Page 35 of Reaper
Saint steps in as I walk back towards the door. “Anything?” he asks.
I shake my head. “No.”
“Well, there’s no blood, so that’s a good sign,” he says. “At least we know she was alive when they left.”
“For now,” I mumble, then I stiffen when I hear a faint sound like a whimper. “Did you hear that?”
“I didn’t hear shit,” Saint says, looking around like we might have missed something. “What did it sound like?”
“A cry. Paris! Sweetheart! It’s Logan!”
Minutes of silence tick by and I think maybe I just want to hear her voice or what I heard had been wishful thinking on my part. She’s not here, and now, I’m going to kill every member of the Petrov Bratva for taking her away from me.
“We need to get the…”
“Logan?”
Her voice is barely above a whisper, but I hear it, and the sound is like music to my ears despite the tremor of fear lacing it. Knowing she’s scared hits my gut so hard a blinding rage floods my senses, distorting everything.
I race toward the back of my closet. There’s a row of cabinets across the bottom of the back wall. So, I reach down, and open one of the doors.
“Paris.”
A wave of relief washes over me when I see her hiding in the shadows toward the back. I don’t even know how in the hell she crammed herself in such a tight space, but I’m grateful she did.
Her knees are pulled up to her chest and when she looks at me, tears are streaming down her face while she has a death grip on my knife I keep in the top drawer of my dresser under my t-shirts.
“Here take this.”
Saint grabs my gun, then I reach out my hand to her. “I’m here, baby. You can drop the knife and come out. It’s safe.”
As she begins to crawl out, her eyes widen as she starts to shake her head, while trying to make herself as small as possible back inside the cabinet. I look over my shoulder, then back at her when I realize the issue. “That’s my brother, Saint. He won’t hurt you either, Paris. I’d rather kill myself, then let anyone hurt you, baby. Come out for me, please.”
After a few minutes, she drops the knife and crawls out. A shuddering sob wracks her body as she collapses into my arms. The raw, choked sound resonates deep within my soul. It’s been a long time since I’ve experienced such heart wrenching fear and rage. Fear that Petrov had taken her. And a burning rage because they invaded my home, attempting to steal her away from me.
Trembling, she clings to my body, her small hands digging into my shirt like she’s scared I’ll vanish into thin air. But I’ll neverlet her go. “I’m here, sweetheart,” I whisper, then kiss the top of her head.
Her big brown eyes filled with tears, gaze up at me like I’m her last lifeline. “Please don’t let them get me. Please, Logan. I can’t go back there.”
“If it’s the last thing I do, I’ll keep you safe. I promise on my life, on everything I love, nobody will ever hurt you again.”
As she buries her face, stained with tears into my chest, I look up at my brother who’s giving me a look that says I’ll be in for a shit ton of questions I’m not ready to answer. But, right now that doesn’t even matter. She’s with me and she’s safe. I’ll deal with all the other shit later.
Paris
Currently,we’reinLogan’sroom at the Sinners clubhouse he uses on nights he’s unable to make it home. Hours after the attack at his place and while in Logan’s arms, my body still trembles. My mind still races, replaying everything that happened, and what could have happened if the Petrovs found me hiding in his closet. Even though I’m safe now, the events of today play over and over in my head, not allowing me any peace.
Logan’s arms are wrapped so tightly around me, like he’s scared if he releases me, I might shatter into a million broken pieces. He’s refused to leave my side even though sooner or later he’ll have no other choice. Although, I’ve managed to keep my shit together because I’ve already cried enough to last a lifetime, I much rather stay in the safety of his embrace if that’s where he wants me to be. It’s certainly where I want to be.
He’s been quiet since he coaxed me out of my hiding place. I’m sure he’s blaming himself for what’s happened. He just seems like that kind of man, but there’s no one to blame for my circumstances but me. I’ve brought down the Petrovs onto myown head by fighting for my freedom. Logan’s done nothing but try to help, just like he’s doing now.
When we first arrived, Logan warned me about some things I might see and if it makes me uncomfortable in any way to let him know so he can handle it. While I’m glad he’s looking out for me, he must have forgotten what my life was like with Nikita. I’m used to half-naked women, and men fucking like rabbits anywhere and everywhere. So far what I see when we walk in is tame to what happens at Nikita’s. At least the women are here because they want to be here, not because they’ve been forced to pay a debt or have so many drugs in their systems, they’ll be compliant with their circumstances.
“I’m sorry about King interrogating you like he did.” He kisses me on the top of the head, again. “He had no right.”
I met King earlier, and while he tried to be cordial, he’s not happy I’m here. When we showed up, Logan went straight to his office, and King did not hide his disdain for this situation or hold his tongue. He blames me, which pissed Logan off. I thought they were going to get into an actual fight, but some of the other men separated them before they could come to blows.
I don’t want him fighting his brother because of me. I’ve brought a lot of problems to the Sinners’ doorstep and their Prez, as Logan refers to him, is not happy with the attention I’ve brought to his club. Even though I can’t blame him, what’s done is done. I did what I needed to do to get away, and Logan did what he felt he needed to do by helping me. I didn’t force him into this situation.
