Page 13 of Reaper
Kyra nods. “Thanks Jenny.”
Without missing a beat, Barry looks at the children and grins. “Looks like you’re stuck with me, kiddos.”
And like kids tend to do, they start peppering him with questions about what they can and can’t do. By the time they walk back through the hallway and out what I presume is a back door, he’s promised them ice cream for dinner and a movie.
Once they’re gone, Kyra glances at me. “I…” She swallows. “Thank you for?—”
“We’re just glad we got hungry and stopped,” Viking states. “Any clue who that is?” he asks, nodding toward the corpse.
Kyra shakes her head. “No.” Her expression doesn’t match the word.
Interesting.
She might not know who he is specifically, but she’s got at least a hunch about who sent them.
“We’ll figure it out,” I say, the words leaving my mouth before I can really think about what they mean.
“We?”
And just like that, I’ve linked myself to her come hell or highwater. I certainly didn’t want this assignment and cursed Odin numerous times for giving it to me, but I’d be lying if I didn’t admit there’s a small part of me that’s grateful he did.
Fuck Odin!
8
Kyra
All eyes are on me, and I swallow past the lump of… what? It’s not fear. The man and his friends did just save my life, after all. Adrenaline, then?
Yeah, adrenaline. That’s what I’m going with.
“Yes, we.”
His voice melts over me like hot butter, cauterizing my frayed nerves. I have no clue who he and his friends are, but I’d be lying if I said I’m not grateful they’re here.
Sirens wail in the distance, snapping me out of my stupor, and I shake my head to clear my thoughts. Within seconds, an unmarked car with flashing lights pulls into the parking lot.
I walk toward the door to greet them but am quickly diverted by strong hands grasping my forearms and guiding me to a stool at the counter.
“Let us handle this,” he orders.
Jenny and I exchange a look, and she shrugs. “I’m good with it, boss. I gotta get going anyway.”
“Yeah, you’re not going anywhere,” one of the other guys says. “They’re gonna want to question you.”
“Not if they don’t know I’m here,” she says as she makes her way to the hallway and disappears just as the cops step inside.
“Remind me to fire her,” I mutter.
“Oh, I will.” My rescuer leans close to me. “I’m Craig, by the way. But my friends call me Reaper.”
I open my mouth to make a comment about how his nickname is appropriate considering he just killed a man, but the cops take over the crime scene—Great, I’m now the proud owner of a crime scene—and for the next few hours, Craig takes the lead in responding to questions.
It crosses my mind to correct him when he tells the cops that it seemed like the attackers were just college kids blowing off some steam, but I end up keeping my mouth shut. It certainly doesn’t hurt that the dead guy appears to be in his early twenties, so the police believe everything they’re told.
After the body has been collected and we’re given reassurances that we’ll be kept informed as the investigation progresses, the officers leave. And without me asking, Craig’s friends begin to clean up.
“Why don’t you just relax, and we’ll take care of the mess?” he suggests.
