Total pages in book: 159
Estimated words: 149301 (not accurate)
Estimated Reading Time in minutes: 747(@200wpm)___ 597(@250wpm)___ 498(@300wpm)
Estimated words: 149301 (not accurate)
Estimated Reading Time in minutes: 747(@200wpm)___ 597(@250wpm)___ 498(@300wpm)
Cyrus made a strange noise – like a strangled word, wrapped around a groan.
“Oh, and you were right, Cyrus. I’m a horrible husband. I’ll give you that. I’m an adulterer. A philanderer. A killer. An extortionist. An abuser. A pervert. A liar when necessary, and much more, but I would never hurt a hair on the heads of any of my children or grandchildren. THAT’S FAMILY! MY SEED! You disgust me, Cyrus. Get him the fuck outta here,” he tsked. “Kage, he’s all yours…”
Kage marched up to his grandfather, machine gun aimed at him, and removed his weapon from his pocket, tossing it onto the floor, then patted him down to ensure that was all he was armed with. Then, without a word, Kage wrapped his gigantic hand around Cyrus’ neck. The old man clawed and gurgled as Kage dragged him slowly out of his office, down the hall past the large painting of the Madonna, and out the golden front door…
Arrivederci…
CHAPTER TWENTY-EIGHT
Down by the Riverside
Marian Anderson’s, ‘Deep River,’ played smooth and easy like, as if coming from a scratchy old LP record from Grandma’s house a great many years ago. The nostalgic melody climbed out of speakers in Kage’s truck, filling the cabin. A pair of metal skull hands swung back and forth from the mirror, and a subdued red glow from the large skull eyes on the front of his truck competed with the hues of the setting sun. Kage turned up the music a tad in an attempt to keep focus and quiet his inner emotions.
The classic spiritual songstress had been a contralto, and Kage recalled his grandmother educating him on such things as she played her gospel, blues and country records when he was just a little boy. She and Grandpa’s marriage hadn’t stood the test of time, but she claimed to be grateful because she’d learned from the experience. Kage shot the bastard a look.
Grandpa sat beside him in the passenger seat, his ponytail unraveled and his mood somber. His seatbelt was pulled so tight around him, it caused the fabric of his expensive jacket to indent and buckle like playdough wrapped in rubber bands. The old man’s mouth was duct-taped, his hands tied behind his back, and his ankles shackled. Kage’s jaw tightened as he piloted the truck over rocky terrain, and they drew closer to their destination. He’d daydreamed of this day since he was a teenager. The thought had sustained him during the darkest times of his life: that somehow, some way, he’d get his hands on Grandpa and bring him to his knees. Now that this was reality, all he felt was hot anger, rather than sweet relief.
He took the back roads, the little known overgrown paths that most folks had long forgotten about or didn’t know existed. Dark, cool areas that the sun barely kissed, past moss-covered tombs and run down graveyards along the side of the boulevard, with weathered markers from the 1800s.
Kage knew this area so well, he could drive it with his eyes closed. He’d placed quite a few bodies underground here, over the years. Folks that needed to be disposed of. Like the tweakers and meth heads who had tried to rob him, or the guy that kept showin’ up at Mama’s house, trying to scam her and get her money. Grandpa shot him a glance every now and again, but otherwise remained motionless.
The dread, however, showed in his eyes. The way the skin in between his brows bunched, and the darkening of his complexion as the blood rushed to his forehead told the truth of his worries. He was a shell. A soulless old heathen who’d sold himself to the devil long, long ago.
Kage felt his phone vibrating in his pocket, but ignored the incoming call. After a while, they pulled onto his property, and he navigated the path until they were at their terminus: the river. Today the water was calm, and the air a mere murmur with a slight, fragrant breeze.
The river had a subtle ripple, as if it were waiting patiently for a special guest. Kage parked, but didn’t cut the engine. He left the radio on just in case he needed assistance to drown out screams and horrific groans of agony, but it was damn near impossible to hear anyone out this way. Still, he preferred to be safe than sorry. There was another reason, too. He rather enjoyed the cries of his enemies, and he liked to hear them with music—an extra set of lyrics to a nice beat.
Hopping out of the truck, he went over to his grandfather. Swinging the passenger’s side door open, he made quick work of releasing the shackles from the old man’s ankles, and ripping the tape from his mouth. Grandpa huffed then swallowed the discomfort he undoubtedly felt. His lips were now red and raw, sticky looking in places. Leaving his hands bound, Kage yanked his arm and dragged him over to the riverbank. He looked down at the flowing, clear water—how pretty the green, brown and tan rocks were beneath the current, God’s tears racing over each one. He karate chopped the old man hard in the back, causing the bastard to drop to his knees. Then he knelt beside him, as if they were going to pray together.