Reaper's Wrath: A Last Riders Trilogy (Road to Salvation Book 2)

by Jamie Begley

  “It has to be hard keeping it in the family. The taxes alone must be a killer.”

  “We’ve always been able to make ends meet.”

  Another evasive answer, which Reaper didn’t blame him for giving. It was none of his business how the Colemans had the funds to pay their property taxes.

  “How far were you able to walk today?”

  “I walked to Moses’ property. I got sidetracked with one of the dogs and spent longer there than expected.”

  “Doesn’t matter how long you stayed. You have nothing but free time until you’re ready to leave.”

  “I’ll be out of your hair in eight days.”

  “No rush. Stay as long as you want. But after eight days, your help would come in handy.”

  “Doing what?”

  “Milking the goats is the one chore that everyone hates. I’d get rid of them, but they’re too useful at keeping the brush manageable. The boys have already turned that job over to Ginny. You can give her a break if you decide to stay longer.”

  “I won’t.

  “It was just an offer for you to take or leave.”

  “I’m sorry, I didn’t mean to come off so rudely. I haven’t had the best day where your family members are concerned.”

  “You have words with Matthew or Isaac?”

  “No.” Shoving his uneaten plate away, Reaper couldn’t force himself to take another bite.

  “Ginny?”

  At his curt nod, Silas reached for his plate, setting it on his. Getting up from the table, he then carried the plates to the kitchen before coming back to clear the rest of the table.

  “You’re not going to ask what we got in an argument about?”

  “No. It’s better if I don’t while you’re staying here. I’m her big brother, not yours. If you were a dick to her, that’s your fence to mend, not mine.”

  “What if I don’t want to fix the damage I’ve done?”

  “Then why did you mention the argument with her to me?” Taking the basket of toast to the kitchen, he came back with a fried pie and a pot of coffee. “They’re apple.”

  “I don’t want anything.”

  Silas took his seat at the table, pouring them both cups of coffee.

  “Did she use the H word with you?”

  Reaper gave him a puzzled look.

  “Did Ginny tell you she hates you?” Silas clarified, taking a piece of pie.

  “No.”

  “Then she’ll get over whatever you fought about.”

  “It was bad enough that she should have told me she hates me.” He glumly stared at the apple pie. Apple was his favorite.

  Reaper could have sworn that Silas was inwardly laughing at him, but neither his face nor his voice gave any clue as to what he was thinking.

  “She didn’t, and that’s what counts. Count yourself lucky. That’s a bridge you don’t want to cross. When Ginny told me she hated me, it took years for her to talk to me again. Ginny doesn’t throw that word around lightly. She only said it to me once, and I never want to hear it come out of her mouth again. It hurts like a motherfucker.”

  “She’s better off hating me.” Taking a sip of the coffee, Reaper unintentionally picked up a piece of pie.

  “Ginny’s a good judge of character, and I trust her judgment. Maybe you should too.”

  “Her judgment sucks.” Taking a bite of pie, the fucking thing melted in his mouth.

  If Ginny still loved him after the way he had been treating her, she had more than one loose screw floating around.

  “Why?”

  “Have you met any of her friends?”

  “No.”

  “She’s friends with a man who runs a restaurant in Nashville.”

  “Ginny worked in a restaurant, then worked with catering for the band before she started singing. What’s wrong with being friends with him?”

  “The restaurant is called Dirty Dan’s, run by a man called Marty. He’s an asswipe.”

  “I see.”

  “She also has a friend that is her ‘stylist.’” Reaper put his fingers in the air to put emphasis on stylist. “She’s a fucking bitch. Ginny gave her a fucking car.”

  “Maybe Ginny had a reason to give her the car.” Silas refilled his coffee cup, then lifted the pot in his direction.

  Nodding that he wanted a refill, Reaper continued his rant.

  “Ginny should have fired Kimmy’s ass instead of giving her a car. Her worst lack of judgment is how she deals with one of the band members who constantly hits on her.”

  “What does she do?”

  “She tells him off.” Reaper snorted, picking up another piece of pie. “A punch in the nuts would stop real fucking quick.”

  “I imagine so. Would you like me to reheat the lasagna for you?”

  “No, I’m not hungry.” He wiped the cinnamon from his fingertips onto a napkin.

  “If you’re sure, I can show you the map if you’re still interested? I’d offer you more pie, but there isn’t any left.”

  “That’s cool. I really don’t like pie.”

  Standing, they went up the steps. Each of the doors above were cracked open, except for one; it was shut tight. The tiny hallway was a square with the doors surrounding the small area.

  Making a left, Silas led him into a large bedroom with a four-poster bed that took up half the room.

  “This used to be our father’s bedroom. I took it after he passed. And this is the map of our property.”

  Reaper moved to the wall where the framed map hung. More pictures of the Colemans were placed around the map. There were ten circles colored around the map, each one with a name inside the circle.

  Memorizing the map, he saw that Ginny’s and Leah’s parcels were next to each other. If he had kept walking, he would have seen it today. He knew where he was checking out tomorrow.

  Taking his eyes off the map, he looked at the pictures, drawn to the ones with Ginny in the images. Another little girl was always with her.

  One in particular drew his eyes. Ginny and the other girl both had long hair blowing in their faces. They were sitting on a blanket with a picnic basket in front of them and a tent behind them.

  “She was beautiful.”

  “Yes, she was.”

  Feeling as if he was trespassing on Silas’s grief at seeing the private photographs, he started to step away until a different picture caught his eye. This one was a round black mirror with stars inside.

  “That’s unusual.”

  “It’s a star map. Our father had them custom-made for each of us. It charts the stars on the night we were born. The one you’re looking at was Pa’s. Mine is over there.” The star chart that he indicted was hanging on the wall over Silas’s bed.

  Narrowing his eyes at Silas’s, Reaper went to it. “I don’t know who he paid to do them, but they’re wrong.”

  “How?” Silas folded his arms over his chest, leaning against one of the posts of the bed.

  “They have two different constellations that have been superimposed together.”

  “You’re that familiar with constellations that you can tell just from looking at it?” Silas asked.

  “I had to be. When I was in the Navy, more than once my life depended on that ability. These two constellations wouldn’t be in the same part of the sky.” Reaper traced imaginary lines over the mirror to show Silas without touching it. “It’s just not possible. Who did them must have messed up or didn’t know what they were doing. You should ask for a refund or ask them to be done over,” Reaper advised.

  “With that kind of mistake, I’m sure they went out of business by now.”

  “Could be. I would check and have them done right.”

  “I could, but they wouldn’t be the ones our father gave us. They wouldn’t have the sentimental value.”

  “I guess.” Reaper didn’t know why it bothered him that the mirrors were fake.

  Silas could see he didn’t agree with him. “You think I should replace the mirrors?”<
br />
  “They aren’t right.”

  “Reaper, the stars are never wrong.”

  Chapter Thirty-Three

  “You’re up early,” Reaper called out so he wouldn’t startle Ginny as she loaded a goat into an wooden stand, with his head was hanging out through the slates.

  “I went to bed early.” Moving to the side of the milking station, Ginny put a metal bucket under the goat, who’d since hung his head out between the slates. She gave him a brief glance before she started milking the goat.

  With short, efficient movements, he heard the sound of the milk hitting the side of the bucket.

  “You’re looking all refreshed,” she eventually said.

  “I went to bed early.” Repeating the same reason she was up early, he then uncomfortably opened and closed his mouth, trying to put into words what he wanted to say.

  “I’m sorry,” he finally muttered, wanting to say much more, but the words wouldn’t come out of his stupid mouth.

  “You’re forgiven.” Ginny slid the bucket out from under the goat, placing it on a small table next to her waist, before she started unloading the goat to release it back into the pen attached to the stand.

  “That’s it?” Dragging his hand through his hair, he wanted to rip it out in frustration.

  “What did you want me to say?”

  “I don’t know … I hate your fucking guts would be a good start.”

  “But I don’t, so I’m not going to say something I don’t mean.” Giving a low whistle, Ginny slid the gate open to the milking station again. “It’s your turn, Millie. Get her, Jack,” she ordered.

  Reaper moved closer to the pen and saw a flash of black and white fur singling out a particular goat from a herd of four. The dog skillfully maneuvered the goat until she had no choice but to go up the ramp.

  He gave a low whistle of appreciation. “What kind of dog is he?”

  “Australian Shepherd.”

  She hadn’t looked at him, except the brief glance she had given him, and continued milking the goat as if he weren’t there.

  “You hate me, don’t you?”

  “I could never hate you. You said what you were feeling. I can’t begrudge you for that.”

  “I didn’t have to be such a jerk.” Using his boot, he nudged a tuft of grass.

  “Do you mind if we don’t go over this?” Setting another pail of milk to the side, she told him, “I’m trying to get several chores finished for Silas.” Ginny slid the gate open, releasing the goat. Then, picking up the pails of milk, he realized she was leaving him behind when she started walking away.

  “Let me carry them for you,” he offered, reaching out to take one of the pails from her.

  Ginny swung the bucket away from him. “I can carry them myself.” Her lashes fluttered as if she was trying to find patience before lifting her eyes to his.

  “What do you want, Gavin? I accepted your apology. We’re good. You don’t have to pretend to be nice, so I won’t ask you to leave. Is that what you want to hear?”

  Staring down at the spilt milk on the ground, Reaper felt as if he was scrambling in the dark to illuminate the reason he had been so cruel to her yesterday without giving her hope there could be something between them.

  “Getting to stay here wasn’t what I was after ….” The thought hadn’t crossed his mind that she would want him to leave. It for fucking sure should have after the way he had spoken to her.

  Setting the pails down, Ginny opened the door to an outbuilding. Reaching inside, she turned a light on before picking the pails up and carrying them inside. “I know what you were after.” Opening a refrigerator, Ginny set the pails inside before turning back to him. “You lost your temper because I was coming on too strong. I can’t blame you because you’ve been telling me you don’t return my feelings. Sadly, I became the very thing I’ve been running from myself.”

  He gritted his teeth at her blaming herself. “Stop it, Ginny.”

  “I’ve come to the conclusion that I need to back off and give you space.”

  Why was it that, when she was giving him exactly what he wanted, Reaper felt as if his heart had just imploded, sucking all the oxygen out of the building.

  Striving to maintain his equilibrium, he placed a hand on wooden table, sending the bottles on top rattling.

  “Sit down, Gavin. There’s a stool right behind you.”

  Drawing a deep breath became impossible.

  With a firm hand on his shoulder, Ginny pressed him down. “Wow. Me backing off is that big of a relief?” Her attempt at humor didn’t help.

  Unconsciously, he started tearing at his shirt, feeling as if it were strangling him.

  Grabbing his hands, Ginny moved between his thighs. Releasing his hands, she then hugged him tightly. Side to side rocking movements had him gripping the stool as he tried to concentrate to get his lungs to work.

  “While we’re here, we should go through the freezers and pick out what to have for dinner tonight. How does steak sound? Silas can light the firepit, and we can grill them. Or I can put a roast in the oven. Which one sounds better?”

  “Steaks,” he gasped out.

  “What would you like for sides? I can make baked potatoes, mashed potatoes, or sweet potatoes. Which one?”

  “Baked,” he was able to wheeze his answer out.

  “How about dessert?” she asked, pulling his hair back from his face to tuck behind his ears. “We could have ice cream. I saw several flavors in the upright freezer over there.”

  Looking to where she was pointing, he saw a white freezer standing against the wall, next to a chest that was just as big. “Fried pie.”

  Her hand went to his shoulder to stroke down his arm. “Cherry, peach, or apple? Silas keeps his preserves in here so any of the boys can grab a jar to take to their house whenever they want one. There might be some blackberry on the shelf or blueberry. I can’t tell from here, can you?”

  He looked to the shelf that she was nodding at. Narrowing his eyes, he made out the scribble on the masking tape that Silas had used for a label. “They’re blackberry.”

  “Which do you want?”

  Breathing in a deep breath, he answered, “Apple.”

  “I was hoping you would pick that one. Apple is my favorite.”

  Taking another deep breath, he lifted his hand to wipe the beaded sweat away from his forehead.

  “You’ll have to help me carry everything.” Releasing him, she went to the chest freezer and opened the door to lean over the side. “Want to come help me pick out the steaks?” she urged. “Silas likes rib eyes. I’m going for the sirloin. How about you?”

  Getting off the stool, he shakily walked to the freezer, breathing in the cold air as it evaporated the clammy feeling from his skin.

  There was a variety of different choices that he could choose from.

  “Any T-Bones?”

  “Let me see. Those are Isaac’s favorite. He usually hides a couple under the hamburger … or he used to. Let me see.” Moving plastic bags that had been sealed and neatly labeled, Ginny raised one with a triumphant grin. “Found one. Do you mind holding the steaks while I get the potatoes and the preserves?” Ginny went to a basket that was laying on the ground, leaving the freezer door open.

  Reaper basked in the cold air, pretending an interest in the array of meat inside while Ginny shoved potatoes in her jacket pocket. Taking a jar of apple preserves off the shelf, she turned back to him.

  “You find anything else?”

  “No, I’m just amazed at how much is in this freezer. Are the others just as full?” He nodded toward the two other freezers against the other wall.

  “Yes. They’re definitely meat and potatoes men.”

  “The grocery stores in town don’t have this selection.”

  “They butcher two cows a year. There’s a farmer just over the border in West Virginia who sells Silas his pork products. That’s what’s in one of the other freezers, as well as chicken, which he buys
from the same hog farmer.”

  “What’s in the other freezer?”

  “Junk food. Frozen pizzas, pot pies, fries, corn dogs—whatever is on sale. Silas hits the sales and buys them in bulk.”

  “The Last Riders have one for the whole club. We should invest in another one. The freezer would pay for itself in six months with the way the brothers eat.”

  “Just make sure you have a backup power supply. We have a separate generator for this building. You could lose everything in the freezers if the power goes off,” she said, coming out of the building.

  Closing the door behind them, they began walking toward Silas’ house.

  “Must be a pain having to lug everything from his house to store them in the outbuilding, even if it makes it more convenient for your brothers.”

  “It would be if it were the only way there,” she agreed. “Fortunately, there’s a back way there. After we set the steaks out, we can take a walk, and I could show you.”

  As they walked, he realized he no longer saw the Australian shepherd. “Where did the dog go?”

  “Moses probably took him when we were inside. He was feeding the cows when you came and was going to take the goats to the north side of the mountain when he came back. I see they’re gone, so he must have.”

  “Do you think he heard?” he asked thickly. His hands started to burn from holding the ice-cold meat.

  “Heard what?” Ginny didn’t take her eyes off the path.

  “My lame apology,” he said thickly.

  “There wasn’t anything lame about your apology.” Placing the preserves in the crook of her elbow, she wound her free arm through his. “It was a straightforward apology, which I appreciated you saying.”

  “You’re not mad at me anymore?” Licking dry lips, which he blamed on the high altitude and the fear of how she would answer his question.

  “I was never mad at you.” She slipped her hand down to link their fingers together. “I was more hurt than anything else.”

  “You’re not hurt anymore?” He experimentally squeezed her hand inside of his.

  “No, I’m not hurt anymore.”

  Ginny squeezed his hand back, the motion releasing the stitch in his side, allowing air to flow freely through his lungs. The reason why was just as scary as having trouble breathing.