Reaper's Stand(84)

Crawling under it wasn’t easy, but I figured the wool might help me stay warm. Theoretically, wool holds in heat even when it’s wet. Practically, huddling under a wet wool blanket in a basement sucks ass, and I’m saying that as a lady who tries not to cuss. My teeth started chattering as I considered my options.

I still wasn’t quite sure what to make of that last little episode with Reese. I felt sore between my legs and dirty in my soul, but I couldn’t deny it’d been the best sex I’d ever had in my life. Messed up, but I don’t believe in hiding from the truth—apparently scary life-and-death situations turned me on.

Or at least they turned me on when Reese was involved.

Go figure.

I supposed I could use that to try to stay alive, manipulate him somehow—I was over the whole “I don’t care if I live or die” numb feeling from the night before. When the shit hit the fan and Reese whipped out that big knife of his, I had very much wanted to live.

Okay, so I had that figured out. I wasn’t going to just lie down and die. Good to know.

But what was I willing to do to stay alive? Yesterday I’d decided to kill an innocent man to save Jessica’s life. That hadn’t ended so well for me, and I was forced to admit the truth. I really wasn’t a very good assassin. This limited my options, which was probably just as well.

So what should I do next?

The answer seemed clear. I’d do whatever I could to help the Reapers fight their enemies, because despite my little episode with Reese, I knew who the real bad guys were. Nate and his drug dealer friends down south. They’d killed Amber, they were killing Jessica—if they hadn’t already—and they’d almost made me kill Reese.

A knife at my throat followed by crazy monkey sex in a basement wasn’t all that bad in comparison. I tried to shoot him. In exchange he’d given me two orgasms, so I guess in some ways that counted as a win?

Maybe the Reapers would be able save Jessica, although whether they’d be motivated to try was a whole different question. I certainly couldn’t do anything more for her at this point, and the cops obviously weren’t an option. Assholes. If I got very lucky, Jessica might live. If cooperating with the Reapers raised those odds in any way, I’d consider helping them my new goal in life.

And if Jessica died?

Well, then I’d spend whatever time and freedom I had left hunting down the f*ckwads who’d done this to us. I might be a crappy assassin, but I was a fast learner and I had a sneaking suspicion that Reese would be a hell of a good teacher.

Sound crazy?

Probably, but what other options did I have? The only ones who hadn’t lied to me or used me were Reese and his brothers, and we shared a common enemy. Wars have been won with less, so maybe we could pull something off.

Assuming they didn’t kill me first.





CHAPTER FIFTEEN


REESE

“Nate Evans. Always a pleasure.”

I smiled at my least favorite law enforcement officer, because some twisted part of me was almost relieved he’d finally f*cked up bad enough for us to take him out. The once and future prince of the Kootenai County Sheriff’s Department sat tied to a metal chair in the center of our interrogation-slash-torture room, face covered with fresh bruises.

Not a bad look on him.

Bolt loosened the bandanna gagging Nate’s mouth, smacking him on the head in the process for good measure. Deputy Dick had pulled Maggs over for “speeding” once.


Bolt wasn’t a fan.

“Have you lost your f*cking mind?” Nate demanded. “I’m a cop. They’ll be looking for me—they’ll never stop. Not even you guys can kidnap a deputy and get away with it.”

“I got a feeling Bud will find evidence that you were embezzling, and that you took off,” I said slowly. “Sounds like a cold case to me. Ya think?”

“You can’t do this,” he said, shaking his head in blind denial. “My family will destroy you. This isn’t how it works.”

“I think it’s safe to say that today, this is how it works,” I told him, feeling a smile creep across my face. “You f*cked up, but I have good news for you. You still got a shot to get out of here alive.”

He shook his head and spat.

“You’ll never let me go,” he said. “You know you’re f*cked.”

“But you said I was f*cked if I didn’t let you go,” I countered mildly. “You should probably work on those threats a bit. These contradictions are confusing, and you really can’t afford to have us get frustrated, now can you?”

Horse grinned.

“I think I should be the one to do it,” he told me. “I don’t really have anything against him. Not personally, I mean. You all have too many reasons to want him to suffer before he dies, so letting me kill him fast would really be the merciful thing.”

I shrugged.

“You’re probably right. You know how sloppy I get when I’m pissed off, and then the prospects will have a big mess to clean up.”

Horse carefully took off his cut, folding it and handing it to Bam Bam. Then he picked up a hammer and started toward Evans, whistling a familiar tune faintly. I tried to place it …

“The Wheels on the Bus.”

Fucked-up shit, but that’s sort of what we loved about Horse.