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Careening down the side of the mountain, he glanced up and asked for guidance. For an answer. For enlightenment. For fucking anything.
Then he went flying around another sharp curve and his tires hit a patch of wet sand mixed with some loose rock. The Kawasaki lost traction and slid onto its side, dragging Gray beneath it and across the road.
Sparks flew, his helmet flew and the pavement came up to crack against his skull.
???
Gray didn’t know if he was alive or dead.
For a long moment, he laid on his back as a light rain sprinkled down around him, coating his face with a fine, wet mist.
“Is that him?” a deep voice asked.
“Yeah, that’s Demon.”
“You said he could be moody. I don’t recall you mentioning anything about being batshit crazy,” another voice commented dryly.
Gray’s eyes fluttered open and he squinted through the haze of drizzle and darkness. A group of men stood there, staring down at him. They each wore a tactical neck gaiter, so Gray couldn’t see any features below their eyes.
“Who are you?” he rasped, pushing up onto an elbow. A sharp pain sliced down his left side where he’d wiped out, and he grimaced.
“You wanna die?” a man with gray eyes asked.
Do I?
“Because we’ll grant your wish.”
No,Gray decided. Maybe he wasn’t ready to leave this Earth yet. And maybe these men were the answer he’d been searching for.
Without warning, a man with black eyes tossed a bag over his head.
Shit.Maybe not.
Chapter One
After a bumpy ride in the back of an SUV, strong hands dragged Gray out and led him forward.
“You’re going to be okay,” a low, familiar voice assured Gray near his ear.
Gray recognized Zane’s voice and relaxed slightly. Although he had no idea what the hell was going on, he knew Zane would never hurt him. Heavy footsteps surrounded him as they walked, multiple weights and gaits. He’d counted five men before they tossed the bag over his head. Sounded about right.
A door creaked open and Zane led Gray into…hell, he had no idea where he was.
“Sit,” Zane said, and Gray slowly sank down into a rickety chair. Someone pulled the hood off his head and he saw they’d removed the gaiters that covered the lower half of their faces.
If they planned to kill him, he’d already be dead. And they certainly wouldn’t be showing their faces. Gray relaxed slightly. The five men—scratch that, four men and one woman—gave off competent, deadly vibes. Most likely former military by the way they all held their Glocks in steady hands.
“I’m Pharaoh,” a man with intense, silver eyes said. He stood in front of Gray, tall, cool, and with a presence that screamed he was their leader.
Gray’s gaze moved over to Zane. “What the hell is going on, Banshee?”
But his friend didn’t say a word.
“You gotta death wish?” another man asked as he pulled out a cigarette, lit it and inhaled deeply. He had black hair, blacker eyes, a jaw covered with stubble and ink for days. There was no mistaking the dangerous air that emanated from him. Hell, from all of them.
“Maybe I do,” Gray answered defiantly. Shit, at this point, he had nothing left to lose. And that made him more dangerous than anyone else in the room.
“We could help you with that.” The dark-haired man blew smoke out of his nostrils.
