Total pages in book: 60
Estimated words: 57888 (not accurate)
Estimated Reading Time in minutes: 289(@200wpm)___ 232(@250wpm)___ 193(@300wpm)
Estimated words: 57888 (not accurate)
Estimated Reading Time in minutes: 289(@200wpm)___ 232(@250wpm)___ 193(@300wpm)
“I can handle it,” he grunts back. The man’s voice is getting thinner. I saw faster, and the rope begins to give way. I get enough loose that Abe will be able to slip free and drop down myself, helping the older man ease his way to the ground.
“I’m calling 911,” Josie says, settling down next to her dad. “What can I do to make you more comfortable?”
“Nothing, Josie girl. Just having you here makes me feel good. Took about five years off my life when I realized you were missing.”
“I’m going back.” I palm the knife again.
“What?” Josie shakes her head, and her dad gives me a worried look.
“There are the other guys that are missing. They must be on the property.”
“Don’t go. It’s not safe.” Josie grabs at my leg.
“I have to. The old man is tied up. It’s going to be fine.”
“Let him go, Josie, but give him the gun.”
“No. I’ve got this, and trust me, I’ve faced a lot worse than that old man.” I pull up my T-shirt and show Abe my tattoo. “I’ve been part of the Riders since I was thirteen. I’m not an angel, sir. Far from it. My main way of earning money is chasing down people that owe money to the Riders for drugs, weapons, protection.” I shrug. I haven’t ever felt ashamed before, but I do sitting in front of Josie’s dad. He’s a real man, doing a real job, and I’m…a high school thug who probably won’t even graduate. “It’s been the only life I’ve known for a long time, and it’s real hard to leave.” I don’t know if he understands what I’m saying, that once you are part of the Riders, you are always part of it because you know secrets, you know things that could put your brothers in jail, because you’ve done things that could send you to prison.
Josie’s dad reaches up and pats my face. “Son, I’ve known who you are for a long time, and I’m okay with it. None of us are perfect. The fact is when you told me you don’t use any weapons, it set my mind at ease. You did what you could to survive, but I can see you’ve got a good heart, and you treat Josie like I want her to be treated. I’m not going to ask for anything from you that you can’t give. Just love Josie and protect her. That’s all.”
I nod because my throat’s too thick to get words past.
“You two are so sappy you might as well be girls.” Josie slaps me across the arm, but her eyes are suspiciously wet. I swoop in for a kiss and then take off toward the homestead before she, or her dad, can get another punch in. It takes me no time to arrive because I just shed about fifty pounds of worry and dread.
Mr. Patton is still on the ground. I watch him out of the corner of my eye as I head into the barn. There are no rooms or stalls. It’s a completely open structure without even a loft. If the boys are being held here, it’s underneath the floor. I start at the entry and stomp my way around, listening for a hollow, empty sound. I almost give up hope when, in the far corner, I nearly trip over a latch. There’s a lock around the closure.
I race out until I reach Cole’s dad.
“You’re going to hell, young man,” he says matter-of-factly when I get close.
“I know.” I haven’t lived a saintly life, that’s for sure. I resecure the ropes around his feet and hands before patting his back pockets for keys.
“My Cole was a good boy but then got lured to the dark side. I had to save him.”
“By killing him?” It was a good thing I was abandoned if this is how parents act. The back pockets are empty. I roll him to one side and feel in the front.
“It was an accident. God knows it was an accident.”
“He was strangled. Doesn’t seem like that was much of an accident.” The left pocket has the keys.
“I love him. He’s my boy. I’m going to join him in heaven.”
The man’s fanaticism sends chills up my spine. I take the keys and leave him behind. He’s yelling that he loves his son, loves Cole, but you do not kill the people you love. You protect them. You lay down your life for them. The kind of love Cole’s old man talks about is a sickness.
I unlock the padlock and throw open the hatch. A boy flies up, nearly beaning me in the face with something sharp. I scramble back and throw up my arms. “I’m on your side. I’m a good guy.”
The boy’s face is gaunt but feral. There’s a makeshift spike in his hand that looks like a piece of wood gnawed into a sharp, painful point. His downward motion is halted when he hears the chink of a shotgun pumped.