Page 20 of Reaper
I’ve been flipping through the news channels to see if anything about Nikita is on the news, and still there hasn’t been one word. I’m not sure if that’s a good thing or if it’s a bad thing. I just need to know something one way or the other so all this will be over. I’m waiting to die again just when I thought I might have a chance to live.
The last time I checked the clock, the luminous hands glow well past two in the morning. Another restless night.
I’ve been tossing and turning since I laid down because not only are my days blurring into the next, but I’m bored out of my mind. I’m learning cabin fever is a real thing, and I’m itching to go back to a normal life, whatever normal is.
This isn’t what I imagined when I planned to escape from Nikita. I’m happy I’m free of him but I’m also stuck in another cage, and the pendulum swinging back and forth is deciding my faith. Waiting to see where it lands is tiring. And it’s starting to get to me. While I understand why I’m here, and why Logan hasn’t let me step foot outside the place, I still feel trapped.
I groan, throwing off the covers. I’m not going to get any sleep. I’m in the dark about what Logan’s doing about my situation. I’m in the dark about what’s happening with the Bratva. I’m in the dark about every damn thing. And I hate not knowing what I need to do to get through this. I’m used to handling my own shit before everything happened. Now I can’t do anything but wait. And I’m tired of playing the waiting game. It’s draining. Both physically and mentally.
When I slip out of bed, I’m in a pair of panties and a tank top, Logan bought me the second day here. He bought me a shit ton of clothes which also let me know I will be staying here longer than I want to.
For a moment I thought about asking Logan to find my brother, but I think if I did, he’d hurt him. And even though he deserves whatever happens to him, I don’t want to be the cause of it. He’s still my brother. I don’t think I could live with that. I just want to know why he did this to me when I’ve been nothing but supportive through all his up and downs when I shouldn’t give a rat’s ass what happens to him. To turn his back on me the way he’s done, I need answers. Answers that I probably won’t ever get.
I don’t bother putting on any other clothes. I haven’t heard him return, so I’m here alone. The silence has taken some getting used to. At Nikita’s home there’s always noise. If it isn’t coming from the outlandish parties he throws, it comes from the staff bustling around doing whatever he orders them to do. Or the constant noise of his men. However, I’m finding out silencecan be good and bad. And today the silence is terrible. It’s making me restless.
Ignoring the icy chill of the hardwood floors against my bare feet, I walk toward the kitchen, each step echoing in the quiet house. Logan has a nice sized condo in the better part of the city. I could never afford something nice like this. My little one bedroom apartment I had before all this shit went down can fit inside this place two times over.
I wonder why a single man wants a place this big?
As I pass the dining room, the lights of the Oakland cityscape shine through the massive windows, illuminating the dark gray walls with a warm, inviting glow.
This place is amazing. The clean lines and gray and cream color scheme gives off a bachelor vibe, while also exuding luxury.
It’s not your typical bachelor pad. Instead of beer cans and takeout containers laying everywhere, it has framed black and white fine art prints, potted plants, and plush cream leather furniture. I haven’t asked, but this place had to cost in the millions. I don’t know what he does for a living, but he makes a fortune to be able to afford something like this.
Maybe he’s in finance?
I chuckle at that thought. There’s no way in hell a man like Logan works a corporate job.
I sigh. “Maybe a glass of wine will help me go to sleep instead of water.”
I’m not much of an alcohol drinker anymore, but I do love a glass of wine especially when I’m so wound up, I can’t sleep.
I pull a bottle of Reisling from the wine cabinet in the kitchen and sit it on the counter, humming a song from the movie I watched earlier today. Next, I move to the cabinets and rummage through them looking for a wine glass.
“Top shelf. The cabinet to your left.”
I whip around, a strangled scream rips from my throat, and my hand flies to my chest.
“Jesus, fucking Christ, Logan.” I blow out a breath of relief. “You scared the shit out of me. I’m glad I didn’t have one of your glasses in my hand.”
He’s propped against the archway that separates the dining room from the large kitchen with his massive arms across his chest looking like a god and every girl’s wet dream.
He runs his large palm through his sweat drenched, unruly, dirty blonde hair with a smirk playing on his lips.
He’s shirtless. His tan, tattooed skin, glistens with sweat, dripping onto his chiseled abs, which look as though they are carved from granite. His white gym shorts hang low on his narrow hips, drawing attention to a noticeable bulge he makes no effort to conceal from me. He has a boxer’s build. Wide shoulders, slim waist, defined arms and legs, and never-ending muscles. The man is beyond gorgeous. He’s definitely one of God’s favorites, and there’s no doubt in my mind he knows it.
His mouth ticks up just a hair at the corners. This is the second time he’s let me see him smile and I get the feeling it isn’t one of the things he does a lot, but he should. It transforms his entire appearance. He doesn’t look so villainous and more like the boy next door.
His eyes shamelessly move down my body then settle back on my face. My nipples harden at his blatant attention. And this is the first time in a long time I’ve had any reaction to a man that isn’t disgust, especially when they’re so unapologetic of their scrutiny of my body.
“Do you always walk around half dressed?” his deep, sensual voice hums, sending shivers down my spine.
It takes every ounce of self-control not to physically react.
Its deep rumble, reminiscent of warm honey, sends a ripple of awareness through me igniting something deep inside me Ihaven’t felt in a long time. When his eyes move down my body again, and linger on my chest, he bites his lip. A blush warms my skin, and my breath hitches in my throat.
I want to nibble on his lip and soothe the sting on his skin with my tongue.
