Reaper’s Property

by Kathryn Thomas

  “Why did he do it?” I asked. It didn’t make sense why someone would ruin art. I was an artist. I couldn’t imagine trying to destroy something that someone else had put their heart and soul into.

  Hopper shrugged. “Damned if I know. I wasn’t on duty when he was arrested; it was my day off.”

  “At least we have a name now. It’s enough for my men to work with.”

  Hopper shook his head. “I am going to pretend you didn’t say any of that. It sounds like a threat, and that doesn’t bode well around these parts. We’re at a police station, for God’s sake.”

  Logan shrugged as if he couldn’t care less what he said and how it was interpreted. I understood what Hopper was on about, but I knew what Logan was upset about, too. People were dying. Someone was murdering artists for expressing themselves, and it was downright offensive.

  “Thank you for your help, Earl,” Logan said curtly.

  We left the storage room – letting Hopper escort us to the entrance of the police station before Hopper walked back to his office and Logan and I stepped back into the sunlight, into freedom.

  “When I’m done with him, Christopher Maxwell is going to be sorry he messed with the artists around town. No, in fact, he won’t be sorry. You can’t regret something when you’re dead. My men will be all too glad to get rid of him.”

  “Why are you so against him?” I asked. I knew the man had murdered, and he was obviously a dangerous person, but Logan was vehement about it.

  “Because he’s threatening the artists and Amy is one of them. Which makes the artists my people. And no one threatens my people.”

  I understood Logan’s rage and his need to physically make it right. It was in his nature to want to fuck anyone up that crossed the line and broke his rules. But I had a better idea.

  “I don’t think you should go after him, if that’s what you’re planning,” I said.

  Logan blinked at me. “And why not? He deserves to die.”

  “But he might get wind of it. And if he finds out you’re after him, he’ll either slip away only to do it somewhere else, or start killing our people left, right, and center.”

  I could tell from his expression that he knew I was right, of course. He didn’t want to admit it, but I was right. The answer wasn’t violence, although it solved a lot.

  “So what would you do, princess?” he asked sarcastically.

  I shook my head. “I’m going to pretend that nickname was handed to me with love and that you didn’t just sneer at me.”

  Logan looked over my shoulder, too unwilling to make eye contact, too proud to apologize.

  “This is what’s going to happen,” I said, powering on. “We’re not going after Maxwell. You can assign your men to protect artists if you must but don’t let him find out we’re onto him. He might run, or he might do something drastic. Instead, we carry on as per usual, and when he least expects it – when he’s so busy watching us that he doesn’t realize we have Hopper and other cops watching him –, we nail him.”

  Logan raised his eyebrows.

  “What?” I asked.

  “You’re something else, Hazel Lynn. I’ll arrange it with the guys to keep their eyes open, and we’ll get Earl involved. I want two of my men tailing him as best they can without being noticed.”

  I nodded. It sounded a lot better than killing someone, even if it had only been a joke. The fact was that I wasn’t a hundred percent sure Logan was joking because I wasn’t a hundred percent sure he hadn’t taken someone’s life before.

  “As for Hopper, I’ll call him tonight and discuss it.”

  Logan pulled me closer, planting his lips on mine. It was out of the blue, and I yelped. When Logan let me go, he was grinning.

  “You’re adorable,” he said.

  “You’re incorrigible,” I responded. But I was smiling and blushing, and my body responded to the physical contact – the way Logan had grabbed me and again taken what he wanted.

  “I think we should go tagging soon,” I said. “Give Maxwell a reason to tail us.”

  “I think you’re playing with fire. Who said you were the one that was going to act as bait?”

  I shook my head. “I can’t risk anyone else getting hurt. At least I know you’ll watch my back, no matter what.

  “I will.”

  “Right. Then that’s settled.”

  Logan wanted to argue, but there was nothing he could say. I had won the argument, my solution was better, and thus I was on top of my game.

  Chapter Twelve

  I didn’t get to sleep with Logan. I didn’t realize how much I wanted it until we hadn’t done it either. It wasn’t only about sex. Somewhere I had gotten addicted to the closeness that came with having sex with Logan, to let him dominate me and have his way with me. When I let him take control, it made me feel empowered, and it was what I lived for.

  Being a graffiti artist when everyone in my life – those who knew – had been against it was the same thing. Liberating.

  When I woke up in the morning, it took me a moment to realize where I was. The guest bedroom I was in was neutral, decorated in greens and yellows to work for anyone. I sat up and heard Amy babbling away to Logan in the kitchen, realizing where I was.

  I got dressed before walking into the kitchen. I may have been staying with them, but I wasn’t ready to walk around in my pajamas yet.

  “Morning,” I said, and Logan and Amy both looked at me.

  Amy sat on the counter, eating cereal. Logan smiled when I walked in. He wore jeans but no shirt, and I had to stare. We had slept together a lot, but I had never seen him like this, in broad daylight. His muscles rippled under his skin when he moved, a bronze tan stretching over the top half of his body and somehow it made his icy blue eyes stand out that much more.

  “How did you sleep?” he asked.

  I nodded. “Well enough, thank you. It’s kind of you to let me stay here.”

  “I’m going to get dressed,” Amy announced, still in her pajamas. She hopped off the counter and disappeared.

  “Don’t even think about saying that,” Logan said when she was gone. “It’s my job to keep you safe. You and the baby.”

  I swallowed hard. I tried to forget about the baby when I could. I had much bigger things to worry about right now. Like staying alive.

  “Are you planning on telling Amy about it anytime soon?” I asked. After all, she had a right to know she was getting a little sibling.

  Logan shook his head. “Not yet. Let’s get this business behind us first. There’s enough to worry about as it is.”

  I nodded in agreement. I opened my mouth to say as much when my phone rang. I answered it.

  “Hazel,” Alice said. She was hysterical. “Text me your location.”

  “What’s wrong?” I asked.

  “He attacked me.”

  My blood ran cold. “Where are you?”

  “I’m on the road. I ran the moment I got free. I’m coming to you.”

  The line disconnected and my stomach twisted in a knot of fear. I texted her my location immediately.

  “Alice was attacked,” I said, looking up at Logan. “She’s on her way here.”

  Logan’s face fell, his eyes blazing. “It’s him.” He was furious. His rage crackled in the room around us.

  “We don’t know that,” I said, trying to calm him down. “Let’s see what Alice says when she arrives.”

  Logan shook his head, pacing back and forth through the kitchen. His veins bulged under his skin, the adrenaline rushing because of his anger.

  Amy came into the kitchen wearing shorts and a T-shirt. She froze when she saw Logan. “What’s wrong?” she asked.

  I sighed. “My friend was attacked. She’s on her way.”

  “Oh, my God,” Amy said. “I’m going to put on some tea – I heard sweet is what you need for shock. “

  I nodded.

  “I swear, if I find that bastard, I’ll kill him,” Logan said. “Fuck!”

 
; “Logan,” I said, trying to calm him.

  I was worried he would scare Amy. But Amy moved around Logan with ease, as if this was a dance and she knew the steps. Maybe this anger wasn’t unusual, maybe she had seen him upset before.

  Alice arrived ten minutes later. When I opened the door for her, she fell into my arms, crying.

  “God, I kept it together until now,” she said. She trembled, shock setting in, and I led her to the living room where I pulled her down on the couch with me.

  “Here you go,” Amy said, coming in with a cup of sweet tea.

  Alice took it, almost spilling the tea because she was trembling so much. She sipped the tea, tears still wet on her cheeks.

  Amy sat down opposite us, pulling her legs up onto the couch and hugging her knees.

  “Tell me what happened,” I said.

  I noticed Logan standing in the door, leaning against the doorframe with his arms folded, the adrenaline still pumping underneath his skin – given the furious look in his eyes.

  “I don’t know who he was; I didn’t see his face. He broke into my studio where I was painting, knocked me down and tied me up. He didn’t hurt me, but he destroyed every piece of art in the studio.”

  She shuddered. I knew how sentimental art was. It was a piece of the artist’s soul on paper or whatever medium the artist chose to use. When I looked at Amy, she was pale.

  “He didn’t hurt you?” I asked.

  She shook her head. “Not at all. He was rough tying me up, but he wasn’t there to harm me. He could have killed me if he wanted to.” She sipped more of her tea. “When he was done, he turned to me and kneeled. He looked at me with these eyes – God, he had horrible eyes – and he put his face close to mine. He was wearing a mask. He said it was a message to you and Amy.”

  I frowned. “Me and Amy?” I looked at Logan before turning back to Alice. “Are you sure?”

  Amy looked terrified. She hadn’t heard about the murder; this was her first sign that the warnings weren’t empty threats.

  Alice nodded. “Very. He said it was to warn you. No more art, no more tagging. What does that mean?”

  I shook my head. “This has gotten so much bigger.”

  “Damn right it has,” Logan said, his anger exploding into the room. “This is bullshit. I’m getting out on the streets with the boys, and we’re combing L.A. until we find the son of a bitch. I want his head.”

  Amy got up and left the room, running up the stairs and slamming her door. It was too much for her to handle and Logan’s anger wasn’t helping the situation.

  “Let’s think about this,” I said.

  “There’s nothing to think about,” Logan snapped. “If this guy threatens you and my daughter, hurts your friends, he’s dead. I’ll make sure of that.”

  I shook my head. “Calm down, Logan. I know you’re mad and you have every right to be. But you’re scaring Amy, and it’s not going to go down well if you get locked up for murder, not with everything going on.”

  I was talking about the pregnancy; the baby I hadn’t told Alice about yet. I didn’t have to say it out loud for Logan to understand what I was saying.

  “Fine,” he said. He was still angry, but he was making a visible effort to calm down.

  Alice chuckled, and we both looked at her, surprised.

  “I’m sorry,” she said. “I’m probably still hysterical. This isn’t a laughing matter. But the two of you are so cute together – Logan being the protector and you being the diffuser. It’s beautiful. You guys have such chemistry.”

  I gaped at Alice. I hadn’t thought about our relationship – if that was what it was – as chemistry. I had thought it had turned from lust to necessity. I couldn’t tell what Logan thought about the observation. His anger trumped everything else, and he was pacing again, clenching and unclenching his fists, desperately looking for somewhere to channel all the built-up energy.

  “Logan,” I said. He stopped and looked at me with eyes that were as cold and icy as death itself. It wasn’t hard to figure out what he was plotting. “We’ll figure it out. We’ll be okay. We just need to take care of our own and trust that Detective Hopper will help us.”

  Alice looked at me, frowning. “You have the police involved?”

  I nodded. “We have a lot to talk about. How about you stay here for the day, and I fill you in on what’s been happening?”

  Alice agreed after Logan said he didn’t mind. I had a lot to tell her. Not just about the skulls and Christopher Maxwell, but about my career as an underground artist, my supposed relationship with Logan, and the baby. She was my best friend, it was high time she knew what I was going through.

  I was starting to realize that I had very few people in the world I could turn to, so I had to nurture the relationships I had – keep the people I cared about close. And Alice was one of them.

  Chapter Thirteen

  Logan

  I needed the girls to go to the police station. Alice had been attacked, and there was no doubt in my mind that it had been Christopher Maxwell. The fucker was running around loose on the streets, creating problems for me that could have stayed. And I wasn’t a man with a lot of patience when it came to those who screwed with me and my own.

  Alice was still worked up, and I watched Hazel as she tried to calm her friend down, to be there for her. When they disappeared into the guest bedroom, I let them go. They had to talk about things, they had to have girl time, and I needed time to calm down.

  I was so fucking angry I could kill someone. It wasn’t a metaphor either. Which was the part that scared me. The only reason I kept my men in check and didn’t do anything that could be traced back to me was because of Amy. I couldn’t afford to get locked up; I was all she had.

  The women were in the room for a long time. I heard nothing. When they finally came out again, both had been crying. I was willing to bet that Alice hadn’t been the only one to talk – Hazel would have mentioned the baby.

  “Are you alright?” I asked Hazel, taking her to the side.

  Hazel nodded. “We had some necessary bonding time. I told her about my graffiti.”

  “She didn’t know?”

  Hazel shook her head. “She knew I worked at the art gallery and that I like to do art. The graffiti – that was my secret. You were the first one to find out, with the exception of Lisa. Alice just found out.”

  I nodded. It was good to come clean. It was good that people knew what went on, so support was at hand.

  “I hate to pull you apart,” I said. “But I want to take Alice to see Earl. He can use all the help he can get, and I don’t want Alice not to say something about it.”

  Hazel agreed. “We have to get this guy.”

  When Hazel said that, I knew she meant we had to get him behind bars again. But when I said it, I meant that the guy had an overdue appointment with death.

  I got the women into my car. Amy was with us. I didn’t want her to stay home alone, not after Alice had been attacked in her studio. If something happened to Amy, there would be blood and guts all over L.A. They were quiet in the car with me, following me silently into the police station.

  Earl took Alice with him right away so he could take her statement. Hazel and I sat in the seats against the wall, waiting. I hated being in a police station. It gave me the chills. Nothing would happen to me here while Earl had a say in it, but I still wanted to get out of here as fast as I could.

  Hazel sat next to me, and she looked down. I felt bad that this was happening. I couldn’t do much more – my men were on the lookout and Earl had the police involved – but I wanted to be able to. Hazel was going through so much with the pregnancy, and whatever it was we were doing together. The last thing she needed was threats and her friends being assaulted.

  She made a phone call to a woman named Sonya. Apparently, it was a mutual friend of her and Alice. She explained briefly what happened and asked if Sonya had a place for Alice to stay.

  “She could have stayed with u
s,” I said after Hazel hung up.

  She shook her head. “It would be putting you out. I don’t want more trouble anyway. For Amy’s sake.”

  I left it at that. She was right. It was a lot to deal with, and Amy was only a kid.

  Finally, Alice finished up. I drove them to Alice’s place to pack a bag, standing sentry at the door. The women were both jumpy. When we finally headed to Sonya’s place, Hazel looked like she might cry. I knew she wouldn’t, she was stronger than that, but it had been a tough few days.