Reaper's Stand(101)

“So how’s Jessica?” he asked, as I started washing dishes. To my surprise he came over and picked up a towel to help dry. Didn’t fit the whole He-Man vibe of the past few days, but I guess even the manliest of men will pitch in if you feed him first.

“Still sleeping,” I said. “I don’t know how long it’ll be before she opens up about what happened. You notice how jumpy she was?”

“Yeah,” he said. “Not a good scene.”

That was the best opening I’d get, so I ran with it.

“We haven’t talked about what happens next,” I said hesitantly. “Crazy, but you realize it’s only been a little over a week since we first slept together?”

“Seems like longer,” he said, taking a plate from my hand. “Too much shit happenin’ too fast.”

“Hard to process all of it …” I said slowly. I turned to him, cocking my head. “I need to know—are we past what I did to you? Because I don’t understand how you could just let go of something like this. I’ve told you how sorry I am, but I can’t change what happened. I’ll understand if you can’t forgive me.”


“Let it go, babe.”

“But—”

“I don’t like that you did it, but I understand why and I don’t think you’ll do it again. Let. It. Go.”

I blinked rapidly, my eyes filling with tears.

“Thank you.”

He grunted, and we continued washing dishes for a few more minutes. I couldn’t relax, though, because there was another piece of unfinished business—and his reaction to it would tell me a lot.

“So … I found a place for us to rent this morning. We can actually move in as soon as we get back—my neighbor Danica has the keys waiting for us already, and it’s even furnished. That’ll get me and the girls out of your hair.”

Reese set down the plate very carefully and turned to face me, arms crossed. I kept washing, which was harder to do than you’d think with him standing there, his face like granite.

“You tryin’ to dump my ass?” he asked, his voice low and cold. I dropped the sponge and met his gaze, wiping my wet hands nervously on my thighs.

“I don’t know,” I admitted. “I don’t think so, but I don’t know what our relationship is, either. I mean, we agreed to see each other exclusively, then I tried to shoot you, then you threatened to slit my throat, and we finished things up by going on a killing spree together. This is outside my realm of experience, Reese. Does ‘let it go’ mean we’re still a couple, or does it just mean I shouldn’t worry about you killing me and hiding my body in the woods? Right now I’m unclear.”

His expression softened.

“I was kind of hoping we could move on to somethin’ a little less f*cked up. Maybe watch some movies, hang out and barbecue at my place? We’ve had a rough start, but we’ve covered a lot of ground fast, too. You know, Heather and I didn’t go on a killing spree together until we’d been married for a good five years. You think Jess was a complication? Imagine shootin’ up a cartel with two preschoolers taggin’ along.”

Holy f*ck.

His mouth quirked and then he reached up and gently pushed my jaw shut.

“London, I’m joking. This shit is not normal. None of it. But this part isn’t a joke—we both got a lot to answer for, but I’m hopin’ you’ll give me another shot and maybe I can do the same for you? No reason for you to move out, sweetheart. I like havin’ you around. Like it a lot.”

I studied his face, trying not to fall into those gorgeous eyes of his. They always got to me—no man should be that beautiful. But it wasn’t just about me.

“Jess needs a place to heal up,” I told him softly. “You’ve got the club in and out of your place all the time, and right now she’s scared of men. I need some space, too. Things happened too fast, and I want to be sure that we’re doing this for the right reasons. Sometimes you have to take a step back if you want to move forward.”

“You sound like a refrigerator magnet,” he said, his voice tight. “I’m not gonna walk away from us, London. What we were workin’ on was different. Real. I want that and you do, too.”

“Renting my own place isn’t walking away from us,” I replied. “But we barely had time for there to be an us. We had sex on a Wednesday and by Saturday I was spying on you. Tuesday I got kill orders. All I want is my own space while we explore us, whatever that might end up being. We’ll take it from there.”

“I don’t like it.”

I narrowed my eyes at him.

“Did Heather always do what you told her to do?”

He stilled, and I wondered if bringing her up was a mistake. But he’d started it …

“Heather almost never did what I told her,” he admitted. “In front of the club? Sure. But she also liked to keep a knife next to the bed. Always said I was free to f*ck whoever I wanted, so long as I understood that the night I came home smellin’ like another woman would be the night she killed me in my sleep.”

I bit back a smile, looking up at him through my lashes.

“She sounds like she was a hell of a woman.”

“She was. But she’s dead, and you’re a hell of a woman, too, London. Come back home with me.”