“You can’t keep doing this.” Viper put his foot down on the barbell Reaper was about to lift. “Your body can’t take this abuse.”
Reaper moved to the leg press machine, refraining from telling Viper that his body had tolerated far more abuse than lifting weights.
He added ten more pounds to the weights than Shade had pressed. “Fuck off.”
Viper moved to stand in front of him. “Don’t talk to me that way.”
“Then leave me the fuck alone!” he snapped.
“You only come out of your room to work out. It isn’t healthy.”
“I don’t look healthy to you?” Reaper turned his head toward Jewell. “Do I look healthy to you, Jewell?”
Jewell picked up her laundry basket. “I’m going to fold my clothes upstairs.”
“Don’t drag Jewell into our discussion.”
“Then don’t discuss my personal shit in front of her!”
“You’re right.” Viper strode toward the basement stairs. “By the way, I came down here to tell you that Lucky’s been calling you for the last hour. He wants to meet at the church.”
“Who else will be there?”
“He didn’t say. I was just relaying the message.” Viper left the bottom step to come back. “Talk to me, Gavin. Please.”
As Viper walked back, Reaper got a good look at his face. He had undergone a drastic change in just the amount of time he had been back. Viper’s haggard appearance placed another leaden weight of responsibility on Reaper’s back. His brother had been better off when he believed him dead.
“I would beg you to tell me what’s going on, if I thought it would do any good. Ton said that when he came here yesterday, you left after five minutes. He was only trying to talk to you.”
“Because he’s saying the same shit you are.” Getting off the machine, Reaper picked up a clean towel that Jewel had put out and started wiping the machines down. “There’s nothing to talk about. I’m fine and dandy.”
“No, you’re not. Reaper, you’ve been in a dark place since your escape. I understand your need for revenge, but it’s eating you alive.”
“I’m not the one who looks like he’s lost ten pounds. Quit worrying about me. If you hadn’t been worried about me, I wouldn’t have been kidnapped in the first place!”
Viper staggered back as if he had been struck.
Reaper wanted to shoot himself for causing the pain he witnessed at Viper’s reaction. Unable to repair the damage, though, he went to the stairs, going up two at time, practically running to his room to lock himself inside.
Going to his nightstand, he grabbed his phone, seeing the missed calls from Lucky. Texting him that he would be there in an hour, he went to his bathroom to take a shower.
Taking off his shorts, he threw them in a hamper before getting in the shower. Turning the water on, he stood under the cold water, fighting back the torment of emotions that were driving him insane because they couldn’t get free.
He slid down the shower wall to sit under the cold spray of water. Wrapping his arms around his knees, he rocked back and forth. Letting hatred overrule the other emotions of love, regret, and sorrow, he focused on the motivation he needed to make himself keep breathing.
Slate.
Vamp.
The Count.
They had to die … die … die ….
“You wanted to talk to me?” Closing Lucky’s office door, Reaper strode to take one of the chairs in front of his desk.
“Give me a minute. Now that you’re here, Knox is bringing some pictures to show you.”
“Of whom?”
“Arin has developed a new DNA test. It enhances the one that law enforcement departments are using—phenotypes—to create a picture of suspects from their DNA. Her program cross-matches with pictures for the new IDs that States are requiring everyone to have.”
Lucky stopped as the door to his office opened and Knox came in wearing his sheriff’s uniform and laid a folder on Lucky’s desk.
Lucky stared at the folder, his face a mixture of emotions. The pastor could possibly be battling his faith against the fate of the person in that folder who Reaper had been searching for.
Reaper wanted to rip the folder off the desk, but he let Lucky take his time.
“Using the DNA samples … that Hammer swabbed off the mattress as well as areas in the house before you torched it”—Lucky sucked in a deep breath—“Arin thinks she has found a possible match.”
Feeling detached, Reaper realized Lucky hadn’t been battling his faith; it was the hesitation of telling him that the person in the file had been one of his rapists.
“Actually, there are two possible matches in there,” Knox informed him. The brother to the side of Lucky’s desk opened the folder. “I watched the first video that Slate made of you. The couple matches the pictures that Arin sent. Fuckin’ unreal what Arin managed to do, I faxed the pictures to Hammer and Jonas, and they agreed.”
Reaper kept his gaze pinned to Knox’s face and not the pictures that were within eyesight. “I was so drugged that I wouldn’t recognize them,” he said numbly, leaning forward until the back of his blue jean barely hit the chair. He didn’t touch the pictures. He wouldn’t be able to if a gun were pointed at his head.
“You won’t have to.” Knox reached over, closing the folder. “This morning, Shade broke into their home while they were out and made a copy of their hard drive. Without a doubt, Arin found Vamp and The Count for you.”
Leaning back in the chair, Reaper pushed his feet down hard in his boots. “Shade broke into their home this morning?” Reaper didn’t feel his lips moving as he talked. He must have spoken, though, because Knox answered his question.
“Yes.”
Pressing his fingers on the side of his jaw, he felt the muscles contracting as he said, “Shade was at the clubhouse while I was working out.”
Lucky and Knox shared a glance before Knox responded. If his fingers weren’t on his jaw, he would haven’t believe he had spoken.
“They live nearby.”
“How close?”
Chapter Forty-Three
“May I help you?” The saleswoman’s frightened eyes darted around the jewelry store as if she were the one who needed help.
“I’m looking for a new watch.” Reaper answered, sweeping his hair back like the temperature machine had as it ran across his forward before he had even entered the door.
The saleswoman circled behind a horseshoe-shaped counter. “Is there a particular brand you’re looking for?”
“A Rolex Daytona.”
Her eyes widened with greed. “My name is Charline. Those pieces are in the safe. I’ll have to get the owner to get it for me. I’ll be right back.”
Observing the saleswoman going inside a glass office, Reaper saw the owner glance at him, then give a start of shock, as fear crossed his features.
Reaching for a pamphlet on the counter, he continued to watch as the owner said something to the clerk, before she returned.
“The owner won’t be but a moment. Is there anything else you would like to look at while we’re waiting?”