Page 17 of Reaper

What? To get laid while laughing behind myback?To manipulate me into giving up club secrets between rounds offucking?To use my feelings against me one moretime?

"What's the play?" I force the words past numb lips, already knowing theanswer.Already hatingit.

"Get the truth." Ranch's expressionhardens."Whatever it takes. And if what I've heard is right..." He lets the sentence hang, but I hear the unspokenorder.

Handle it.

"Timer?" I have to ask, have to know how deep this betrayalgoes.

"Clean as far as we know. Probably her next target." Ranch studies me through thescreen."You good to handlethis?"

Am I good to handle the fact that the woman I love--the woman I just spent the night making love to--has been playing me for afool?That every kiss, every touch, every whispered promise was just part of hercover?

"Yeah." My voice comes out rough, dangerous. "I'm good."

"Reaper." Ranch's tone carries years of friendship and sharedpain."I'm sorry, brother. I know what she means toyou."

Meant. Past tense. Because the Sandy I loved neverexisted.She was just a cover, a carefully crafted lie designed to get close to theclub.

To get close tome.

"I'll call you when it's done." I end the video, staring blindly at the parking lot as the sun climbshigher.

Five years ago, Sandy broke my heart when she threw my ring in my face and walkedaway.But this? This is different. This is betrayal on a level I can barelycomprehend.

Because last night, when she was crying out my name, when she was promising forever with her body if not her words, sheknew.She fucking knew she was going to destroy everything Ilove.

And I let her in.Again.

My phone buzzes with a text. Sandy's codename lights up the screen, making my stomachturn.

R

Missing you already. Come back tobed?

Five little wordsthat would have made my heart race an hourago.Now they're just more evidence of herlies.

I type back a response, forcing my hands not toshake.

Me:

On my way.

Time to findout just how deep this betrayalgoes.Time to make her prove her loyalty or admit herlies.

Time to break my own heart by breakinghers.

Because if Sandy really is playing me, if she really has been working against the club this wholetime...

Then God help us both. Because I won't survive losing hertwice.

And this time, she won't survive betrayingme.

The hotel roomkey feels heavy in my palm as I stand outside ourdoor.My heart pounds against my ribs, rage and hurt warring forcontrol.I'd planned to play it cool, to draw out her lies with carefulquestions.

But the moment I step inside and see her--wrapped in my old Saints shirt, hair tumbling wild around her shoulders, smile bright enough to blind--something in mesnaps.

"Look me in the eyes." My voice comes out deadly calm despite the trembling in myhands."Look me in the eyes, Sandy, and tell me you're not playing meagain."

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