Page 11 of Reaper
“What did you say?”
“You heard me.”
He stomps closer and reaches across the counter to backhand me across the face. Pain radiates from my cheekbone, and I do my best to ignore it.
“Give me the money.”
I stare the man down, doing my best to memorize anything I can about him. It’s difficult considering he’s mostly covered up, but his eyes… cold, hard, dark, and deadly.
“I said,” he seethes. “Gimme the damn money!”
“C’mon, boss,” Jenny pleads. “It’s not like there’s a lot there.”
I cut my eyes to her and glare, silently demanding she shut up. She must get the hint because she presses her lips together.
“Dude, she’s not gonna give it up,” the man guarding her says. “Time to force her hand.”
Fear skitters down my spine. What the fuck does that even mean?
The ass who hit me starts to make his way around the counter, his prowl reminding me of a predator stalking its prey.
This can’t be happening.
7
Reaper
The rumble of our Harleys surrounds me as we travel the last few miles. This is the third time we’ve been sent to the human world, but it’s also the most confusing. The only information we were given was that a woman named Kyra Thomas needs my help. Sure, Ms. Steinbeck gave us all a picture of her, and sure, she’s fucking beautiful, but that doesn’t mean I want anything to do with this mission.
Viking and Inferno pull into the parking lot, and the rest of us follow suit. We should’ve arrived hours ago, but it took Grump longer than expected to get his bearings from the transition, and we couldn’t very well put him in danger because that would’ve slowed us down more.
As I cut my engine, I take in our surroundings. It’s only four o’clock, and I expected the place to be packed. When I was alive, diners were the place to go after school to hang out with your friends and bitch about the day.
But all I see is a van in the handicapped parking space, and it’s idling.
Odd.
“Not what I was expecting,” Viking comments.
“Are we sure this is the right place?” Grump asks as he swings his leg over his seat.
“It’s the address Ms. Steinbeck gave us,” Inferno replies.
“Only way to find out is to go inside,” Acid suggests.
“Go for it,” I snap.
“This is your show, Reaper,” Pres reminds me unhelpfully. “Pretty sure it has to be you who goes first.”
“Why are you so?—”
Glass shatters, and we all whip our heads toward the front of the building. My gaze lands on the chaos beyond the broken window, and my legs carry me toward it.
“Guess we’re going in,” I hear Grump mutter as they follow me without question.
As if tethered by an invisible cable, my eyes immediately land on a woman behind the counter. I recognize her from the dossier Ms. Steinbeck gave us.
Her picture didn’t do her an ounce of justice.
