Dylan’s Reaper
Soul Reaper #3
By J.D. Lowrance
Text copyright © 2015 by J.D. Lowrance
Cover photo: Studio10Artur/shutterstock
Cover design: J.D. Lowrance
Editor: A.D. Bednego
This ebook is intended for adult readers only. It is a work of fiction. The names, characters, places, and incidents are products of the writer’s imagination or have been used fictitiously and are not to be construed as real. Any resemblance to persons, living or dead, actual events, locales or organizations is entirely coincidental.
This ebook is licensed for your personal enjoyment only. This ebook may not be re-sold or given away to other people. If you would like to share this book with another person, please purchase an additional copy for each recipient. If you’re reading this ebook and did not purchase it, or it was not purchased for your use only, then please return it to the author and purchase your own copy. Thank you for respecting the hard work of this author.
Dear Reader: This is the third book in the series. Don’t miss out on Logan’s Reaper (Soul Reapers #1) and Campbell’s Reaper (Soul Reapers #2) available at Amazon.com.
Happy reading!
J.D. Lowrance
DEDICATION
To all of my fans out there.
You are the cream in my coffee,
the mac in my cheese!
Happy Reading.
xoxo
TABLE OF CONTENTS
DEDICATION
PROLOGUE
CHAPTER ONE
CHAPTER TWO
CHAPTER THREE
CHAPTER FOUR
CHAPTER FIVE
CHAPTER SIX
CHAPTER SEVEN
CHAPTER EIGHT
CHAPTER NINE
CHAPTER TEN
CHAPTER ELEVEN
CHAPTER TWELVE
CHAPTER THIRTEEN
CHAPTER FOURTEEN
CHAPTER FIFTEEN
CHAPTER SIXTEEN
CHAPTER SEVENTEEN
CHAPTER EIGHTEEN
CHAPTER NINETEEN
CHAPTER TWENTY
CHAPTER TWENTY-ONE
CHAPTER TWENTY-TWO
CHAPTER TWENTY-THREE
CHAPTER TWENTY-FOUR
CHAPTER TWENTY-FIVE
CHAPTER TWENTY-SIX
CHAPTER TWENTY-SEVEN
CHAPTER TWENTY-EIGHT
CHAPTER TWENTY-NINE
EPILOGUE
PROLOGUE
Dylan
I was in hell. But that could not be right as I was still breathing, if just barely. My place of torment was a run-down farmhouse that lacked basic necessities like running water and electricity. Time ceased to have a hold on me as my subconscious hid away behind the walls I erected to keep my sanity in the face of the devil himself.
Hell, a four letter word.
No matter how big I built those walls, they came crashing down every time they took a cigarette to my exposed skin or a lighter to the underside of my breasts or fingertips. Their fists and feet may break my bones, but flames of fire do the most damage.
Fire licked across my skin as a scream ripped from my lungs. I could feel my tormentor’s harsh laughter fan across my naked chest from how close he stood to me. My nipples pebbled as a chill ran through my body. A natural reaction from the momentary relief of pain as my adrenaline kicked in from my fight or flight reflex.
“I think she likes it,” crowed the scariest motherfucker I had ever met in my life. The second was the man who turned me over to my current hell.
“Damn, you’re right Prez,” and more murmurings responded to his claim.
Damn, a four letter word.
That was me to a tee. Damned to this hell of my own making. I never thought I would see the day where I said my mother was right. BUT DAMN! Rebecca Price nailed this one. “Stay the fuck away from bikers.” The only words of advice she ever cared enough to share in between her long absences and crazy explorations. And did I listen?
Nope. Nada. No.
And my only hope of getting out of here was the same person who said nothing when I was brought here. Samael, my very own angel of death clad in thick muscle and leather and two deep dimples. As if one was not enough. Oh God, Sam! How could you do this to me?
Another cry from me echoed throughout the farmhouse followed by more laughter. The smell of cigarette smoke and burning flesh invaded my nose and turned my stomach. I gagged, earning me a back hand. Liquor-infused breath blew across my face as bile rose up my throat. I felt myself choking on it as I fought to keep the darkness creeping from the corner of my eyes to overtake me as it always did.
“Deep breath,” my tormentor advised as his face came level with mine. His one blue eye and one red eye bore into mine as he continued, “don’t want you passing out before the real fun starts.” More laughter.
A cellphone rang drawing the attention and silence of everyone in the room. My head hung, too heavy to look at my purse as “Ain’t Nothing Gonna Break My Stride” filled the quiet.
“What do we have here?” asked my crazy-eyed tormentor. He dug through my purse but the phone stopped ringing right as he went to swipe the screen. “Darn,” the Prez pouted. “I missed the call. Hope it wasn’t . . .” as the phone rang once again. “Hello.” His velvety voice smooth as if he was not about to just light my skin on fire.
“Where the fuck is she?” Samael’s voice boomed.
“Now now. It that any way to start a conversation. So rude,” earning him muffled sounds of approval from his minions.
“Crazy Z if you don’t fucking tell me . . .” So the Prez was a crazy bastard after all.
“Samael.” The finality in his voice halting Sam’s rampage in its tracks. “The Hellhounds made an even trade, a favor for a favor, with the Night Demons. We get your girl in; you give me the girl I want.” Crazy Z came back to stand in front of me, wedging the phone between his ear and shoulder. He took the cigarette from his mouth with one hand, blowing the smoke directly in my face as the other hand palmed my breast. I hissed from the contact.
“Dylan was not part of the deal. It was supposed to be her mother.” Sam’s voice was deadly calm.
“We will leave her in good enough shape to fulfill her deal,” Crazy Z said as he eyed me up and down. “Plus your President was the one who informed us of how she was connected to the Soul Reapers.”
That’s right. My long lost family that never wanted me.
“I will come for her,” proclaimed Sam.
“No you won’t. Because if you do,” Crazy Z paused as he inhaled the last of his cigarette before flicking it away. His movements so fast I could not track them as his hands found my bound wrists around my head and separated my right from my left. Taking the left one in his hands, he applied enough pressure to make me howl in pain.
“Dilly,” Sam bellowed.
“I will break her other wrist.” With a quick twist pain shot up my arm as I screamed until everything went black.
CHAPTER ONE
Knox
War was brewing! It always was when two groups wanted the same thing; each battle a step closer. Constant retribution was sought after for the losses felt in each clash. The memories of them never dying; never allowing us to lay at peace. The victor of this war, a war of our making, would only be found through extreme violence. The more savage the brutality the faster the victory.
I had already come to terms with my role in this war. Baaaa! A member of the flock that would follow its shepherd blindly anywhere he went. The intel from Wesson that the Hellhounds were gearing up for a hostile take-over did not sit well with me or any of the brothers. It was time to take matters into our own hands and di
ctate the ending of this war story.
Now it was time for another battle. I was hoping for something epic, but knew it would be a smash and grab type of operation. Get in and get out with an alive Baxter Reed in tow. As our entourage pulled off the highway, heading towards where we had to meet Trigger and Rabbit, our bikes roared down the quiet country road.
Usually this was my favorite part, the solitude of the ride with a pack full of brothers surrounding you. Nothing said freedom like an open country road and the white noise of the wind as my bike rumbled underneath of me.
But not today. Today was about taking back something that belonged to us. Just as we pulled off the road, there sat Trigger and Rabbit. The roar of the bikes came to an abrupt stop and a blanket of silence enveloped us as we all dismounted and made our way over to them.
“Brother.” Trigger nodded to Colton and then the rest of us.
“Any updates?” Colton asked as he surveyed the area. I turned slightly to see behind us knowing that our enemies had eyes and ears everywhere.
“Nothing new,” answered Rabbit. “No movement since they carried Baxter into the house.”
“What’s the plan?” Tank’s impatience evident as he cracked his neck from side-to-side.
“Trigger, Rabbit, and Tank take the back. Whistler, Knox and I go through the front. Shoot anything that moves and ask questions later.”
“Sounds like a plan,” Tank said as he gestured for Trigger and Rabbit to lead the way.
Fifteen minutes later we were all crouched down watching for any movements from the house. It was too quiet. There were no guards or lookouts. Nothing! The Hellhounds were either the stupidest assholes in the world or something was wrong.
“Let’s split up. Tank wait until you hear gunfire before you storm the back door,” instructed Colton as Tank led Trigger and Rabbit around the back of the house.
“Whistler, you kick in the door. Knox you cover me as I go in.”
“Done,” I responded as Whistler made his way around the front of the house. All three of us stayed low as we ducked under one of the front windows before reaching the door. Whistler used his fingers to count to three before kicking in the door.
“Oh shit” and other cries of alarm went up as my gunfire rained down on what looked to be two guys in the living room. Colton ran through the hallway at the same time a crash and then more gunfire sounded from the back of the house.
“I see two,” yelled Colton as he took cover behind a pillar in the hallway.
I squeezed the trigger a few more times before I heard the unmistakable thud of a body hitting the floor. “I got one,” I called to Colton as he rounded the pillar firing two more shots. Silence descended on the house as Colton and I came out from our cover to see two dead Hellhounds.
“Tank,” called Colton.
“Clear,” he yelled back as I made my way to the back of the house.
“That was way too easy.” I heard Colton say to Whistler.
“How many up front?” Tank questioned as I walked into the kitchen to find another Hellhound face down swimming in an ever-expanding red pool of his own blood.
“Two.”
“Two, plus this guy here,” responded Trigger.
“What the fuck? Only three guys? It’s like the Hellhounds don’t even care.” Tank said as he paced back and forth. His uneasiness set me to high alert.
“I found Baxter,” hollered Colton from the front of the house. Trigger and Rabbit rushed out of the room towards Colton’s voice.
“I’ll check out the rest of the house,” I told Tank as I took the stairs two at a time. Pausing, I lifted my gun before stepping onto the second floor. A dark hallway and a musty smell greeted me as I scanned my surroundings.
Three closed doors were all that I could see as I inched my way towards the first one. I quickly opened it, stepping back in case someone fired at me. When silence continued I stepped into the room to clear it before moving on to the second door to find an empty bathroom. A soft whimper sounded from behind door number three. My steps quickened as my adrenaline spiked.
After two quick breaths, I turned the knob and stepped into the room, gun pointed straight ahead as I surveyed the room. No blinds on the window allowed the moonlight to cast shadows throughout the room. It was bare except for ropes that hung from the ceiling and a mattress in the corner. A few feeble noises of what sounded like pain came from the corner as I slowly approached it. There lay a naked body of what appeared to be a woman. Her skin so pale it caught and held the moonlight. I knelt down next to her, taking in the dark marks that blemished her body. My gun no longer needed found its way into the back of my pants as I reached out and touched her. Still warm, thank God.
“No more.” Her words shredded me. “Please leave me alone,” she mumbled. I put a hand on her shoulder in an attempt to comfort her, only to have her flinch and whine in response.
“Shhh,” I soothed. “Come on, let’s get you out of here.” I shrugged my cut off so that I could give her my long sleeve shirt to put on. As I lifted her head to put my shirt on her, her hair fell away from her face revealing eyes so swollen she could not even open them. I boiled on the inside at what was done to her as I calmly said to her, “What’s your name sweetheart?” My question was met with silence as I gently put her head through my shirt. She screamed in pain when I grabbed her left hand to try and guide it into the shirt. The girl went limp in my arms as she passed out.
“Fuck,” I yelled. I gingerly turned her hand over and saw that it hung at an odd angle. They broke her fucking wrist. My slow simmer boil turned into a raging inferno for this poor girl. Did the Hellhounds do this for shits and giggles or was there a purpose behind this needless violence? I carefully finished dressing her before scooping her up into my arms.
Although marks marred her skin, you could tell from the creamy complexion that she was a sight to behold. Her body long and lean as I folded her into my chest, being sure that my shirt covered as much of her as possible. The beauty in my arms whimpered once again as I descended the stairs.
“I got you sweetheart.” And I did. A protective instinct I never felt before reared its head as my words sunk deep into me. No matter what happened next I would take care of her. I knew this as fact from the deepest part of me. Nothing and no one would hurt her again.
Dylan
Pop. Pop. Pop-pop-pop. Sounds pulled me from my safe haven of oblivion as I tried to get my bearings. The musty smell of the farmhouse and my aching body brought everything crashing back as I tried once again to open my eyes. More of what sounded like gunfire. Gunfire? Oh shit, maybe Samael really did find me.
Silence and then muffled voices could be heard downstairs. My heart lurched as the steady sound of footsteps could be heard on the stairs. Oh shit. Whoever those steps belonged to was either going to save me or kill me. I felt that truth in the depth of my soul.
The trepidation was too much and I tried to sit up so that I could at least face where I thought the door was, but the pain was too great and I cried out. The footsteps stopped again. Shit, they heard me. My heart thundered in my chest as I felt the storm of the last few days coming to a head. A quick turn of the knob and I heard the door fly open as heavy footsteps moved closer and closer still. I held my breath as if no movement on my part would make me invisible, but I knew whoever it was could see me. There was nothing in this room but me and the decrepit mattress my body rested on. I wished my eyes were not swollen shut so I could at least see my fate before I met it blindly.
A body knelt next to mine. My lungs burned with the need for oxygen. I willed myself not to move, even as my self-preservation kicked into high gear. I drew in a breath very slowly taking in a scent that was all male and open road, right as I felt a finger poke my shoulder.
“No more.” My voice did not even sound like my own; hoarse and brittle. “Please leave me alone,” I begged. The stranger put a hand on my shoulder. I whimpered in pain as I tried to shrink away from him.
“
Shhh,” came a deep baritone voice that reached inside of me and took hold. I found immediate comfort in that voice; so much so that I wanted to turn into him and bask in that comfort.
“Come on, let’s get you out of here.” There was what sounded like a shuffling of clothes, which should have concerned me, but between the pain I was in and his freely spoken words of comfort I could not find any. My head was lifted as I felt cotton fabric against my body. My hair fell from my face and I felt my rescuer cringe, knowing he saw what they had done to me.
A moment later in a voice I did not recognize but would never forget again, he asked, “What’s your name sweetheart?” My past experience told me that them not knowing my name was my biggest advantage, but could ultimately be my downfall as it had been with the Hellhounds. I remained silent hoping against hope that he would drop it. God finally listened as he began to dress me, putting a shirt over my head. I dreaded what came next knowing that my broken wrist would have to be put into the arm of the shirt. Knowing and being prepared were two totally separate things as he grabbed my left hand. I screamed at the pain, at the fury the pain brought, at the pit of darkness that once again swallowed me alive as I fell into it.
CHAPTER TWO
Dylan
I came awake slowly, bathed in a warmth so encompassing I never even knew something like this existed, especially for someone like me. It seeped into my limbs, soothing my aching muscles as it made its way to my very soul. A deep breath told me I was still being carried by my rescuer. The feel of leather against my hand let me know that he was part of another club, or maybe the same club, who knew at this point.
Sounds of night were all around us as I felt my rescuer shift slightly as he carried me up steps. The shuffling of other feet told me we were not alone. A cell phone rang, piercing the silence that hung over the group.
“Answer it before it wakes her up,” my rescuer rumbled. The hinges of a screen door squeaked as he carried me over the threshold and inside. My eyes throbbed to the beat of my heart as I tried to open them. I whimpered against the extreme discomfort as I tried again and again.
Dylan's Reaper: Soul Reapers #3 Page 1
