Page 49 of They Call Him Reaper

“It gives me more time to make love to my wife.”

She wraps her arms around me. “The last word only, please.”

“Wife. Wife. Wife…”

I repeat the title for her until I’m inside of her.

Inaya

I stareat Dante while he sleeps. The ring on his finger still shocks me a day later. Then I stare at mine in wonder, like his baby isn’t having the time of its life in my body right now. We still have work to do when it comes to us and his emotions, but damn, we’ve come a long way. The coldness that used to be in his eyes isn’t there went he looks at me and I don’t think he gets how that fucks me up.

The news makes it seem like he’s a possible wild card in the wind and they’re having a big man hunt, although his moves are calculated, and he hasn’t moved in the three days since he heard he was wanted for questioning. I’m not oblivious; I know that Wyn must still be here for a reason.

Dante stretches and opens his eyes to look at me. A slow smile pulls at his full lips. I’m starting to live for those smiles that are truly just for me.

“You’re doing it again,” he jokes as he pulls me into a cuddle.

“First, I got caught in my thoughts,” I explain. “Second, I don’t think you understand how damn attractive you are.”

His chuckle rumbles against my back, but I get distracted by the kiss he drops on my shoulder. We’ve been in this sex bubble like we’re trying to recoup the time we lost, but I know we feel the same thing right now.

Dante climbs off the bed and pulls me into the shower. The water pelts my skin as he puts soap on my sponge. Standing in one spot, I follow his orders, moving only when he needs me to as he washes my body. This isn’t an act of seduction; it’s one of his gestures to show he cares. He wraps a towel around me once he’s done.

“Go get dressed,Gatita.I’ll be out in a few minutes.” I’m stuck in the same spot, though, watching his graceful movements as he washes his hair. Different muscle groups clench and release based on how he moves. It’s amazing, even after seeing it all before. “Clothes, wife,” he orders with his eyes closed.

His awareness is damn sexy, but I move on to the next activity. I put my hair in a high ponytail and focus on moisturizing and then slipping into my clothes. I don’t know if I have a sixth sense about these things, or if my hormones are acting up, or I’m just getting accustomed to this life, but my eyes tear up and Dante reappears to find me crying. He moves faster than me, so I’m not surprised to find him dressed in a tropical print shirt and khakis. The view brings out more tears. I know he wouldn’t dress like that unless he had a purpose.

“It’s okay. I promised that I was coming back to you, and I will.” Dante tilts my chin up and forces me to look at him. “You believe me, right?”

“Yes,” I admit. “It’s just scary not knowing the game plan.”

“I know,” he agrees as he wipes my eyes. “But this is the only way for me to find out what the police think they have on me. It’ll give me a better idea of what’s at play.”

I grab his cheeks and pepper his face with kisses, then pull him into a hug like I’m trying to remember everything about him.

“I know, but I don’t like it.”

We separate once someone knocks on the door. “Come in,” Dante yells, so the person on the other side can hear him.

Wyn opens the door and rests on the jamb. “I’m sorry, you two, but it’s time.”

Dante nods and squeezes my hand. “I’m off to turn myself in.”

THIRTY-TWO

Dante

I try notto smirk at the stares I’m getting from the detectives. They claim that this is an information session, yet they have me in the interrogation room and are using tactics that clearly illustrate their suspicion of my guilt. I’m not offended. I am guilty, after all; they just can’t prove it. Besides, once Father resurfaces, I will kill him. I just need to be free to do it. The only fear this interaction brings is the small sliver of doubt that I’ll be there for my wife and child. I continue to pretend not to fully understand English while Wyn continues to argue with them like a good lawyer.

They read off things they learned about me, not realizing all they know is what I allow them to know. I know more about them than they do me, but it’s neither here nor there.

The black woman, Sheila, looks mean as hell, but her outfit is stylish and everything about her appearance screams that she is into self-care. I’m assuming she’d have to be since she’s almost thirty years into the job.

She is fifty-three, married with three kids, and waiting patiently to make it to her pension. She didn’t want to be a captain because she doesn’t want to play politics. Alex, herpartner, is a fresh detective that feels he was saddled with a partner who only wants to do just enough to get through the day.

He’s thirty-three, divorced, has one child, but is somehow getting murdered by alimony and child support payments. The darkness under his eyes and the near paleness of his skin tell me that he doesn’t sleep much. His financial issues are most likely keeping him awake. The glance I had at his credit report tells me that it won’t be long before he’s on Andrea’s payroll.

I shrug and look at Wyn as if I didn’t understand the last question. It isn’t my goal to pretend not to know what they’re saying forever; I just need them to drop their guard and spill what they think they know.

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