Reaper (Valhalla Rising MC #3)

8. Kyra

8

Kyra

A ll eyes are on me, and I swallow past the lump of… what? It’s not fear. The man and his friends did just save my life, after all. Adrenaline, then?

Yeah, adrenaline. That’s what I’m going with.

“Yes, we.”

His voice melts over me like hot butter, cauterizing my frayed nerves. I have no clue who he and his friends are, but I’d be lying if I said I’m not grateful they’re here.

Sirens wail in the distance, snapping me out of my stupor, and I shake my head to clear my thoughts. Within seconds, an unmarked car with flashing lights pulls into the parking lot.

I walk toward the door to greet them but am quickly diverted by strong hands grasping my forearms and guiding me to a stool at the counter.

“Let us handle this,” he orders.

Jenny and I exchange a look, and she shrugs. “I’m good with it, boss. I gotta get going anyway.”

“Yeah, you’re not going anywhere,” one of the other guys says. “They’re gonna want to question you.”

“Not if they don’t know I’m here,” she says as she makes her way to the hallway and disappears just as the cops step inside.

“Remind me to fire her,” I mutter.

“Oh, I will.” My rescuer leans close to me. “I’m Craig, by the way. But my friends call me Reaper.”

I open my mouth to make a comment about how his nickname is appropriate considering he just killed a man, but the cops take over the crime scene— Great, I’m now the proud owner of a crime scene —and for the next few hours, Craig takes the lead in responding to questions.

It crosses my mind to correct him when he tells the cops that it seemed like the attackers were just college kids blowing off some steam, but I end up keeping my mouth shut. It certainly doesn’t hurt that the dead guy appears to be in his early twenties, so the police believe everything they’re told.

After the body has been collected and we’re given reassurances that we’ll be kept informed as the investigation progresses, the officers leave. And without me asking, Craig’s friends begin to clean up.

“Why don’t you just relax, and we’ll take care of the mess?” he suggests.

Shaking my head, I reply, “There’s no way I can relax. I’ll help.”

“So, what makes you think they were hired?” Craig asks after a few minutes.

“I don’t know,” I say with a shrug. “Just the way he talked about money, I guess.”

“Any reason to believe someone would have hired them? Any enemies?”

“Not that I can think of.”

That’s not entirely true. Jason is likely pretty pissed at me right now for not giving him money, but he wouldn’t do something so stupid. Especially because he knows the twins are here sometimes.

“What about Barry? Anyone not like him?”

A very unladylike snort escapes. “Barry is, uh, an acquired taste. He can be a dick, but nothing that would provoke… this,” I say, sweeping my hand to indicate the destruction.

“Then we’re back to square one,” one of the other men says as he steps up to me and stretches to shake my hand. “Name’s Inferno.”

I dart my eyes from Craig—Reaper— to Inferno and back again. “Inferno and Reaper. Those are odd nicknames. Next you’re gonna tell me that they’re Volcano, Hurricane, Tornado, and God,” I say with a nervous chuckle.

“Nope. They’re Viking, Acid, Demo, and Grump,” Inferno replies with a grin.

“And they’re road names,” Reaper adds, pointing to his leather vest. “We’re in a motorcycle club.”

“Like that show?”

Reaper’s forehead wrinkles. “Show?”

“Yeah, um…” I snap my fingers as I try to come up with the name. “Oh, um… Sons of Anarchy.”

“Right. Yeah. Like that.”

A thought occurs to me, and I take a step back. “If that’s true, then it could’ve been you that set this all up.”

Reaper narrows his eyes, and I swear there’s a hint of hurt in the green depths. “Because we’d never do something like this to someone like you.”

“Someone like me?”

“Brother, you’re fucking this up,” the one known as Viking says as he joins us. He turns his attention to me and smiles. “We had nothing to do with what happened here. Right time, right place. That’s it.”

Too tired to argue and reminding myself that they did save me and my business, I simply nod. “Okay. Well, thanks. I’m glad you showed up when you did.”

“If you really wanna thank us, we could use some grub.”

I laugh nervously and lean the broom in my hand against the counter. “I think I can handle that. Burgers and fries work for all of you?”

“Sounds great,” Reaper says.

I head into the kitchen and get to work. Fortunately, there’s no damage back here. It’d cost me a fortune to replace kitchen equipment. As it stands, I have no clue how I’m going to repair what was done in the dining area, not to mention get the blood stains off the floor behind the counter.

Life just keeps getting better and better.