just have to get to the point where you’re willing to allow us in to take the pain away.”

Reaper raised his hands to his eyes, furiously rubbing them as if he could erase the memories plaguing his mind more than any deadly infection ever could.

“Hell, I know how to fix this.” Greer stomped away.

“Sorry,” Silas apologized. “He’s part of the reason the Colemans don’t claim the Porters as kin.”

“I heard that!” Greer bellowed from inside the truck. “It’s the Porters who don’t claim the Colemans.”

Coming back, Greer gave Silas a beer, then gave one to Reaper. Opening his own, Greer turned toward the cliff to raise his beer up in a toast. “Sorry I wasn’t here to shove my boot up your ass.” Greer snickered. “I might come back in a couple of days in my hiking boots and take a piss on your rotting body.”

Silas raised his bottle to take a drink. “If his eyes are open, it’ll be bad luck.”

“I’ll wait a couple of weeks, then. The animals will have picked him clean by then.”

Greer tilted his beer bottle toward Reaper. “Go ahead and drink up. I’ll make sure you don’t go craving it.” Uncaring of getting his pants wet, Greer plopped down on the ground next to him. “How long it been since you’ve had one of these bad mamas?” Greer then took a joint out his shirt pocket. Lighting it, he took a hit, savoring it before handing it over to Silas.

“No, thanks.”

“Suit yourself.” Greer lowered his voice an octave, taking another hit. “Pussy.”

Reaper couldn’t help but smile. If Greer wasn’t careful, Slate wouldn’t be the only one lying at the bottom of the cliff.

Heedless of his cousin’s dark stare, Greer held his joint out to Reaper.

“I can’t. I don’t want to get addicted to anything again. I’ll want that high from the other drugs—”

“Ten minutes ago, you were going to take a nose dive off the side of a mountain. Fucking unbelievable.” Greer gave a rude snort. “And now you’re worried about taking one hit?” Taking another hit for himself, Greer again held the joint out to him. His expression changed to one just as grave as Silas’s. “Take a hit, and I’ll show you what I can do.”

Reaper took the joint, breathing in the scent deeply and luxuriating in the smell. Before his kidnapping, once a week, he would grab a beer and share a joint with Rider or Shade just to shoot the shit.

Taking a hit, Reaper closed his eyes, savoring the taste. He held his breath to feel the full effect before releasing the puff.

“Good, ain’t it?” Greer said, taking another hit before giving it back to him.

Reaper took it for another inhale.

“You grow it?” he asked.

Greer looked around as if they were being spied upon and lowered his voice. “Yeah, but don’t tell anyone. I’m an officer of the law. Knox makes me take a drug test, even though I smell it on the fucker when he come in from lunch.”

“Knox is a friend of mine,” Reaper told him.

“He’s still a fucker.”

“I wasn’t disagreeing, just telling you in case you do say something I take offense to.”