Page 36 of Reaper
“You don’t have to apologize. I’m just glad you’re here with me.”
“There’s no place I’d rather be.” He sighs. “So, do you want to talk about what happened?”
I really don’t want to, but the weight of it all might lift if I just got it off my chest.
“They almost caught me, Logan. I barely had time to hide. Just a few more seconds and they would have taken me. I would be dead. I don’t want to die. I thought I did, but I really don’t.”
I’d just made it into Logan’s closet when I heard those thick Russian accents. I’d been in his room looking for one of his t-shirts to wear. His scent calms me, and I’d been antsy most of the day. So, as I searched for one, their voices reached my ears. I only had seconds to react and not alert them to my presence. I hid inside the closet after grabbing the knife he kept in the top drawer of my dresser. I just knew they would find me, but when they entered the dark closet, they didn’t waste time looking through the cabinets.
Thank God.
He sighs, tightening his embrace. “But they didn’t. You did good, baby. Trust me, they’ll all pay for this.”
“What are you going to do?” I snuggle deeper into his embrace. I can get used to being in his arms.
“It’s club business. It’s best if you don’t know.”
He leans down and gently kisses my forehead, his lips soft and warm against my skin. However, before I can respond because I have no idea what club business means, a sharp rap echoes on the door, interrupting the conversation.
He groans, and for the first time since all this happened, he lets me go, and I immediately feel the loss of his presence. I’m quickly becoming attached to Logan and I’m not sure if that’s good or bad. When all this is over, I have no intention of remaining in Oakland. I don’t believe it will ever be safe for me here, even if Nikita is no longer around. So, what will that mean for us?
Cursing, he pushes himself off the bed, then walks to the door. I close my eyes and try to relax as much as I can, attempting to push down the rising fear going through me. I’m still freaking out about what happened and how close I came to being in thehands of the Russians again. I’m not sure even Logan will be able to save me next time.
“What the hell, Reaper? Where the hell have you been?”
My eyes pop open as a beautiful woman pushes past Reaper into the room. A wave of bitter jealousy washes over me. Her flawless alabaster skin seems to glow without a single blemish. Her hair, a vibrant, fiery red, falls in thick, loose curls halfway down her back. Her body is to die for, and she looks exactly like someone Logan would be attracted to.
Who is she?
When she sees me, she stops in her tracks, glaring at me. “And who the hell are you! And what are you doing in here?”
Reaper walks toward me, then blocks me from her view. “It’s none of your fucking business who she is. And you know better than to burst in here. Get the fuck out!”
“I’m not going anywhere unless you tell me who she is, Reaper! I’m your old lady!”
He moves so quickly by the time I register what he’s doing, his hand is wrapped tightly around her throat as she claws at his arms.
“You don’t wear my patch you stupid bitch. And don’t you ever fucking talk to her. Matter of fact, don’t you even look at her.”
“This bitch has no idea who you are,” she chokes out, her cheeks flush as she struggles. “You think she’ll let you do the things to her that you do to me?”
He visibly tenses, his jaw clenched.
“I’ll kill you.”
The threat slips off his tongue with such deadly calm I believe him when he says it. I scramble off the bed, and rush to Logan’s side.
I place my hand on his arm. “Logan.”
He looks down at my hand that’s resting on his arm, his eyes lingering before lifting his gaze to meet mine. His eyes are like soulless black pits devoid of any emotion other than pure rage.
I take a deep breath and release it to calm myself down. He’s scaring me right now, and I’m not the one who’s getting choked out.
“Logan.” I gently squeeze his arm. “I’m fine. Now, please let her go before you hurt her.”
His jaw ticks and the war raging in his eyes is very visible. He closes his eyes and with a deep breath he releases the woman, slightly pushing her away, which causes her to stumble as she grasps her neck where an angry handprint decorates her pale skin.
“You son of a bitch.” Her voice is strained, and her pale skin is now flaming red with fury and from being deprived of air. “You could have killed me.”
