Ride and Reap (10 page)

To Kane’s surprise, the old man
gripped his shoulder. “Good to see you back, son.”

Those words would’ve staggered Kane
once upon a time, to hear approval from someone else’s lips, after being a
failure for the better part of his life. The remark was unlike Harvey though.
Would it be hoping too much time had softened the old man?

“You look well, Harvey. Been eating
better?” Kane had never been good at small talk, but still, Harvey Fisher
looked healthier than before he left. Fattened up, silver in his hair, but his
body kept the muscles and vigor of his youth.

Harvey circled the body, and Kane
had trouble keeping still.
Don’t fidget,
or give anything away. He’ll know.

Chapter Seven

Time dragged. Kane flinched at the
sound of Harvey taking one of his sharp knives from the sheaths on his belt.
How often had Harvey watched Kane practice in the yard, while he sharpened
those wicked blades? Plenty. Kneeling, Harvey dangled the hilt of the knife in
his fingers, and then prickled the side of Reaper’s muzzle, coming away with
blood. Sudden comprehension hit Kane.

“You need a bigger blade, Harvey,
if you plan to slice off the monster’s head cleanly,” Ash remarked.

The muscles of Kane’s jaw twitched,
as he nervously touched the revolver tucked inside his belt.

“I don’t want clean.” Harvey
coughed up a wad of spit, and aimed for between Reaper’s eyes. Reaper didn’t
twitch. “I’ll butcher this bastard if I need to.”

“Suit yourself. Boys, why don’t we
get some grub, while Harvey and Kane catch up?” Ash suggested to the two
trainees.

Something felt wrong. Kane knew it
deep down. He didn’t need his own wolf to tell him that. Harvey positioned the
edge of the blade against Reaper’s jugular.

“Wait,” the word came out harsh.

“Why would I wait, Kane?” Harvey
turned, cold and merciless black eyes landed on him. “Ash, hold him.”

Kane reached for his revolver, not
hearing the shot fired at him. Turning his head, he saw one of the trainees
pointing a gun at him, hands shaking. Pain blossomed in his left shoulder,
making him grit his teeth, his single moment of hesitation enough for Ash to
grab him. One thick arm wrapped around Kane’s chest, the other cut off his air
supply.

“If Ash rips off that bandage on
your neck, Kane, what would he find?” Harvey asked, voice dripping with venom.

Without another word, Ash peeled
the bandage off, revealing the two neat holes, Reaper’s bite mark, for the
entire world to see. Ash hissed, not loosening his grip on Kane.

His shoulder throbbed, but his gaze
fell on Reaper’s unconscious form.

Christ,
no
. If Harvey got his hands on Reaper— Fuck, Kane had heard Harvey talking
about what he wanted to do Reaper once he got his hands on the werewolf that
plagued his thoughts, and shamed him. A hard death, and Reaper deserved better,
not to die in some hick town, surrounded by enemies eager to see a shifter
suffer.

“I always knew you were a fucking
weakling.” Harvey spat again. “But I don’t blame you, son. You don’t have steel
in your backbone. Maybe you tried your best, but it hadn’t been enough. Instead
of killing you, the fucker marked you, and demanded you lead him to me. That
right?”

Despite struggling to breathe, Kane
couldn’t help himself. Hysterical laughter erupted from him, ragged and bitter.
“No, Harvey. You’re fucking wrong.”

“You going to beg for your
worthless life now, Kane? Tell me you badly wanted to live, so you let a
shifter enslave you?”

Kane didn’t miss the barely
noticeable movement of Reaper’s nose, scenting the air. Knowing the stakes,
Reaper continued playing dead. Normally, an experienced cold-blooded killer
like Harvey would’ve noticed such a hint in an instant, but when it came to
Reaper, Harvey let his emotions get the best of him, betraying his own teachings
about never showing weakness.

They were badly outnumbered and
stuck in enemy territory. For Reaper and him to survive this, Kane had to prick
at Harvey’s old wounds, and he knew where to deal the most damage. This plan
wouldn’t guarantee survival but he had to try. It took Kane long enough, but he
realized he wanted it all—a future with Reaper, and with the Hellhounds. “Oh I
pleaded. I fell on my knees, and begged Reaper to fuck me. Mate me. All of this
was done with my consent. I heard you did the same, not long ago.”

“What?” Ash muttered, looking at
Harvey, loosening his grip slightly on Kane’s throat. “That true, old man?”

“Lies,” Harvey snarled. “Would you
believe this spineless traitor, or your mentor, Ash?”

Taking advantage of the opportunity,
Kane slammed one foot into Ash’s booted ones. Groaning, Ash struggled to grab
hold of Kane, but he pulled his elbow back and slammed it diagonally upwards,
targeting his face. Bones crushed and blood gushed form Ash’s broken nose. Ash
went down, but he hooked one hand over Kane’s leg, bringing both of them down,
making Kane let go of his gun. The larger man fell on top of him, straddling
him, meaty hands around his neck. Kane jammed his knee upwards, aiming for
Ash’s groin.

“Fuck!” Ash covered his privates,
and Kane fumbled for his dropped gun. Hands around the handle, he didn’t bother
aiming. He fired upwards, emptying the chamber with a shrill scream, spraying
bits of Ash’s flesh and blood all over him.

“Reaper, now!” Kane didn’t need to
ask a second time, Reaper rose from the wheel barrel, still a little shaky from
the drugs. Spinning, Harvey let out a howl of rage, eyes narrowed, and spit
flying from his lips. In his fury, the old hunter forgot all the grace and
deadly movements he taught Kane. Reaper and Harvey fell to the ground,
wrestling.

A shot fired, but Ash’s corpse took
the bullet. The two trainees didn’t look prepared for the chaos. One fumbled
for his gun again, the other fired a wild shot, hitting nothing. With a grunt,
Kane shoved Ash’s heavy body away. Fuck, the bastard was heavy. Kane crawled
out, wincing as more shots fired. Nothing hit.

“Sorry, boys, I have no time to
deal with you.” Once on his feet, Kane aimed downwards, firing at the leg of
the first.

The man went down with a yelp. The
second was no wiser. Abandoning his gun, he ran at Kane, screaming, knife
raised, but Kane didn’t have the time for hand-to-hand combat. He pulled the
trigger, and then remembered he emptied most of his ammo on Ash. A stupid move,
but at that point in time, it felt satisfying. The trainee smiled triumphantly
at him, not seeing Reaper coming at him from the side. Canines closed over the
trainee’s throat, and Kane winced. At least it was a quick death.

“Fucking animal,” a voice hissed,
barely recognizable from the blood pooling from a ripped throat.

Kane jerked his head, noticing
Harvey.
Shit
. Reaper must have
abandoned the job to save his ass.

“You’re all mine,” Harvey roared,
hands ripping his shirt, exposing what Kane thought had been added weight and
muscle was actually leather straps and more dynamite than Kane had on his
suicide vest. The timer on his chest read ten seconds.

“Reaper!” Kane broke into a run,
Reaper swiftly keeping up and matching pace.

“No you fucking don’t! You’re all
going to hell with me.” A gun roared, must have missed, but Kane heard the soft
snarl from Reaper. Halting, Kane saw the bullet Reaper’s left hind leg impeding
his ability to run. God, how many more seconds? Kane stubbornly tugged at
Reaper’s fur, ignoring the snap of Reaper’s teeth, his silent protests.

“I’m not fucking leaving without
you,” Kane growled. “If you die, I go with you.”

“Go on, run, you fuckers. Don’t you
think I had a plan B, Kane? The entire fucking property is wired with
explosives.” Harvey let out a crackling laugh that seemed to go on forever.

That seemed to encourage Reaper to
keep on limping. More shots fired, but Harvey had his chance. From his
position, he wouldn’t be able to aim once Kane and Reaper started for the edge
of the house, back to the bike. Kane knew the moment when the bomb exploded.
The air became heated and for a second, Kane thought they wouldn’t be able to
make it.

“Fuck this, I want to live. We’re
going to live,” Kane screamed at Reaper.

He didn’t know how they made those
last few steps. Mounting Reaper’s bike, with Reaper settled in front, Kane slot
the key, and started the ignition. Blocks of plaster flew at Kane. The ground
underneath them wobbled. Kane stepped on the accelerator. More flecks of wood
and plaster flew at them. The engines of Reaper’s bike shrieked in defiance,
jolting into sudden motion.

A series of more explosions went
off. Kane’s ears rang, but he had to focus on getting Reaper and he out of his
mess. Harvey must have told the rest of New Melville’s citizens about his
betrayal, because hunters came out of their homes, toting guns, cursing him.
More engines rumbled, and Kane snuck a quick glance behind him to see refitted
trucks and cars, loaded with ammunition.

Reaper, seated in front, Kane’s
arms keeping him in place, pressed his nuzzle against Kane’s shoulder in
reassurance, perhaps letting Kane know they did their best. Whatever happened
from here onwards, it was enough, but was it really?

“Don’t. We’re not done. If this is
our last day on this miserable earth, we’re going to raise hell doing it,” Kane
said, and Reaper growled in approval.

They raced down the street. Reaper
let out a whine, and Kane looked at the rearview mirror to see the
stripped-down Plymouth Road Runner closing on them. A massive hunter peeked out
from the open top, toting what looked like a missile launcher on his one broad
shoulder. Kane skated the bike to the side, narrowly avoiding the missile. It
flew right at the closed gate, rending it open.

Unable to help himself, Kane let
out a whoop. They rode past the guards, who fumbled for rifles. How long would
their luck last? Kane went at full-speed, ignoring the fact the gas tank would
fall empty soon. Dogging their heels, New Melville followed, whipped into a
fury at the death of their leader. Dust and sand stirred in their wake. Engines
thundered. Sweat pooled down Kane’s back as he glanced at the mirror—six
vehicles now, and plenty of riders on bikes, screaming for their blood.

Skulls and rotting heads mounted on
either side of the broken road seemed to grin at their passing.

“We’ve had a wild ride, baby,” Kane
whispered. “But I’m not letting them get their hands on us. We’ll go together.
Before that, I want to say, I fucking love you, Reaper.”

Kane smiled grimly, keeping one eye
on the road, and at Reaper’s steady golden gaze. “Yeah, it surprised me too.”

“Hey, crazy fuckers!” a voice
yelled, vaguely familiar. “Let’s party.”

More engines roared in defiance,
wheels stirring dust and sand. Half a dozen steel hogs formed an arrowhead formation,
gunning for Kane’s direction. Pulse racing, Kane gripped the handlebars,
wondering if going off road would be a better alternative. Reaper buried his
head between his legs, making Kane groan. Teeth gently gripped the fabric of
his jeans. Kane squinted into the distance, and his heart nearly gave out in
relief.

Mounted on the back of one bike, a
ragged piece of cloth, a makeshift flag unfurled, unveiling the Hellhounds’ MC
logo. Kane saw clearly now, the grinning huge bastards in their cuts, toting their
own share of weapons. He recognized Sweet, riding ahead of the pack, a lean
flame-haired young man behind him, shouting at him to go faster.

“Duck!” Sweet yelled at Kane. What
had the biker planned?

The man riding behind Sweet, thrust
out a fist, and to Kane’s shock, summoned a ball of flames in mid-air. The
flames multiplied to four separate entities, the size of baseballs at first,
growing larger, to the size of cannon balls. The firestarter let his elemental
projectiles fly. Kane dodged the bike to the side, barely missing the flames as
they sped past Reaper and he, at unbelievably high-velocity speeds.

Kane knew the moment they found
their target. He cranked on the accelerator as vehicles exploded, sending bits
of metal and flesh flying. The other Hellhounds swept past them, laughing,
clicking the safety off their rifles, and started shooting. Wary, Kane stopped
the bike by the side of the road, and looked at Reaper between his legs,
flashing a wolfish grin at him.

“You guys are crazy.”

Another bike swerved to the side of
the road, stopping beside theirs.

“Injuries?” Mercy got off his bike,
plucking a first-aid kit from the sidesaddle bag on his bike.

“Reaper’s shot,” Kane explained.
With Mercy’s help they got Reaper down. Another series of explosion rang in the
distance, and his spine prickled. Men screamed, in fear, in fury. The hunters
didn’t take defeat lying down. Even outnumbered, they spat obscenities,
hollered threats. The Hellhounds’ momentary victory wouldn’t last long though.
More gunfire tore through men and metal, but Kane didn’t give a fuck about what
went on. All that mattered was Reaper, and he trusted the Hellhounds to pull
trough.

Mercy seemed to know what he was
doing. He checked Reaper, instantly focusing on his more serious injuries.
“Need to do this fast,” Mercy said. “We planned to save your sorry asses, and
then get the hell out, because we can’t take on an entire compound with so few
of us. Hold him steady.”

Nervous, Kane stroked Reaper’s fur
to calm him down. A wave of protectiveness swept through Kane when Reaper
rested his muzzle over his thing. “It’s going to be okay, baby. We’re safe,”
Kane told Reaper, who let out a weak grunt.

“Did you guys succeed?” Mercy
asked, extracting the silver bullets with a pair of sterilized forceps, and
quickly began sealing the wounds with bandages. “That will do for now.”

“Yeah. Fisher’s dead. Mercy, who’s
the guy with Sweet?” Kane asked as Mercy helped him carry Reaper back to the
bike.

“His mate, Phoenix.” Mercy grinned.
“Useful, isn’t he? Sweet’s a possessive bastard though. He only let Phoenix
come because Reaper’s life was at stake.”

“Remind me to never cross Sweet,”
Kane muttered.

They both ignored the big wolf’s
snarls as Kane fussed over him. Kane looked down at Reaper. “Stop whining. We
need to get the hell out of here.”

Mercy looked impressed. With Reaper
back in place, they mounted their bikes. The rest of the cavalry turned tail
the moment larger war machines rumbled out of the compound—Post-Fall tanks and
massive wheelers refitted with gun turrets.