Page 61 of The Reaper

“You’re not coming with me?”

“No, I have to answer for this,” he whispered.

What would happen to him when I escaped? My feet were planted next to the dead guy with a lit cigarette still dangling from his lips, debating what to do. I hated that I cared about what they would do to Heath, but the thought of having someone torture or kill him wasn’t sitting well with me.

“Archer, go, or I’ll have to kill you,” he threatened, aiming Shorty’s gun at my face for the second time tonight.

It was a bluff and we both knew it.

He fired his gun inches to the left, hitting the wall behind me. “Go, please.”

“So, you believe me?”

“I do.”

“Then come with me.”

Heath shook his head. “I can’t, Archer.”

“Why?” He had to—they wouldn’t have mercy on him.

“To deal with the consequences and to buy you more time.” He motioned his gun around the dead bodies on the floor. “Just go!”

Two steps brought us face-to-face. I grabbed a fistful of his hair and pulled his face to mine, kissing him. “Damn you, Heath!”

I ran.

Twenty-Nine: The Priest

Three assignments and three failures. My negligence and incompetence to secure a target proved, once and for all, that I wasn’t cut out for this life. The life I never wanted for myself. I tolerated it because of my brother, my only family, and I wasn’t even sure I still had him. Andrew and I knew the consequences of betraying the Church and The Firm, we’d seen it firsthand. I thought I was an assassin, but I wasn’t. Not even close.

I’d like to believe that believing Archer and the things he’d exposed about The Firm was the only reason I let him go, but the truth lay deeper than I’d ever wanted to admit. There was something about him that fascinated me. He was a living contradiction. He was lethal, no doubt about it, but it was his principles and the way he was willing to die for what he believed in that made me admire him even more.

I stared at the five lifeless bodies swimming in pools of blood and rainwater on the concrete floor and shook my head. If it wasn’t for the dire situation in front of me, I would’ve laughed at the irony of it all. This failure was my ultimate success. A mission within a mission. If Archer could expose The Firm, then all this would have been worth it—including my own life. I told Archer once that I wasn’t afraid to die, because I wasn’t. What I was afraid of was leaving this world without making a mark, big or small. I wanted to matter.

I sat on the basement floor with my back against the cold wall, listening to the rain’s melody while I waited for the rest of The Firm’s minions. They would be here to collect The Reaper’s body. Archer should be far away by then. He was fighting against an institution, but if there was anyone who could find the chinks in The Firm’s armor, I hoped it was him.

Headlights glowed from outside, the beams sweeping across the open window accompanied by the crunching of tires over the gravel driveway. Loud footsteps shuddered the ceiling above as they marched to the basement. Legs appeared on the exposed steps. I stopped counting after four pairs. Their faces emerged, eyes wide, jaws dropped in disbelief. Some of the men were wearing black robes, while the others donned maroon cassocks.

“What happened here?” one of them asked. I recognized him immediately: it was the same man who’d escorted me when I met Archbishop Lloyd. He scanned the room before his gaze landed on me. “The Church will be disappointed in your failure,” he said quietly, his eyes taking in the dead goons before falling on me again. “You’ll have to answer for your sins.”

“I know.”

He motioned toward me and two men came forward.

I was sure I could take them, but I was tired of killing.

The man in charge pulled out a cell phone from his cassock and pressed the screen before holding the phone to his ear. “The Bishop has failed. The Reaper lives.” He listened and nodded; a minute passed. “Your orders regarding The Bishop?” Pause. “Okay.”

Two of the men pulled me to my feet, gripping both of my arms. “Did you do all this?” the man on my right asked, tying my hands with zip ties.

I didn’t respond. It wouldn’t make a difference. The conclusion of this mission had been determined.

“He’s coming with us,” the man on the phone said before hanging up. He looked around the basement one last time before shaking his head in disappointment. “This is a mess. Call for extra body bags and make sure this is all cleaned up before sunrise.”

Someone pushed me from behind, causing me to fall to one knee. “Hurry the fuck up,” he said and pulled my hair, while the other man yanked my shirt, forcing me to stand.

I followed the men outside. My heart dropped. Archer’s motorcycle remained parked where I’d left it. I scanned the perimeter. A shadow appeared behind one of the trees lining the street, almost invisible, but I knew that outline. It was Archer wearing his helmet, watching us.

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