Total pages in book: 157
Estimated words: 145088 (not accurate)
Estimated Reading Time in minutes: 725(@200wpm)___ 580(@250wpm)___ 484(@300wpm)
Estimated words: 145088 (not accurate)
Estimated Reading Time in minutes: 725(@200wpm)___ 580(@250wpm)___ 484(@300wpm)
His life might have been a short one, but at least he’d had some fun in the end.
Despite the rain, Jag sat next to him like a guard dog. To be fair, he was wearing his junkyard warrior gear, which included a hooded leather jacket that made him look like a dystopian assassin, so he wasn’t getting nearly as wet as Hammer.
Shane, on the other hand, sat cross-legged in the van parked nearby. He appeared relaxed as he played with the smoke from his cigarette, but Hammer wasn’t fooled. This guy had spent ten years in prison and now worked for Frank. If push came to shove, he wouldn’t hesitate to use the gun at his side.
Hammer wasn’t sure if it was boredom, or if something changed in him more permanently, but after two weeks with Dex, he no longer perceived other men with indifference. And this new eye told him that Shane was a handsome guy, in a rugged kind of way. Not that Hammer had any warm feelings for him after the way Shane had manhandled him earlier. But he’d been tied to this metal for over an hour (or an eternity), so he had to kill time somehow.
For example playing a game of Fuck, Marry, Kill in his head.
Excluding Dex, who he’d obviously fuck, he rolled the three other gay men he knew in his head. He’d fuck Shane, for obvious reasons, and he’d kill Frank, because the guy was the least his type. That would leave him to marry Jag, who, according to Dex, was soft-hearted and might prove easy to handle in the long term.
At the end of the day, though, the game was a thought exercise that made him realize his taste in men was specific, and none of these guys fit the bill. Shane was the closest match, though unless he had a secret submissive side—which was doubtful, since his boyfriend was a serene-looking, artsy waif—he might be too much of a hassle even for a quick hook-up.
Dex had been the one to flip the dusty switch in Hammer’s brain, which he might have buried many years ago, to keep himself safe in juvie. Yet all the slavish declarations, all his smiles, and everything they’d shared during their short yet intense time together meant nothing when it came to the people with whom Dex’s real loyalties lay.
Hammer had been too out of it to remember the exact moment he had been taken, but Frank wouldn’t have hurt his nephew, and that meant Dex was probably sulking at home, his back turned away from Hammer, as if the strange connection they’d forged had been meaningless. If that was true, Dex was more of a psycho than Hammer.
Maybe it made him the pathetic kid crushing on another guy in this story?
Shuddering from the cold, Hammer bit his lip as rain started tapping on his head again, each drop like a finger pointing out his naivete. What if he’d underestimated Dex’s intelligence all along? The kid had proved how well he understood human nature during the conflict at the axe-throwing range, so maybe the whole calf-eyed dummy thing was an act?
It wasn’t impossible, yet he didn’t want to believe it. It was far more probable that Dex had simply caved under pressure and left Hammer to rot.
“Wanna smoke in case it’s your last?” Shane asked as he threw his old cig to the wet ground.
“He doesn’t deserve the privilege!” Jag snapped, squinting at Hammer. He’d been the one to arrange the convoluted torture setup with the noose. Of course.
“Such a good Samaritan,” Hammer mumbled, before glancing at Shane. “Yeah, I want one.”
Without missing a beat, Shane put a fresh cigarette in his mouth and lit it, then approached Hammer with it. But when Hammer attempted to lean in, Shane stalled, keeping the filter out of reach.
“Bet you had lots of fun with our Dex.”
Oh, so this was psychological torture?
He could take that.
“Fuck you.”
Jag shook his head, and that made the hood slide farther down his forehead, making his face disappear as if he were a cultist in some convoluted horror plot. “You will pay for what you did. Seducing him like that. He deserves a good mate,” he said from under the stream of water cascading off his hood.
Shane shrugged, still keeping the cig out of reach, while teasing Hammer with its scent. “I don’t think it was hard to seduce him at all. What I don’t get is what your deal is with him.”
Hammer snorted and spat at the cigarette, making sure the bastard knew it was no longer wanted. “None of your business. I’m dead anyway.”
Shane sighed like a movie villain and stomped the cigarette into the mud. “Why don’t you entertain us a little then? Maybe you should play nice, in case you do end up living and don’t want your business with Dex aired to your club.”