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)
Dex hated himself for being deceitful toward Frank, who so clearly cared for him, yet his first thought was that this was the opening he needed. “I’ll just take a leak, since I’m already here.”
Frank sighed and gave Dex’s healthy shoulder a gentle squeeze. His dark eyes were soft with care. “All right. Join me in the shop,” he said and stepped out of the bathroom.
Dex did take the opportunity to pee, because fuck knew when he’d have another chance, but he walked out after, looking around to make sure that Frank wasn’t waiting for him outside after all.
Shame flooded his chest when he realized Frank had really left him. Dex was not worthy of his uncle’s trust, but as much as it hurt to acknowledge it, there was no time to waste for sentiment. Dex circled the gas station, so high on adrenaline even the pain in his shoulder seemed to dull. All he could think of was Hammer’s soft lips on his, the teasing tongue playing with his, and that strong arm around his shoulder.
It had felt so unlike the usual urgency of sex. Like something he wanted to last for as long as Hammer kept holding him in that firm, steady manner.
He would not let him die, regardless of the cost.
Standing in the cool glow of the lamp above, he looked at the parking lot stretching to his left. A motorcycle would have been a speedy way to catch up with Shane and Jag, but he wasn’t sure if his injured shoulder could take it. But then he spotted his own car, and the best road to Hammer’s safety appeared in his mind like a series of lightbulbs illuminating one by one. The window was broken, and he knew for a fact that his vehicle could be wired.
He glanced at the bright windows of the station diner, where Frank was waiting for him over a cup of coffee, angry and worried yet still willing to hear Dex out.
“I’m so sorry, Frank,” he whispered.
Chapter 16 – Hammer
By the end of this day, once the sun descended to hide beyond mounds of rusty cars and washing machines, the Executioner’s foes would be exposed to the elements, their naked bodies crooked and bleeding as their own body weight pulled them farther down sharpened stakes, making them their own worst enemies. But writhing and wriggling would only cause them more pain.
The rough texture of the rope rubbed Hammer’s throat all the way to the base of his jaw. It pressed down on the soft flesh beneath just enough to cause discomfort without keeping him from breathing. His back was flat against a thick metal beam that could have been an element in the frame of a building in its heyday. His arms were bent back around the rusty torture device, his hands cuffed so tightly he could feel an unpleasant tingling in his fingers.
Rain had passed over the junkyard, leaving his hair and clothes soaked, and now he stood still, with wind further cooling his icy skin while rainbows climbed the sky.
The clouds were a wild tangle of layers in all shades of gray, passing over him like puffs of cotton, their ripped edges as tattered as the feelings buzzing inside him.
He’d kissed Dex, and the moment it happened, those junkyard fuckers must have knocked him out. Had Dex known they were coming? Had the date been a trap, and the suggestion to stay in town longer—a way to keep him from returning to Cora’s ranch too early? But if that was the case, why wasn’t Dex with them? Was he too ashamed of looking Hammer in the eye after pushing him under the bus?
Only Shane and Jag were present in the van when Hammer had come to, so he presumed Dex had stayed behind to take his stuff from Cora’s.
His stomach became heavy, as if someone made him swallow balls of lead, to keep him in place.
He didn’t have the photos.
Mouth dry, he stared at the piles of rusty cars surrounding the shipping container prison behind him. Shane made it very clear that Lion and the others were coming to get him soon, and unless he had proof of Ryker’s misdeeds, they wouldn’t bother taking him away from this massive body disposal facility. Golden Boy Ryker had more than enough time to pour poison in everyone’s ears. So they’d say their peace, pretend to listen, and leave his body for the acid. The cold, hard ground. The trash compactor.
Another gust of wind froze his damp clothes to Antarctic levels of cold, making him shudder, but the instinctual attempt to fold his body in order to conserve heat ended when the rope choked him.
Fucking great.
A part of him wanted to loudly point out that his club wanted him alive, not frozen to death, but what was the point of it when the swarm of Demon Brethren MC was already on the way.