Page 19 of They Call Him Reaper

“I see you’ve been snooping again,” I point out.

“Only for your benefit. Originally, I thought this was one of the reasons you kept me. Since I’m a nurse practitioner and all.” She looks at the pill bottle and gives me a side-eye. “I see you’ve taken advantage of my prescription pad. Looks like I’m not the only snoop. How long have you been watching me, exactly?”

Pretenses are pointless at this juncture of the mission. “I watched you move in.”

Blowing out air, she shakes her head. “I feel like that was supposed to be more alarming.”

My head still hurts, so I do my best to get more comfortable and close my eyes. “And instead?”

She walks into the kitchen, so her voice sounds a little further away. “After this ‘adventure’ you’ve forced me on, being watched from afar is child’s play. Honestly, I’m just asking myself why the sexy ones are so twisted. I haven’t been attracted to anyone in a long time. It was bad when I realized that I was attracted to a bartender on the worst day of my life, but that bartender turned out to be my worst nightmare. How’s that for luck? Like not only do you take me to kill me, but you also choose to walk around naked or damn near naked, then become offended when I try to get some.Twisted.”

She has a habit of making a serious situation sound somewhat funny. I don’t crack a smile as I rest my eyes, but I will admit it’s weird hearing her talk like this. I never noticed how melodic yet raspy her voice is when she’s yapping. It’s sexy. The tarp rustles when she kneels on it.

“Here.” She gives me a banana, pills, and a bottle of water. “I was able to get your bag after I brought you inside.”

It’s a good thing I was wearing it, or I’d have to go back. My body is too sore for such a trip. I sit up to eat the banana and take the pills. Normally, I don’t like medication, but everything hurts, and I just want to sleep.

“Come on, let’s wash this sand off before you pass out.”

She’s so gentle, I almost hate it. The differences in them are so massive that I'd question her paternity if there weren't some of his features in hers. Her niceness unlocks the remnant memories of the last people who were ever genuinely concerned about my well-being. Father never was. Part of me knew that, but Andrea's findings wouldn't allow me to live in denial any longer.

I’ve been leaking all the information Father stored in my head to the cops and beyond, slowly making him hemorrhage money. I know his failure to reach me is maddening. Good.

But as the shower warms my body, I lose my focus on my goal again. Between taking my body to exhaustion, the pain, and the meds, I’m able to turn off the angry part long enough to accept the assistance while showering and getting back to the bed.

I’m already dozing off in bed when she returns from her shower. “Do you need aftercare instructions, or are you good from here?” she teases like I’m a real patient.

I’m smirking again when I tell her the same thing I would have said yesterday. “Shut up and go to sleep.”

TWELVE

Inaya

I knowI wasn’t exaggerating when I thought that the ocean had the power to change people. I don’t think this was his first near-death experience, but I almost did not recognize the person he was when he opened his eyes.

He was calmer. Still gruff but not super rude and abrupt. He thanked me without realizing it. Smiled and laughed at the appropriate times. I’ve learned that being delusional doesn’t do me any favors, but there seems to be a shift.

It could be the time we’ve spent here since he already seemed a little less unyielding before he left. Almost playful. I doubt assassins get vacations, but I may have witnessed the closest thing to Vacation Dante. When the rain rolled in dark and angry with no signs of him, I started to worry. Like I told him, his death wouldn’t have helped me out here. If we were in a city, or at least on dry land, I’d have a much better chance. I need him to get off this island.

The light from the jet ski was faint as he’d gotten closer, but I could tell he wasn’t his usual self. I’d chalked it up to the rain pelting him and gluing his hair to his face, but I knew something was wrong when he fell.

I ran out without caring about the dangers outside because Dante not surviving was the biggest danger to me. I hated how he’s given himself a dual purpose in my life, but I’ll choose survival until I can’t. I couldn’t let the ocean take him. I arrived in time for the water to push him farther on shore and was able to hold on to keep him from floating away. The cold water from the sky wasn’t enough to awaken him, and I knew that was bad.

Even with all the water, his blood was visible. I knew then I needed to give him medical aid.

The storm roared around me with lightning whitening the sky periodically while I located the tarp and fought with all my strength to roll him onto it. Luckily, wet sand is a little more reliable than dry sand.

My legs burned once I dragged him inside, but it didn’t matter. I had to stop the bleeding. His groan told me he was still alive. The ocean had rid him of the wig, so his brown hair clung to him. Dante has been such a powerful force in my life that I’d forgotten he was human. Nature reminded both of us.

I handcuffed him to the bottom of the bed. His cooperation was imperative, as his cut was pretty bad. I looked through everything until I found the necessary medical supplies, then started to strip him. The pants were the hardest to get off, and he was missing a boot. I stopped the bleeding, then cleaned the wound while praying that it wouldn't get infected. I didn’t have any antibiotics. My hands were shaking from the adrenaline, but they needed to be steady to patch him up. I closed my eyes and took a few deep breaths, then started humming.

The music in my head eased my nerves. I was satisfied with the stitching, but even happier when he awakened. I didn’t want to have to find another way to move his big ass again. He stayed calm and almost amicable until he dozed off for the night. He was hurting, I could see that, but he did his damndest not to show it.

Once he finally fell into a restful sleep, it was like his whole body sighed. I, however, am still wired. Tending to him knocked away some of the fog I had been living under since being abducted. Bandaging him up was the closest I’d get to my old life. The rain still rages on, but I watch over him as I read on the tablet he gave me. There is no better escape than a good book.

Dante whines and grumbles to himself a few times, but I’m not alarmed since I’ve gotten used to it. He gets my attention when he starts crying and begging. I can’t quite make out what he says, but I know this isn’t the usual nightmare he’s had damn near every night. This is worse. His forehead is sweating, but he doesn’t have a fever. I moved when he started thrashing, giving him space to get through his episode, but my heart hurt with the way his voice sounds so small and helpless when he says, “Mommy? Daddy?”

Despite what the adult version has done to me, I hurt for what the child inside of him must have endured. My dad may have been distant, but he gave me the best of everything, and even though my mom died when I was younger, I still remember the love she gave me. My nanny, Antionette, moved near my boarding school and practically raised me since my dad was busy. Her love and kindness were what motivated me to help others. Sneaking up on Father was my attempt to make us closer but it did the opposite. I ran that night and never looked back.

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