Page 40 of Reaper & Ruin
He chuckled, clearly not buying my theatrics for a second. “You’re tougher than that.”
“Debatable,” I muttered, though I couldn’t help but smile as he slid onto the couch on the other side of me, pulling me close. The scent of soap and the fresh air clung to him, and I felt my body relax just a little more as his warmth seeped into me.
“Did the chocolate help at least?” he asked, his voice softer now as he stroked my arm.
“Definitely. But I kind of want more. Can we do a snack run in the morning? I know you don’t like taking me outside for safety reasons. But I’m going crazy, and if I have to look at the same walls again, I’m going to kill someone.”
“Of course we can. If you need a break for your mental health, then I can make it safe for you.” With his free hand, hegrabbed the remote, turning the TV on. “Let’s see if SpongeBob can take away some of your pain.”
I smiled, finally relaxing in his and Gio’s arms as the tension in my body slowly started to ease. I felt safe with them. Safe in this cabin, despite everything. Despite the fact that we were all living on borrowed time.
Atlas rubbed slow circles on my arm; Gio did the same to my stomach. And for a handful of hours, I could forget that we were one wrong moment away from losing everything entirely.
That somewhere, out in the cruel, dark world, Giorgio De Luca was plotting our demise, and we had only just touched the tip of the iceberg in trying to stop him.
Chapter Thirteen, Lionel
The morning sky was still dark as I turned onto the gravel drive leading to Leroux’s mechanics. An independent garage in the middle of Diamond Grove. The headlights of my car cut through the thick shadows cast by towering pines, their branches twisting together overhead. The drive had been long. Hours of empty roads and silence, but I didn’t mind. Night drives always gave me time to think, to plan, and this trip was no exception.
My head had been buzzing with thoughts and ideas, and now I felt calm again. In control.
The shop came into view as I crested the hill to find the sprawling cabin-like building that looked more at home in the woods than it would in any city. Three massive garage doors lined the front of the shop, their windows dark, while the second-floor apartment above glowed faintly with light. A thincurl of smoke rose from the chimney, twisting up into the pre-dawn air.
The place looked peaceful. Almost cozy, if you ignored the fact that the people who lived here could end you without a second thought.
I pulled into the gravel lot, cut the engine and stepped out with my knife firmly in the back of my jeans, not in my hand. My boots crunched against the stones as I approached, taking in the organized chaos of the shop that looked so clearly well loved. Spare parts and tools were scattered near the open door, along with a few vehicles in various stages of repair. One of them—a sleek, black sports car—was the focus of a tall, tattooed man leaning over its open hood, who stared at me as I headed his way.
His hair was tied back in a loose bun, grease smeared across his forearms and streaked along the side of his neck. He was wearing a tank top that clung to his broad shoulders, and his cargo shorts hung low enough on his hips to reveal the tattooed curve of his hipbone. He looked exactly the same as when I’d last seen him in London a few months back—grumpy, guarded, and ready to snap someone’s neck at the slightest provocation.
He was also still pretty. Far too pretty for a toy that was not mine.
As I approached, his hazel eyes flicked up to meet mine. His expression shifted immediately, his mouth tightening as his hand moved to the small of his back, brushing against the gun tucked into his waistband. He didn’t draw it, but the gesture was clear enough.
I let a slow, sharp grin stretch across my face. “That’s no way to greet a friend, is it Lionel?”
His scowl deepened, his fingers twitching near the gun. “Lincoln,” he snapped. “You know my name is Lincoln.”
“Ah, right,” I said, tilting my head in mock apology. “My bad.”
He glared at me, and for a moment, I thought he might actually be stupid enough to pull the gun. Instead, he straightened up, wiping his hands on a rag tucked into his pocket.
“What do you want, Atlas?” he said flatly, his tone edged with irritation. Anyone would have thought he didn’t like me. Heavens knew why.
I’d only threatened to murder his girlfriend once. And it wasn’t like I’d actually followed through, so really, what was his complaint?
“I’m here to see your queen,” I said, my grin widening. “Is she home and up at this hour? Or does she need more of her beauty sleep?”
Lincoln’s eyes narrowed further, but he jerked his chin toward the apartment above the shop. “Wait here. I’ll get her.”
I watched as he walked away, his shoulders stiff. He disappeared through a side door that led to the stairs, and I couldn’t help but chuckle softly to myself. The last time we’d met, he’d been just as grumpy, though I had to admit it was almost… endearing.
I enjoyed when people were mean to me. It made it so much more fun to wind them up and mess with their empty brains.
While I waited, I glanced around the lot again. Counting all the things I loved about Heaven in my head until I was bored of my internal voice, and just stood in silence. Fingers twitching. Foot tapping against the ground.
I wanted to go home. Get back into bed. I wanted to spread my girl’s thick thighs wide and wake her up when I filled her with my cum and made her happy.
The sound of the door creaking open drew my attention back to the stairs. Lincoln was coming down first, his expression still sour, but he wasn’t alone.
