Jack the Anthropophagite
(Reaper Series Book 3)
‘Jack will eat no fat but will devour lean.’
While drifting from town to town, Zeus and Brody meet Mr. McMurty, a generous widower in need of help. In exchange for a place to stay, they agree to do odd jobs around his farm.
Then one rainy night, Zeus notices a man standing outside the bathroom window. Brody searches the property but finds no trace. Zeus is certain of what he saw, and he’s certain their peaceful stint is about to come to an abrupt end.
We returned to the farmstead, showered and put on clean clothes, and packed our duffel bag. It was still raining when we left, and the daylight had sunk into a murky haze. Brody exited the house first, and I don’t know why, but again a real uneasy feeling filled me. As I reached back to pull the door shut, a loud bang echoed off the house and blood exploded from Brody’s left shoulder. The subsequent chain of frightening events happened in slow motion: the impact twisting his torso unnaturally, blood flying past his fingertips.
I couldn’t expel any noise from my throat, and I couldn’t move.
For a fraction of a second, time froze.
Then everything began to move at normal speed once more; Brody grabbed his shoulder, ducking for cover, and hollered, “Run!”
I instantly sprang to life, my heart pounding. I dropped the duffel bag and jumped over the veranda rail to land on the uneven ground below. And that’s when I saw Jack standing in the meadow in front of the McMurty house. Rifle aimed, the pasty scarecrow fired another shot. I cringed, covering my head. Brody dove for the veranda and counter-fired with one of his M9s.
I couldn’t go back inside the house. I had to get to the truck like we’d planned. The main highway ran through the town ten miles away, and it was our only means of escape. Thirty yards dead ahead, nestled on a slope, was the barn—a creosote-stained wood structure commonplace on the prairies.
Soon as I heard Brody shout “Don’t stop!” I sprinted in that direction past the shed, fruit trees, and chicken coop. The daylight was almost gone as I came to a halt at the side of the barn. The gunfire had ceased. The only noise was that of the falling rain. Panting white into the air, I peered around the edge of the building. Cold droplets fell into my eyelashes and slid down my nose. I began to shiver.
Mr. McMurty’s truck was an additional thousand yards away—a dangerous distance where I’d be left wide open to a bullet. And where is Brody? Staring at the blackening sky, I bumped the back of my head against the wall with clenched teeth. Damn it, think!
I sighed in defeat. With no other option, I had to make a run for it. All I could hope was that the encroaching night would camouflage my movements. I zipped my jacket to conceal my bright red T-shirt. But just as I went to run, someone clamped a hand over my mouth, giving me the scare of my life.
Blak Rayne is an author of gay romance. She loves to write and believes it’s one of the greatest forms of self-expression. What better way to see inside the human soul? Blak Rayne resides in Canada, and yes, she is a woman, wife, and mother. She’s been writing and drawing since elementary school, and she loves anything that involves the arts. As for family, her daughter is her toughest critic and greatest support!
‘Taking erotic to a sinful new level.’
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