Total pages in book: 157
Estimated words: 145088 (not accurate)
Estimated Reading Time in minutes: 725(@200wpm)___ 580(@250wpm)___ 484(@300wpm)
Estimated words: 145088 (not accurate)
Estimated Reading Time in minutes: 725(@200wpm)___ 580(@250wpm)___ 484(@300wpm)
Hammer took the safety off his gun and stepped into the kitchen with his heart beating so fast it was making him lightheaded. Numerous bottles littered the table, as well as a pizza box and two fast food bags left behind by someone who didn't have the capacity for cleaning after himself. After making sure Dex followed him inside, Hammer walked past the closed bedroom door and checked the living room before stepping into the garage. The bike was gone from its usual place, which made Hammer exhale with relief. They’d have a bit of time to look around in peace.
He found his hostage staring at several photos hung on the wall. “Which one is it? And please tell me it’s not the cute one,” Dex added, pointing his nose at a photo of Ryker presenting a fish he’d caught.
“That’s him,” Hammer said, trying to ignore Dex’s description of the pedo motherfucker. He pulled on his arm and shoved open the bedroom door, ready for a speedy disassembly of Ryker’s computer.
Dex sighed. “You can never tell by looks alone, can you? I once met this guy, total babyface—”
But Hammer wasn’t listening to the rest of this irrelevant story, because his brain was fucking exploding. The computer was gone. Gone. Of course. Ryker knew damn well what was at stake.
“Fuck,” he uttered and opened the closet in vain hope that the tech was there, prepared for transport. He found nothing but clothes and accessories soaked in Ryker’s flashy cologne.
The ground was crumbling under his feet, but he wasn’t yet ready to give up. Because if he didn’t find any evidence against Ryker then… what options would be left to him other than an open fight or permanent disappearance? He did not want to be uprooted after such a long time. He’d made a name for himself here. He was feared, respected, and he’d worked too hard for that to give it up.
“Stay here,” he barked at Dex and dashed back into the corridor, hoping to maybe find the computer in Ryker’s garage. Or broom closet. Or one of the kitchen cupboards. Or maybe there was some old phone lying around, with illicit photos of the kind you never showed anyone.
Hammer’s head pulsed as he rummaged through the kitchen, and the only way he could let some steam off was by swearing and tossing Ryker’s dishes to the floor. What if Hammer had really caught him looking at that shit out of curiosity and what he’d witnessed had been just a fucked up fap session gone sideways? If that was the case, then there would be nothing else to prove that Ryker was a degenerate pedo who’d lashed out at Hammer to deflect any accusation coming his way.
He grabbed his face and screamed into his hands as he kicked down the living room TV, but Dex’s muted voice called out to him like a wasp trapped in a glass.
He might as well leave the idiot here, because without proof of Ryker’s transgressions, his comfortable life would be finished either way. He shoved off all the books put on shelves to impress the ladies and entered the bedroom with an angry huff.
“Let’s go.”
Dex’s lips parted, but he stood his ground when Hammer grabbed him by the arm and tried to pull. “Wait. I couldn’t check since my hands are cuffed behind my back. Really unnecessary by the way, unless this is a kinky thing, in which case—”
“I said let’s go!”
“No, I mean, that socket. Look at it. The alarm clock’s attached to it, but it’s off. I’m pretty sure I have that exact same fake socket. I used to stash weed in it so Frank wouldn’t find it.”
Hammer stalled. Angry words were stuck in his throat, but he swallowed them and focused on the outlet by the nightstand. The kid was right. Something was off about it, and he would find out what.
Pulling out a pair of rubber gloves and his switchblade, Hammer kneeled on the floor and approached the socket as if it was a dangerous animal. But it moved at the slightest push, opening like a little door to reveal a stack of polaroid pictures.
It really was just a little cache. “Fuck me, you were right!” Hammer said, reaching for the photos with his heart drumming.
Dex scooted next to him. “Ha! What is it—oh.”
Even he went silent at the content of the pictures. Hammer didn’t want to look at them either, but he hurriedly shuffled through the evidence. Girls who couldn’t be more than ten featured in each one. In some of them, he could spot Ryker’s bedding and headboard, while a few others showed hands covered by identifiable tattoos and signets.
For once, Dex didn’t say anything, though Hammer would have liked him to.
Clearing his throat, Hammer shoved the photos into the inner pocket of his jacket and shut the hideout. “We have what we need. Good job,” he said, itching to go back to the car and drive off. He couldn’t look at the damn bed. It was one thing to jerk off to pictures but soliciting kids—who even knew from where—another.