Jared Rayman Novels & Stories

The pre-dawn fog hangs thick over the industrial district, blurring the amber streetlamps into dim, ghostly circles. Raymond is already there, loading a set of transit tripods into the back of his utility van. He is a small, balding man in an oversized high-visibility vest, his movements hurried and nervous as he fumbles with the latch on the van door. He doesn't hear us approach over the distant hum of the highway traffic. It isn't until Caleb’s massive frame steps into the light of the van’s open cargo bay, blocking his path, that Raymond snaps his head up.

Me- According to Shelby, no. “You threw me over the edge,” Ryan yells angry. “Were you going to suck my dick?” Ray asks. “No,” Ryan answers. “So, there ya go.” Ray does an impression of the dad from My Big Fat Greek Wedding. “Are you high?” I ask, only half awake. “To whom are you directing your question?” Jeremy asks. “Raymond Antonio Reviera,” I say, opening my eyes. Ray smirks at the use of his entire name. “No estoy drogado,” Ray answers.

On the plane with Nic were Antonio, Raymond and his friend, Damon. Damon was a huge guy, ex-Navy SEAL who cashed in big checks with bounty hunting. Nic had employed him several times over the years. He was a trustworthy guy who could kill a man with his bare hands, and proudly bragged about that fact.

The timestamp in the corner confirmed the date had haunted their families, January 15th, 2009. On the screen, the truck sat idling in the shadows of an alleyway. A man stumbled out of the driver’s side. It was Nathan. Even though the low resolution, his agony was visible. He was hunched over, his hands over his face, his body shaking with the weight of the accident he had just been forced to commit. A second figure stepped into the frame from the darkness. It was Raymond, looking calm and clinical. Raymond didn’t offer a hand or a word of comfort. He reached into his coat and pulled out a heavy handgun.

If it was the cartel, I figured my odds of escaping into the Idaho darkness were better than my chances of staying here. I continued, hoping that whoever was there wouldn't notice me. My hand tightly gripped the handle of the door, but I couldn't bring myself to open it and run out. The atmosphere was currently silent, which made me figure that whoever was here had got what they came for. However, I decided it was best to text Kara since her dad was a sheriff. I pulled out my phone from my pajama pocket and promptly messaged Kara, knowing my dad wouldn't be helpful. It was probable that my father was intoxicated at a strip club somewhere.

Wise would remove the cast from her arm and leg in two days. Dr. Jared Wise has been coming in twice a day for the last three weeks; to work on Lyra's good arm and leg so they wouldn't get atrophied. Jared would be her physical therapist once Lyra woke up. Boy, does the poor guy have his work cut out for him? Lyra will probably drive the man mad, and he will go on a boxing rampage every night after work. Lyra won't let him help her with anything, so I hope Jared can be stern and not let her go overboard. Lyra, however, is going to go crazy over this man; Jace and I have had the opportunity to speak with Jared on several occasions. He is twenty-eight years old, and he has kind dark brown eyes

He had proven to me more than once that he was the most reliable person I could ever put in charge if anything went wrong while I was away. After talking to him and making sure everything was settled, I went to my car where the driver was waiting for me. I got in the car and the driver took me to the airport. I was nervous, I knew it was never going to be easy to convince them not to execute Rayne. Why would they execute an angel? She had never done anything bad to anyone. Why did her life have to be that hard?

As soon as Amelia leaves the store, the doors lock, the security doors closing behind her, me and Jade locked inside of the store—I look around to see no workers in sight. “Okay, never shopping off of pack territory again!” Jade looked at me scared. I get a call coming through, I see its Wyatt. “Remi! Where are you!? I feel somethings not right, it’s like youre freaking out, are you okay?!” I started to talk when the vents start seeping out mist.

“You’re the one who ensured this medicine was created. Am I the only one who has nearly died from this?” Alden swallows uncomfortably. “We have had two victims to reacted badly out of the many that have taken it. Both didn’t make it.” “Well that makes me feel better,” I mutter sarcastically. Had it not been for Cian, there is no way I would have survived. Part of me thinks I should questions him more about those wonderful pills, although I’m sure he wouldn’t inform me. They are something immortal, surely. Something like that would be impossibly to obtain otherwise.