by R. J. Lewis
Reaper glared at him. “Olivia is my business.”
“And she’s my fucking business too,” Shane growled, unable to hold back. Because she was. She always had been. “You’re not the only who cares for her. Make her happy, Reaper.”
Reaper looked away, but he let out an assertive nod. “Yeah, old man, sure.”
Shane’s blood pressure rose. “I’m forty-eight, Reaper.”
“So?”
“You keep calling me ‘old man’.”
Reaper chuckled, ironically. “You fucking idiot. I akin you to a dad to her. I didn’t literally mean old.”
Shane froze. Now he felt fucking stupid.
“You ain’t the only one who’s been watching out for her,” Reaper added, walking off.
Thirty-Two
Reaper
He knew something was wrong. He could feel it in the air. He kept all the guards out, even when the rain started pouring. He couldn’t risk it.
The day they left the mansion, he’d spotted a look. A weird look from one of the caretakers. Like the guy was examining them. Reaper recognized that look. He knew it was off, and he knew something was coming.
“Why are you still out?” Olivia asked, poking her head out the door of the hut, watching him.
Reaper scanned the jungle as the goose bumps rose on his skin. “Get inside, babe.”
She hesitated, sensing his mood immediately. “Who found us?”
She knew. Smart girl. “I’m tryin’ to figure that out.”
He was also trying to figure out he could take her out of there. The jeep was still parked, but it was bogged in the mud and he’d need the men to help move it. He tried to think of a fast escape. Somewhere she could go when they came…because he knew they were coming.
You don’t get a look like that and not know.
“Remy…”
While he loved her mouth fucking his name these days, he couldn’t get distracted right now. He looked over his shoulder, sternly repeating, “Get inside, Olivia.”
She knew that no-bullshit look. Nodding, she shut the door.
I whistled one of my men over and told him to fetch me Logan. When Logan arrived ten minutes later, he said, “Shitstorm is coming. We gotta get all our guns ready.”
Logan looked at him for a long moment. “That guy at the house, right? Doing the lawn?”
Reaper nodded. Logan had seen it too.
See? You don’t get a look like that and not know.
“I need you to stand right here and look out for me. I gotta talk to Olivia about something important.”
Truth was, Reaper hadn’t been out of the game for a while now. Being behind the scenes of a mob meant not getting your hands directly dirty anymore. Reaper feared he’d gone soft. Worried that his instincts weren’t as keen as before. And if something happened tonight, he needed to be fucking certain she knew.
She needed to know everything.
He walked inside. She was standing by the bed, looking equally nervous. She sensed it too. Something was coming.
“Is it bad?” she asked.
“No knowing at this time,” he answered. “I need you to sit down.”
She sat down but asked, “Why?”
He stood in front of her, feeling scared for the first time in years. Genuine terror he would lose her when he’d only just got her.
“Sometimes, Olivia,” he said, “Enemies can hide in plain sight.”
Thirty-Three
Liv
I waited for him to tell me what was wrong. He looked terrified he was going to lose me.
“What if I leave you after this?” I asked, worried.
“I can’t let you go,” he answered. “We’re married.”
“Fuck off, Remy, we had no witnesses at that wedding. I know how it works lawfully.”
“I got those papers done.”
“You need my signature.”
“I got it done,” he repeated.
I rolled my eyes, holding back my laugh. “You’re funny. So, fine, you forged my signature, and we’re married legally. Do I just divorce you?”
“I can’t let you go. My heart wouldn’t take it.”
I nodded. “Okay, good. You’re talking feelings. Things are looking in your favour. So, talk to me then. What’s so important?”
“I’m –”
Shots tore the air, loud, close. I jumped, terror washing over me.
“Reap!” shouted Logan. “They’re everywhere!”
There was shouting everywhere. More shots fired.
“Get under the bed, Olivia,” Reaper growled at me as the shots grew nearer. “GET UNDER THE GROUND NOW!”
I dropped to the ground and slid under the bed, filled with horror. He grabbed the covers and shoved them under the bed, hiding me.
“You stay there and don’t you fucking move,” he ordered. Then he stormed out. The door opened, and those shots sounded louder, piercing through the air. I panted under the bed, shaking as I waited.
And waited.
And waited.
The shots went on forever. I was panicking so hard, I had no sense of time.
I lay there, not moving. I shook, though. The adrenaline was at full-throttle, making me nauseous. I shut my eyes tight. I felt alone, in danger, scared. All those fucked up feelings began to hit.
“No, no, no,” I whimpered, “not now.”
I thought of my mother’s dead body, cold to the touch.
I thought of those cheese slices, and the gnaw of hunger in my belly.
I thought of Bogeyman telling me I was going to disappear.
I thought of Eternity Man, promising me he would rescue me.
“Mom, want to play Operation…” I took a deep breath, shaking my head, pushing back those faces, those memories. “Fuck off. Go away.”
I held my breath, calming my shaking, my heart.
Everything outside went quiet, and the door opened. I opened my eyes, unable to see anything with the covers in my way. The footsteps were loud, but they didn’t thud like Reaper’s boots did. I let the breath out quietly, and then sucked another breath in, holding it.
“Hey, little piggie,” sand a voice. “What do you do to lesser people? You know this one, Olivia. I told you it, remember? Not so long ago. What do I do to lesser people?
I shook harder than anything now.
Tony.
I wrapped a hand around my mouth. Fuck, fuck, fuck.
“Why, I release them into the wild,” he continued, moving around the room. “I hunt them down like prey. And you know why I do that, if you remember. Do you want to answer, Olivia, why I do that to lesser people?”
I went stiff as a board, trying to stop the shaking. The footsteps neared the bed. Oh, my God.
“I do that, Olivia,” he spoke slowly, “so I can watch the pride flee from their” – the covers moved slowly to the side, and then he was staring at me – “eyes.”
He reached for me and I screamed, trying to claw at his hand. He grabbed by the wrist and dragged me out from under the bed. He dropped his gun and forced me down on the bed with both hands.
“How’s married life, bitch?” he asked, forcing me in place with my arms out-stretched. “Is it fun? Has he fucked you? Did he do it with a knife, Olivia? Please, tell me he did, so I can at least fantasize how you looked as it tore through your cunt.”
I screamed at the top of my lungs.
“Yes, good, scream,” he growled. “I love a good scream. He’s dead, by the way. Your man. Yeah, I shot him. He went down. Bleeding out as we speak. Dying so slowly out there in the middle of hell.”
I sobbed out. Horrified. “No, that’s not true!” I cried. “No, it’s not.”
His face dropped down to mine. His eyes never looked so insane as he studied me. “Fuck me, honey, you loved the guy or something? Why are you squealing like a stuck pig?”
My body flailed helplessly under him. He was fucking strong. Stronger than I thought. His hair fell over his forehead as he worked to kee
p me down.
“I’m gonna release you out there,” he said. “I’m gonna make you run, and I’m gonna hunt you down, but first…first I want to do what I promised. And I’m gonna do it without tying you down because I wanna see you force yourself not to move. I wanna you hate yourself as I slide that baby…”
He let go of one of my hands, and I started to hit him. He pulled a switch blade out from his pocket quickly, and he slashed at the air where my hand was. It tore into my palm. I screamed from the pain and dropped my hand down. He followed it with his blade, slashing the air around it, purposely missing me by an inch. I shook, and he smiled like the sick fuck that he was.
He brought the blade down to forehead.
“No, no, no,” I stuttered, shaking my head. “Stop, no.”
“Don’t move, darling, you’re already cutting yourself.”
I felt the blade drag along my forehead. I stopped moving it and went still.
“Jesus,” he looked incredulous, “where was this cooperation before, Olivia? Was this the key this whole time? Shame I didn’t try it sooner. We’d be married by now. But it’s too late.”
I didn’t respond. I glared into his eyes, barely breathing, barely moving.
“Keep looking at me like that,” he said, getting angry. “Resist me with your glares. You’ve always been so good at fighting back. Now it’s my turn.”
He began pulling down my pants, the knife’s point still at my forehead. I sucked in a breath, moaning out my tears. I couldn’t move. The only chance I would have to get away was when he would move the knife between my legs. Just the thought made more tears fall.
“Everyone’s dead?” I asked. “Please, tell me.”
He was too focused on sliding my pants the whole way down without moving the knife.
“Yeah, my men are working on it,” he said distractedly. “Did I tell you before how loyal my men still are? I got them everywhere. Little spies talking in my ear. They told me about your wedding. It sounded precious. Shame about your guy. His men are going down as we speak. It’s messy.” He sounded like he was updating me on the fucking weather. “Now slide your pants off your ankles, Olivia.”
I did as I was told, waiting for the moment.
“Your underwear’s coming next,” he explained, like this was some kind of fucking operation. “Nice lace ones. Is this what I’ve missed out on, bride?”
I pressed my lips together, disgusted. “How sure are you Remy’s dead?”
Distracted again, pulling my underwear down, he muttered, “Remy?”
“Reaper.”
“Ah, yes, Reaper. Yeah, he’s dead. I gave him a kill shot. I’m a good shot, by the way. I don’t think I ever told you that when we courted each other.”
Fresh tears sprang in my eyes. “You’re sick.”
“What?”
My eyes cut into his. “I said you’re sick. You’re so fucking sick.”
He paused and looked at me like I was the crazy one. “My family were murdered. I lost everything. My power. My place at the table was torn from me. And you’re calling me sick? I stuck to my word. I didn’t go on a killing frenzy.” Now his anger grew. He pulled the knife away and pointed it at me, accusingly. “Were you part of this too? Did you fucking know? Is that why you were such a defiant bitch that morning?”
I put my hands out as a shield as he waved the knife around looking like a madman. I didn’t respond. He slapped my face with his other hand and then grabbed my chin painfully. He leaned over me, his eyes snarling into mine.
“You fucking knew,” he said, sounding betrayed. “You fucking knew. I fucking knew it.”
“I know you’re a fucking crazy, batshit, evil fuck!” I gritted out.
He punched me right in the eye this time. I groaned out in pain. My head felt light and dizzy. He punched me again and blood poured from my nose. I still couldn’t defend myself. The knife waved around my face, sliding along my cheek.
Then a creak sounded from behind him. He stopped and looked back. Remy stood there, black tee soaked in blood, face coated in rain and more blood.
“You’re fucked,” he told him, just as he stuck his own blade into Tony’s neck. Blood poured out of him, gushing all over me. Tony dropped the knife and threw his hands over his gashed throat. He sucked in breaths, looking far off with panicked eyes. Remy gripped him and forced him off me.
“I’m glad I got to kill you,” he snarled, watching him bleed out. “I’ll put this date on my chest too, you sick fuck.”
I lay, shaking on the bed, my teeth chattering. When Remy looked at me, his face fell.
“Olivia.” Remy was at my side, grabbing me desperately. His voice broke. “Are you okay, baby? Please. Not this again. Fuck. Look at me, baby.”
I looked at him. Remy looked panicked. “Hey, hey, you’re okay, feisty. You’re okay. I got you, hey?”
“I can’t move,” I chattered.
“That’s just your body, baby. It’s just your body shutting down.”
“You’re hurt.” I stared at his shoulder, terrified.
“It hurts like a motherfucker, but I’m alright. He aimed on the wrong side.”
I started crying. “I thought you died.”
He took me into his arms and hugged me to his chest, rocking me back and forth. He shook hard. Adrenaline or fear, I didn’t know. I still couldn’t move, but my eyes wandered to his dead body.
“Don’t look at him,” he said. “Don’t look.”
“I want to,” I clenched out, angry. “I want to see him dead.”
More gunfire sounded, but it was growing further away now.
“They’re being driven out,” he told me, listening to it also. “We had more men, more guns. Tony’s pride killed him.”
I smiled bitterly at the irony. “How fitting.”
“Stop looking,” he said. “It ain’t good for you.”
I buried my face back into his chest. I looked up at him, at the curve of his jaw.
“You’re okay,” he told me.
My chest fluttered, realization dawning.
“I think I always knew,” I suddenly said.
He looked down at me, his eyes watering.
“I’m not going anywhere,” I told him.
Because he did.
He did rescue me.
Nobody was badly injured. Tony’s group was small. He thought he had the element of surprise in his favour, but Remy always had his men out patrolling, and they always knew what to look out for.
Regardless of Tony’s defeat, it left everyone shaken up. Remy wasn’t going to waste any more time.
They waited until the rains stopped, and then they torched their whole operation. The flames reached high and wide. Everyone stood, watching. Remy held me to him, watching with dead eyes as everything burned.
“Let it fucking burn,” he muttered. “Let it burn to ash. Then we’ll start over again.”
I understood his message. It was directed to himself. He stared into the flames, letting his past go up in ash.
Then he looked down at me. “Let’s go home.”
Thirty-Four
Dillinger
These parties were fake. Just another excuse for these fakes to get loaded in his penthouse on his dime. Dillinger walked throughout the home, alone, commanding every room the second he walked in. It wasn’t about the fancy tailored suits, or his sharp expression. It was more than that. It was a primitive command, the kind not many men possessed. The kind he found immediately in Remy Martinez.
He found him seated on the sofa with Olivia. Dillinger pretended to wind his pocket watch, peering down, but really, he was watching her from the corner of his eye, wondering if she was happy.
He was always watching her. Always trying to protect her. Why else arm her with the best of the best like Shane? Or find the best husband he would have bet his soul would die fighting for her? Everyone kept thinking they were smarter than him. That they had these grand secrets. That Dillinger didn’t know.
&nbs
p; But he knew.
Dillinger knew everything.
He kept his feelings locked away, but he still felt them. The difference between him and Reaper was that he’d gone further down that apathetic road than him. He’d become empty. Full tank empty. Not the kind of empty where you get to the bottom and there’s still something left. Because that kind of empty can be saved. Like Reaper. He had been that kind of empty. And he’d been wise reaching for his daughter, knowing she was the only one that could save him.
See, Dillinger could have been saved too.
But he let that woman go twenty-four years ago.
And now he was empty.
Olivia was his everything. But nobody knew that. Not even she did. It was best that way. He didn’t have to show emotion that way. He didn’t have to speak it, either. He didn’t have to make warm gestures. He could simply feel these things and remain alone, intact, in the background.
He watched her from the corner of his eye sitting on the couch, holding Sonja’s hand. They caught up on everything together. They missed each other fiercely. Sonja had been so dejected without her.
Reaper was drawing circles on Olivia’s knee, looking at her with the most serene expression. He loved her. They were good together, Dillinger knew. Shane stood beside him as they watched the couple.
“Reaper’s not from here,” Shane said. “He just purchased a penthouse.”
Dillinger nodded. “Sure.”
“Olivia’s been talking about opening a housing facility for the homeless.”
Dillinger resisted smiling. Of course she would. Her business degree wasn’t going to be entirely useless.
“Do you even fucking care, Dillinger?” Shane snapped, already fuming. “Ever since she was little, you’ve been looking at her with that fucking face.”
“What face?”
“Bored. You look bored. Like you don’t give a fuck.”
Dillinger didn’t respond. He simply patted Shane once on the shoulder and walk further into the room, rounding the couch, glimpsing over at Olivia, watching her laugh. His heart squeezed. Reaper caught his eye. They looked at one another for a few beats.