Page 86 of The Reaper
My mind spun, replaying the camera footage I’d watched a dozen times on my phone, the clear feed a taunt that kept me pinned. Dean’s account confirmed a tall, hooded figure—definitely male—but in my line of work, assumptions were a death trap.
Could be a hired hand, a proxy making the break and drop to keep the real player clean. Failure gnawed at me, a crack in my defenses that could cost her. I wouldn’t forgive myself if my past—old enemies, old blood—bled into her world, tainting the empire she’d built from ash.
Meghan’s staff moved around us, sweeping glass, wiping tables, their faces tight with the strain of the break. Finn directed with quiet efficiency, his eyes flicking to Meghan, protective but careful not to step into my space. Alba, the hostess, stacked chairs with quick, practiced hands; Michael, the server, cleared glass with an easy stroke; Carly, refilling flower vases, moved with focused precision. No flinches, no guilty glances, but my gut screamed one of them was the crack.
Elias’s first background checks had come back clean. No follow on report yet. But someone with access, someone who moved like they belonged, was slipping those notes in, and I’d find them, no matter what it took.
I stepped into the kitchen, the air sharp with the scent of cleaning solution and lingering herbs, the stainless steel counters gleaming under fluorescent lights. I found Ryker,needing to know this wasn’t my shadows spilling onto Meghan. We stepped into the back hallway.
“I need to know this isn’t my past hitting her. I won’t let my life fuck hers,” I said.
Ryker exhaled, steady but heavy. “Timeline doesn’t line up. First note was before you walked into Promenade. No one could’ve predicted you’d go there, pick her. This is her world, not yours. But I’ll have Elias dig deeper—staff, vendors, regulars, facial rec, bank records, the works.”
I nodded, my fist clenching at the memory of that first night—seeing Meghan naked in her window, vulnerable, her silhouette glowing under the loft’s lights. Had someone else been watching, too?
The thought sent a trembling rage through me, my blood rising, my hands itching to break bone. “We find them,” I growled. “I’ll end it.”
“We will,” Ryker said. “But, Caleb, what if we push her to close Promenade, temporarily? Tell the public it’s a menu revamp, a remodel. Buy time to hunt this bastard without her in the crosshairs.”
I froze, the idea hitting like a cold slap. Close her restaurant? Her life, her dream, the thing she’d poured her soul into, plate by plate? Before I could respond, the kitchen door swung open, and Meghan stood there, eyes blazing, catching Ryker’s last words.
“No,” she snapped, voice sharp as a cleaver. “Absolutely not. I’d rather be dead than close Promenade.”
The words landed like a grenade, her defiance a fire that lit me up and burned all at once. I saw the knowing in Ryker’s eyes, a shared weight—calling on death was bad luck, a curse you didn’t tempt. Dad’s voice echoed in my head, low over a Montana campfire:No matter how bad it gets, you plan on living. Never bet on death.
I opened my mouth to calm her, to make her see reason, but she cut me off, stepping closer, her finger jabbing the air.
“You two can play soldier, save the day, do whatever the fuck you want, but I’m not leaving my restaurant,” she said, voice trembling with fury. “This is my life. Mine.” She turned, storming out, the door slamming behind her, the sound echoing like a gunshot in the kitchen.
I watched her go, my chest tight, my claim on Meghan clashing with her love for Promenade, a war I hadn’t seen coming. She’d fight to keep her world, even if it meant standing in the line of fire, and I’d fight to keep her safe, even if it meant caging her. That clash was a storm brewing, one that could tear us apart if I wasn’t careful. But careful wasn’t enough—she was mine, and I’d kill to protect her, no matter the cost.
Ryker broke the silence, his voice dry. “Well, we Danes sure know how to pick ‘em.”
I turned, surprised. “Meaning?”
He leaned against the counter, a faint smirk fading fast. “My wife’s a live wire, too. Burns bright, doesn’t bend. You’ll get it.”
I nodded, the air heavy between us. “Would you do anything for her?”
Ryker’s eyes went serious, hard as steel. “I have. Would again. Anything.”
“Good,” I said, voice low, my possessiveness surging, a dark promise. “Then you’ll understand when I find this bastard and rip his heart out of his chest.”
Ryker nodded, no judgment, just understanding, a brother who knew the weight of blood and loyalty. “Let’s make it quick.”
The kitchen was quiet now, the staff gone. I stepped back into the dining room, where Meghan was wiping down the hostess stand, her movements sharp, her intensity blazing despite the exhaustion in her shoulders.
Finn had left, the last of the glass swept, the boarded window a stark reminder of the threat. I watched her, my pulsing heart a live current, wanting to pull her close, claim her right there, tell her she didn’t have to fight alone.
But her love for this place, her empire, was a force as strong as mine. She would not bend, not for anything.
I moved to her, my hand brushing her lower back, possessive but gentle.
“We’ll figure this out,” I said, voice low. “You don’t have to carry it alone.”
She nodded, but her eyes were on the boarded window, her jaw tight. “I can’t lose this place, Caleb. It’s all I have.”
“You won’t,” I said, meaning it. “I’ll burn the world down before that happens.”
