Page 52 of Razor
Folded over his thighs, Razor allowed himself to rest for a few minutes before continuing to test his flexibility. Razor kept an ear tuned into the noise above him. He hoped the Ravagers wouldn’t come check on him. His boots were the next challenge.
Couldn’t he have worn sneakers today? The chunky sole created a huge roadblock. Wait! A hard plastic tab identified the brand on the back of the heel. On one side, it had peeled away from the worn rubber. The mechanism of the strip used to bind him would stay closed unless he could shift the part clamped on the teeth. Could he use that tab on his boot to lift the locking bar of the zip tie?
Forcing his legs to bend to the side, Razor twisted his torso to improve his view. He rotated the locking mechanism on the strip so he could maneuver it carefully. The tension eased slightly on the zip tie. Yes! That will work!
Razor pushed his celebration aside and concentrated on his task. Seconds ticked by like hours as he struggled to slide the tab into the right position. Footsteps walked across the floor toward the door. Get this done now! He yanked the hard logo and snapped it off as the circle around his wrists enlarged. Quickly, he pulled his hands through the band as he straightened his legs out in front of him again.
He slumped against the wall, hiding his freed hands behind him as a set of boots appeared on the stairs. Others followed. Razor didn’t pretend to sleep. He glared at the men as they descended.
“Good. You’re awake. Hopefully, that means you don’t have a head injury. Welcome to the Ravagers. I’m Viper, the president. We’re delighted to have your skills to heal our MC now,” the first biker told him.
“That’s not going to happen,” Razor snarled.
“That’s what you say now, but you’d sing a different tune if we grab your lady friend. She looks real sweet. My brothers don’t usually go for her type, but they’ll have a few rounds for variety.”
“Touch her and die,” Razor said through his teeth as he fought to control the anger brewing inside him. No one would harm a hair on Honey’s head without suffering the consequences.
“What was her name, Spyder?” Viper asked.
“Something sweet. Candy, Taffy…. No, it was Honey,” Spyder said. His words slithered over Razor’s skin like slime.
“Honey isn’t in my life anymore. She won’t work as a pawn,” Razor said, forcing his voice to sound detached as he studied Spyder. Razor didn’t spend a lot of time inside Inferno, but the younger man seemed vaguely familiar. Viper must have sent him into the Devil Daddies’ club to gather information. Lucien didn’t miss much. How had this guy fit in so well?
“So, the touch-her-and-die threat was a lie? Tsk, tsk. I thought doctors were supposed to tell the truth. Isn’t that the oath they take?” the leader asked.
“Their oath is to do no harm. Or some shit like that,” Spyder suggested.
“The things bikers learn from TV,” Viper joked. “Anyway, now that we have that settled, as I said, you’ll work for us.”
Razor gripped his hands behind his back, using the pain of his broken fingers to keep him from lunging at Viper. “You’d actually trust me with sharp objects around?”
“Definitely. You won’t force us to kill you when we both know who would die a painful death after you’re cold.”
Vicious anger filled Razor. He locked his muscles to prevent himself from attacking and forced himself to study the MC president for weaknesses. Everyone had one.
When Razor didn’t react, Viper’s expression hardened, and his eyes narrowed. Viper’s threatening glare held no conscience or compassion. The term lethal popped into Razor’s mind.
During his psychology training, Razor had met a few individuals with absolutely no remorse over the horrific acts they’d done. Viper fit the profile. His skin crawled. If Viper set his aim on Honey, he would follow through on anything he stated. Maintaining his reputation in front of the other Ravagers was only part of his motivation. Individuals like Viper genuinely enjoyed inflicting pain on others.
“I’m not going to be able to treat anyone until I get my injuries attended to,” Razor deflected Viper’s attention away from a standoff between them. Viper would never stand down.
“Our clinic is a bit under-supplied right now. Make a list of what you need, and we’ll pick up the necessities over the next few days. You’ll survive until then,” Viper told him.
Razor tensed, hoping the president wouldn’t give the order to release his hands. They wouldn’t be pleased that he’d freed himself. To his surprise, Viper turned and waved the others up the stairs.
When the room emptied, leaving Viper alone with Razor, the MC president paused. “Don’t try anything. If your legs happen to get broken or, say, chopped off, you can still dig out a bullet. In fact, it might be fun to carve away different pieces of you to see when you’d lose the ability to practice.”
A chill ran through his blood. Viper had already planned Razor’s demise. In a twisted mind like the MC president’s, those thoughts wouldn’t disappear. At some point, Viper would follow through on his desire to maim Razor.
Schooling his features into indifference, Razor maintained eye contact. Showing fear to an individual like Viper would feed his aggression. Outwardly challenging him would cause Viper to assert his dominance. Still shackled by the zip tie around his ankles and weakened by injuries, Razor wouldn’t stand a chance. He’d bide his time to get away.
“I’m not staying here anymore. I have to help somehow.” After two days of sitting around Razor’s cabin with infrequent updates, Honey felt like climbing the walls. Different MC members came to check on her regularly with updates. This time, Vex had found her on Razor’s front porch, watching the road.
“Honey, there’s not much we can do,” Vex said, attempting to soothe her ruffled feathers. “We’re combing the city, looking for him.”
“That’s not working. Try something else.”
“I’ll suggest that at the meeting this morning,” he assured her.
