Page 9 of They Call Him Reaper

I sit with my feet dangling and he bends by my legs. His skin on his forearm brushes my shin, leaving those same tingles behind. I ignore them and watch as he pours water on my feet and inspect them to ensure they’re free of debris. His touch is almost gentle, but I know he’s being thorough. He dries them with the same care.

“Turn into the car and put on the sandals waiting inside.”

The car dips under his weight, and I wait while he does the same thing to himself. He dries his feet and slips on boat shoes to complete his khaki pants and floral shirt vacation look. It’s far too fun for his stoic personality, but I think that’s the point. Even now, his permanent scowl and the downward tilt of his eyebrows belies the carefree attire.

He turns his legs under the wheel as I slide on my seatbelt without being told. The Reaper drives off almost immediately, and I wonder if he would have left me had I taken too long. If so, I try to figure out how far I would have been from civilization, but twenty minutes into the drive with no sign of life gives me my answer. I need him to survive, but I doubt I can survive with him.

When my stomach growls, he pulls over, though it doesn’t look like that sound motivated him since there’s nothing but a lake. It’s a beautiful shade of green and it’s surrounded by a park. Not many people are out, probably because it’s hot as hell. The heat would be a bitch in this open space.

“When we get out of the car, you better act like you fucking love me. If you try to get help from anyone, I’ll kill them and you,entendes?”

For brief moments, I forget who he is and what's going on but when he looks me in the eyes and promises to kill me without any trace of hesitation present, my stomach drops with the reminder. I’ve seen him in action and what he’s done to others as The Reaper, but I haven’t had time to cry and now isn’t that time either.

I nod, and he reaches into his bag and pulls out a small, black velvet bag, releasing the drawstring. The sun bounces off the metals and diamonds inside. They would be blinding if the windows didn’t have tint. The Reaper grabs my left hand and slides two rings on my finger. Then he adds one to his.

“If anyone asks, you’re my wife, Jada Rodriguez, and I’m Hugo.”

“Is either one your real name?”

“What kind of dumb-ass question is that? Why the fuck would I give you my name?”

He leaves the car, comes to my side, and opens it for me. Now, his face has transformed into one of a normal person. He’s smiling at me like I’m the love of his life, but the threat still lingers in his gaze.

I practice my fake smile when he escorts me out of the car and to an empty bench. “We have to take self-photos with the stupid name.”

“Selfies? Usies?”

He sighs, like me saying them made my intelligence drop. A phone I haven’t seen materializes and he pulls up the camera. His smile is so rare that I’m mesmerized. I’m not aware I’m staring until he takes the picture.

“The camera is in my hand and not on my face. Keep up.”

Standing, he grabs my arm, then steps behind me. His arm slips around me like we’re lovers and pulls me back to his chest. With his beard tickling my ear, he aligns our faces. I force a smile for the picture. Then he takes another with him kissing my temple.

My breathing is easier when he releases me. My relief is short-lived when he laces our fingers for the second time today.

“This is taking too long,” he mumbles as he guides us to a photobooth and slides a five-dollar bill inside.

The Reaper lowers himself into the booth and pulls me into his lap. It’s a thrill I cannot afford to feel. His hand slides along my exposed thigh and I bite my lip to force myself not to squirm or feel pleasure. The click pulls my attention back to the camera, but Dante’s sensual assault has me looking wild and aroused. His fingers move to my jaw, and he pulls my face close to his like he wants to kiss me on my jaw. His lashes tickle my cheek when he closes his eyes. The camera catches us like that.

“Look at me,” he whispers.

Obeying, I turn my head the rest of the way and look into his artificially green eyes as instructed. We study each other as the camera clicks again. His grip tightens, making my lips part in surprise and he takes advantage. His lips slide over mine and my heart accelerates. His unexpected kiss sends a jolt of awareness that I don’t need.

The last click signals the end of our session, and I find myself falling again when he suddenly stands. He steps over me and exits the booth. Pulling myself together, I get up and follow him outside. His head is bent, studying the pictures like he’s looking for the slightest hint of me fucking up. He’s back to business when he meets my eyes again.

“These will do. Let’s go.”

Once again, I find myself scurrying after the psycho.

SIX

Dante

One mission.Same Woman. On to the final destination. She gets back in the car with her lips stuck out like I owe her something. She lives another day—that’s my gift for her. The dummy takes a few tries to fasten her seatbelt, then folds her arm like she wants to argue with me. She can try, but it won’t end well for her. Right now, each breath is a luxury, so she needs to breathe deeply. She only has to live long enough for me to leak proof of life, but the tracker I implanted in her when I broke into her home can live on without her.

Reaching into the back, I grab an insulated bag and drop it in her lap. “Eat.”

She hums to herself like we’re cool and opens the bag, where she finds a turkey avocado sandwich with lettuce, tomatoes, and mayo - the way she likes it, according to my research. She bites into it and sighs without questioning or bothering to check the contents. I shrug to myself and begin to drive. Her stupidity makes some parts of my job easier, like now, when her chewing slows and her eyes droop. Now, things are moving in slow motion for her as the sedatives kick in and take command of her body. To an untrained eye, she’ll appear to be drunk,but the sedatives will keep her from saying something stupid or remembering this trip.

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