Page 58 of Rebels & Rejects

“Hey, man,” he greets Jon. “You good to go?”

Jon gives him a chin lift in greeting, saying, “Sure,” before looking back at me. “Cain asked me to bring you, too.”

Of course, the fucking asshole did. He couldn’t have just asked me to come over himself. It’s been over a week since Oliver followed me to the edge of the city and watched me murder one of Bedlam’s men in cold blood. In all honesty, I’ve been expecting the summons for days now, although that doesn’t mean hearing the actual demand doesn’t grate on my fucking nerves.

“I’m in the middle of something, but I’ll swing by this afternoon.”

Jon grimaces, and before he even has to say it, I know that’s not an option. “Sorry, Red. He gave me strict instructions.”

I’m sure he did, and when the dipshit king gives a decree, itmustbe obeyed.

Pursing my lips, I huff out a breath before growling, “Fine, give me a sec.”

I take my sweet time doing my make-up, ensuring I’ve got the whole smokey-eye effect just right and that my lips pop with the bright red lipstick before I change into dark skinny jeans and a band tee, and I finish the look off with my thigh-high boots. Reaching under my mattress to retrieve my blades, I tuck them into the slit along the top. Just before I leave the room, I grab my purse, ensuring my small Glock 43 is inside it. I don’t expect to need either the knives or the gun, but as far as I’m concerned, Cain has called a meeting with the Reaper, so the Reaper is who he’ll get.

I plaster a bright smile to my face as I step out into the living room, finding both boys glued to the TV.

“Ready.”

Jon barely spares me a passing glance as he gets to his feet, but Luc gives me a quizzical look that makes my insides twist uneasily. I’ve been telling him I’ve been liaising with Cain and the Rejects regarding issues to do with Strip Tease, but I think he’s beginning to see through that bald-faced lie. Thankfully he doesn’t say anything, though. Instead, he follows Jon to the door while I grab the house keys and lock up, and the three of us head down to the street.

There’s a large SUV parked at the curb, similar to the one Oliver was driving when he dropped Luc home several weeks ago, and the lights flash as Jon taps the key fob, gesturing for us to get in.

Luc doesn’t bat an eye as he slips into the front passenger seat, and I guess why should he, he’s been in the car before, but I hesitate for a second before pulling on the handle and climbing into the back. I notice Jon glance up at me through the rearview mirror, like he half expected me to put up a fight before Luc engages him in conversation, and the two of them talk about some computer game I’ve never heard of as we peel down the street.

I drown out their conversation, instead focusing on steadying my breathing and getting into the headspace of the Reaper. It’s difficult because, even though I hate Cain, he’s not an abusive shitstain who deserves to die. It makes it hard to grasp that cold, detached part of me that revels in the blood and violence. Nevertheless this meeting I’m walking into with Cain is purely business. There’s no room for anger. There’s no space for emotions. The last time I approached them about this job, I was a fucking fountain of emotion, pissing anger and resentment everywhere. That led me to fucking Cain in a changing room and having sex with Oliver mere hours later. That can’t happen again. If there’s to be a business relationship between us, then there can’t be a sexual one. It’s as simple as that.

Not that I want to have sex with Cain again. That was a momentary lapse of judgment brought about by said leaking of emotions and a nasty concussion.

Now Oliver, well, that’s an entirely different matter. The jolt of excitement shooting through me at the mere mention of his name is telling enough of how easily I’d climb back into bed with him. But if I’m going to team up with the Rejects to take down the entire Antonelli syndicate, then that needs to be the focus—theentirefocus. Fuck knows it’s a near-impossible job as it is, nevermind throwing some sort of sexual or emotional relationship into the mix. That would be a guaranteed recipe for failure.

I’m startled out of my thoughts as the car comes to a stop, and I blink as I look out the passenger window at the front entrance to Radiant Park.Damn, I hadn’t even noticed we’d made it across town already.I follow Luc and Jon out of the car, but as they move toward the building rather than the gym across the street, I call out, “Uh, where are you two going?” It hadn’t crossed my mind that they would be going into the complex—the heart of the Rejects, where no doubt shady shit is going down. They were setting the front lobby up as a goddamn bar last time I was here. There could be hookers or anything right behind that door.

Luc rolls his eyes, frowning at me as he grits out, “Sawyer,” in a low voice.

My own eyes narrow on him, as I see Jon physically perk up. His lips part in a silent O, and I shift my gaze to him, pinning him with a grave glare—a silent threat that he should casually ignore what he just heard. Very few people know my real name. Not because of any particular reason, it just kinda happened that way. When Mom died, and we started living on the streets, I had to become a different person—someone tougher—but I didn’t want to loseme.The person I had to pretend to be when I was pickpocketing, fighting over scraps of food, or giving blow jobs for cash, wasn’t the person I wanted to be when I was with Luc. I didn’t want him to see me as all sharp edges and emotionally unavailable, so I found it easier to develop a different persona when dealing with people on the street while at the same time keeping the softer parts of myself just for Luc. It was like our little secret. Sheryl and Grace are the only other people who know my actual name. To everyone else, I’m Red. The red-haired bitch who’ll slice you in half with a death glare and won’t hesitate to put you on your knees if you dare go near what’s hers.

“Relax,Red,” Jon says with a smirk, earning himself another glare. “We’re just going to play some video games. We have a room down the back. There won’t be any drugs or alcohol, or guns, or hookers.”

I purse my lips, still not liking any of this. “Fine, you can go.”

“It’s not like I was asking for your permission, but thanks,” Luc drawls, his attitude making my eyebrows climb up my forehead.The fucking nerve of him!

Before I can say something that will no doubt only escalate things, Jon drags him off across the parking lot, and with a resigned sigh, I follow after them.

I follow them through the front bar area, which is surprisingly empty—although it is only early afternoon—and into the hallway leading toward the rear of the building. When I pause outside Cain’s office, I watch them for a second until they disappear around a corner at the end of the hall before putting all thoughts of Luc to the back of my mind. I take a moment to empty my head of all thoughts and feelings, descending into the cool calm of the Reaper. When I’m confident my expression says,you don’t want to mess with me, I turn the door handle and step into the office.

I hesitate with my hand still on the handle as I glance around the room, surprised not to sense Cain’s suffocating presence immediately. Instead, Oliver is reclining in the chair behind the desk, with his fingers hovering over a laptop in front of him as he looks right at me, a small smile lifting his lips.

“He’s in the gym,” he explains before I can ask. “Figured it was in everyone's best interest if he burnt off some of that anger he constantly has.”

I give a slow nod of my head. “Good to know it’s not just me he can’t stand.”

Oliver barks out a soft chuckle. “Oh, you definitely have a way of getting under his skin.”

I still haven’t moved from the doorway, and honestly, I’m not sure how to behave around him. He’s made it clear he wants something more with me, but I’m not sure I can offer him that.

“Did you show him the recording?” I ask, wanting to understand the situation better before getting any closer to him, and my rising hormones start messing with my logic.

---