Page 9 of Reaper

“I’ll tell you everything later,” Reaper says before turning to Scar. “Can you get Doc down here?”

“On it,” Scar says.

“I don’t need a doctor,” I protest.

“You were in a car accident. You’re going to see him, and that’s that,” Reaper says.

“You can’t tell me what to do anymore. I’m not yours.”

“We’ll see about that,” he mutters so softly I almost don’t hear him.

We glare at each other, both unwilling to compromise. The heat between us builds until the tension becomes impossible to ignore. My entire body melts as thoughts of what he used to do to me in his bed flood back. My gaze trails down his body. At six-foot-three, he’s always been tall, towering eight inches over me, but now he’s just … huge. Like a power lifter, all muscle and strength. I bet he could still hold me up in the air while fucking my brains out. It’s an image I’m struggling to shake because it’s happened before, and it can happen again. He’s sexier than ever but also more dangerous. If I’m not careful, he’ll ensnare me in his trap, and this time I won’t be alone. My son will be caught up in this mess too.

Chapter 3: Reaper

The way Lexi’s standing there, like she’s carved out of defiance and something softer I can’t quite name, scrambles my thoughts. My gut twists with frustration and raw desire.

“Ace can bunk in the room next door,” I say, trying to keep my voice level, but there’s an edge to it I can’t sand down. “He’ll be just fine there.”

Lexi squares her shoulders, pushes a stray lock of hair behind her ear, and plants her feet like she’s ready to take on the whole damn world if she has to. “No, Reaper. I’m staying with my son.” Her voice is calm, but it’s also filled with razor-sharp certainty.

“Damn it, Lexi, it’s not like you haven’t stayed in my room before.” The reminder slips out, more accusation than memory. I hate the hint of desperation creeping into my voice. Since when have I ever been desperate for anything or anyone? I’m only obsessed with one thing—vengeance—and Lexi has nothing to do with that.

I grind my teeth together, trying to rein in the need coiling tight inside me. This isn’t just about wanting her into my bed again; it’s about the way she’s looking at me, like she can see past the leather and ink into the parts of me I don’t show anybody. There’s more than just desire in her eyes, there’s a sense of knowing, like she’s aware of all my darkest secrets. I haven’t told her anything about my past, or about what happened with Blackstone, but somehow, I sense she knows more than she’s letting on.

“Things are different now,” she fires back, her voice steady even though I see her pulse jumping in her neck. “I have Ace to think about.”

“Fine,” I growl, feeling the battle lines being drawn. But this isn’t a fight I’m going to lose, because when it comes to Lexi, losing isn’t an option. Not this time.

While we’re locked in this stand-off, Scar stands at the end of the hall watching us. He pulls his phone out of his cut and holds it to his ear. His tone is businesslike as he speaks to whoever’s on the other end of the line.

“No. He’s already got a teddy bear, so he doesn’t need a stuffed animal buddy. But he’ll need some shirts, pants, and shoes. He’s young. About six or seven.” Scar glances at Lexi, his gaze flickering between us. “Lexi, you need another set of clothes too?”

“It couldn’t hurt, at least until we get my stuff out of the car,” she says. “Is that Nina?”

“Yeah.” Scar nods.

“I still have some of your stuff,” I say gruffly.

Lexi turns to me, confusion etched in the lines of her face, her eyes wide and incredulous. “You have my things? From seven years ago?”

“Yep.” I shrug as if it’s no big deal. “Just never got around to tossing ‘em out.”

Her mouth parts slightly, but before she can question me further, the sound of boots thudding against the floor announces Doc’s arrival. He’s our lifeline when the outside world won’t touch us. A medic who knows too much about bullet wounds and road rash. He does under-the-table work for the club because we helped rescue his daughter and grandchild from his daughter’s crazy husband.

Doc’s in his mid-fifties, but he looks twenty years younger. He’s six feet tall with long runner’s legs. He’s a triathlete who’s in really good shape because he’s seen what a bad lifestyle can do to a body. That said, he eats most of his meals at the club’s bar and grill.

“Lookin’ good, Reaper. Did you finally lay off the french fries and onion rings?” Doc teases me.

“Fuck no. I just dip ‘em in less ranch.”

“I guess that’s something.” Doc chuckles.

“Lexi and Ace, go in there and wait for us.” I nod toward the empty bedroom next to my room. I’ll table the argument about sleeping arrangements for now. Later, I’ll make sure she’s in my bed where she belongs.

“I’m fine,” Lexi protests, but the strain in her voice betrays the pain she’s trying to hide. Her stubbornness is like a match struck against my patience—fiery and bright, threatening to burn us both.

“Doesn’t matter. You’re getting looked at.” The words leave no room for argument. I can bring someone back from the brink of death, but mending whatever’s broken between us? That’s beyond me. I don’t even know why she left in the first place. It’s a mystery I’m dying to solve.

---