Page 54 of The Reaper

“I believe he was killed because a trial would expose The Firm’s ties to Congress.”

“Do you have proof of that?”

“Yeah. See, that’s where it gets complicated. The Firm tracked the person responsible for outing the dead congressman and that man was my assignment. He was part of The Firm. He was one of us.”

“Why would The Firm do that to their own?”

“Because he knew too much and he betrayed The Firm.”

“Did you believe him?”

He nodded. “He was my friend, and he showed me a transcript of the communication between the congressman and The Firm. The Firm sent me to kill him because he knew too much.”

“Did you kill him?”

Archer’s eyes darkened. “We need to go,” he said. He stood and headed back to the small cottage. He yanked open the door, marching inside.

“Archer, wait!” I called, following him. “I thought we were staying the night?”

“It’s best if we don’t.” He picked up his shirt from the floor, then hastily yanked it over his head. Next he tucked his gun into his waistband. “Get ready,” he ordered. “I’ll wait outside.”

“One last question,” I said.

Archer stopped by the door, glancing in my direction.

“How certain are you about The Firm?”

“Certain enough to stake my life on it. They sent people to silence me the only way they know how. I will expose them if it’s the last thing I do.”

He made his way outside, leaving me with my own thoughts running hundreds of miles per hour.

Twenty-Six: The Reaper

“Fuck! Fuck! Fuck!” I punched the seat of my bike. God, I was so stupid. I couldn’t believe I spilled my guts to Heath like that. What I did was careless and dangerous. At least I had the smarts to get the hell out of there before I said any more. What was it about him that gave me a sense of security? Heath was the last person I could go to in case my life was in danger. He was a priest, for fuck’s sake. What would he do, pray away the assassins who were after me? I needed to do damage control, and there’s only one way this could end.

I have to kill him.

The ride back to Boston was quiet, tension disguised as silence. The air was filled with unspoken questions, but neither one of us uttered a word. The city approached and dread took residence in my gut, knowing that, after tonight, whatever pull Heath had on me would have to end—one way or the other. His home came into view and I stopped at the curb out front.

He didn’t move.

I opened my mouth to speak, but stopped before the first word came out.

Heath tapped my stomach. “Thank you,” he whispered in my ear. The warmth of his breath tickled my skin. He hopped off the bike, released his secured bag, and then walked away without looking back.

My eyes bounced between my new apartment and the priest. Fuck it. Not wanting this evening to end, I followed. He was in deep thought when I sneaked in behind him. I opted to walk behind the tall shrubs to hide from the security camera I knew was pointed in my direction. My legs bumped the empty trash bin, causing it to fall on its side. “Damn it!”

Heath jogged over to check out the disturbance.

“The extremes you orchestrate to get my attention are alarming,” he said when he realized it was me.

I closed the short distance between us. My eyes fixated on his lips and then traveled to the veins running parallel down his neck. I wanted a last taste of this forbidden fruit.

“You could’ve just said ‘I’m back,’” he added, stifling a laugh.

“Yeah,” I said. “But where’s the fun in that?”

“Wanna come in?” he asked. “Or do you prefer breaking in? I can pretend.”

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