Chapter Sixteen
June
Miraculously, I fall asleep after Theo leaves. But it doesn’t last long, and my eyes fly open at five a.m. I rub my legs together and nearly moan at the warm need pulsing between my thighs.
My first thought is Shit, did I just have a sex dream about Theo?
My second thought is FUCK, did I let Theo finger fuck me last night?
My third, and loudest, thought is, I was almost caught last night. How did the cops know I was there?
I might understand if the police somehow knew I was trailing a target, but Burrows was a backup.
It’s been three years since he was fired from that high school, and I barely followed him at all before last night.
He might’ve been under surveillance for a different reason, but then the cops would’ve already been outside his house when I arrived, right?
There’s only one thing that makes sense. Theo was involved. How else would he have known where I was and that the cops were on their way?
But why would he call the cops then risk himself to save me? Was it some delusional attempt to earn my trust?
It kind of worked, since you let him finger you, I think.
Then I banish the thought. My adrenaline was through the roof last night, so I was already aroused and the logical side of my brain was taking a nap.
Letting him get me off means nothing. I only woke up wet and wanting him again because it’s been a while since I’ve had decent sex, and Theo happens to be great at getting women off.
He should be, with how many people he’s fucked.
I tell myself it’s a natural reaction, even as my hand travels down my body under the covers.
It’s normal to still be aroused after excess adrenaline.
My eyes flutter shut, and my fingers lift the band of my underwear.
I rub my clit and bite my tongue, pushing my hips up.
An image of Theo leaning over me, keeping me immobile with a hand on my hip as he has his way with me, fills my mind.
Turning my head into the pillow, I bite the corner, muffling a gasp as I pick up the pace.
There’s a twinge of pain when I move my fingers to push into my opening, which serves as a reminder of Theo roughly shoving three fingers inside a few hours ago.
I finish to the memory of Theo licking his fingers clean.
Then logic returns, and I groan, throwing the blanket off.
I head to the bathroom to wash my hands and brush my teeth.
My hair is tangled, and the circles under my eyes are prominent.
Deciding I need to wash everything from yesterday away, I lock the bathroom door and turn the shower to the hottest possible temperature.
By the time I feel clean enough to turn the water off and get dressed, it’s nearly seven, so I’m unsurprised to find an empty coffee pot in the quiet kitchen.
I hadn’t realized until now that there’s always been coffee waiting for me in the morning, and it takes ten minutes before I find the bag of grounds in the freezer.
“Who the fuck keeps coffee in the freezer,” I mutter, measuring out enough scoops for at least four cups.
“People who get already-ground coffee as gifts from idiots who don’t realize good coffee starts going bad after you grind it.”
I whip around, heart jumping at the unexpected response. James is standing a few feet away, scowling. There’s a bruise on his cheekbone that wasn’t there yesterday and a split in the middle of his top lip.
“Shit!” I whisper. “What are you doing awake so early?”
“Could ask you the same thing, Ms. I-Take-Hour-Long-Showers-At-The-Ass-Crack-Of-Dawn.”
Right, his room is on the other side of the bathroom we share. Oops.
He passes close by on his way to the fridge, and the bruising on his cheek is even more evident.
“What the hell happened to your face?”
“Had a late fight last night. I was distracted, so he got in more hits than he should’ve.”
I’d nearly forgotten that James occasionally participates in underground fights. I watched one in November while I was following Theo, and he beat his opponent unconscious in less than five minutes.
“Why were you distracted?” I ask, unease turning my stomach.
James shuts the fridge door and turns back around. He twirls a plum in his hand and presses his lips together. “Family stuff.”
Instinctively, I think back to my research on James. All I really know is his dad passed the role as the Saints leader to Theo instead of him. I’ve wondered why James didn’t take over, but I doubt that’s what’s bothering him now. I don’t believe he’ll tell me what is.
So, instead, I ask, “Did Theo tell you what happened last night?”
His eyebrows raise. “What happened, little reaper? ”
My cheeks flush, but James wasn’t here when Theo and I got back, and that’s not what I’m referring to anyway.
“So, no?”
He takes a bite of his plum and shakes his head. “Got back late, T was already asleep.”
“Oh, okay.”
“But I remember he left the clubhouse abruptly. Didn’t tell anyone where he was going. I’d bet anything that has to do with you.”
“It doesn’t matter.”
“It matters as long as it affects my brother,” James says, an uncharacteristic edge to his words.
“Then ask your brother, ” I say, turning back to the coffee maker.
It’s not finished, but there’s enough to fill a mug, so I pull it free and ignore the hiss when a splash hits the exposed hot plate.
I walk out the front door, holding the full mug close to my chin.
Not wanting to deal with another fight once Theo wakes up, I drop onto one of the porch chairs, even though I’d love to go on a morning walk.
Taking advantage of the peace and quiet, I open my phone, which I’d retrieved from his bike last night, and start replying to messages, making sure to give the girls a long—and false—update.
I say I went back home after Taco Tuesday and spent the entire time there before returning to Theo’s last night, since I missed a call from Evelyn while I was at the clubhouse.
Then I launch Google and scroll through local news.
I want to search Burrows’s name, but I resist in case I can be placed at his house last night.
I don’t want to give the police any reason to connect me to him.
I last fifteen minutes before giving in to frustration and searching “Keith Burrows.”
The most recent article is about him being found innocent two years ago. Nothing from last night. Nothing about the cops going to his house or him reporting a break-in or assault.
“What the fuck?” There should be something about why the cops were sent to his house. Even if it’s a false alarm. Burrows has been in the news before, so any report would at least mention him. But there’s shit all.
Did Theo lie? Maybe the sirens weren’t for him after all. Maybe it was a coincidence, and the police were going somewhere unrelated.
If that’s the case, then Theo stopped me for no fucking reason.
Then dragged me back to this fucking house to take advantage of my body’s natural arousal from the adrenaline.
“FUCK.”
Coffee sloshes over the edge of the mug when I slam it onto the table and jump up. I storm inside, through the now-empty kitchen, and to Theo’s room. I don’t bother knocking, just throw open the door and step inside.
His bedroom is nearly three times the size of mine. His bed is in the center, and I’m pretty sure it’s a California King. Despite being the only one who sleeps in it, Theo is firmly on the left side, leaving the right open.
At my loud entrance, he jerks awake and seems to naturally grab a gun from behind his bedside table. He already has the weapon aimed toward the door before he registers who I am with a few blinks. He lowers the gun and drops his arms to the side. “Reaper,” he says with an impressively level voice.
“What the fuck did you do?” I demand, stopping inches from the foot of his bed. Dimly, I register that the rug beneath my feet is incredibly soft and the whole room looks meticulously organized.
“You’ll have to be more specific.”
“Last night!”
Theo smirks and returns the gun to its hidden spot. “If you want me between your legs again, just ask.”
“At Burrows’s!” I clarify, refusing to let him distract me from the anger. “Those cops weren’t headed to his house at all, were they?”
His lips drop into a frown. “Pretty sure they were.”
“ Why? ”
“Typically, when police believe—”
“Why do you think they were going there?” I interrupt. “How did you know?”
“That doesn’t matter.”
“Yes, it fucking does. There’s nothing in the news about Burrows being arrested or found tied to his chair. Which means the cops were never there.”
“Or they just didn’t tell the media.”
“That kind of shit always ends up in the news. Journalists religiously listen to their police scanners.”
“Maybe they didn’t talk about it over their radios.”
“Then how would you have known about it?” Before he can reply, I add, “Tell me the truth, Theo! Either you had some inside knowledge, or you lied to me and stopped me for no fucking reason.”
“I wouldn’t do that.”
“Because controlling me is so out of character for you?”
“This isn’t the same, and you know that!” Theo says, finally climbing out of bed. I carefully don’t look below his face, where he’s wearing nothing but boxer briefs. “Haven’t I made it clear that I want to help you with your… needs , not smother them?”
Something curls in my gut at the way he says ‘needs’ and how he steps close enough for his natural scent of coffee, gas, and an unidentifiable smell that is so noticeably Theo to reach my nose.
“Then explain what’s going on. How did you know the cops were on their way? Why were they going to Burrows’s? Why did you show up?”
“God, June!” he yells. “Do you ever just shut the fuck up and say, ‘thank you’?”
Before I can think better of it, I slap him.
His neck turns with the force, and there’s a breath during which I know I made a mistake, and fury fills his eyes.
Then the next second, his hand wraps around my throat and pushes forward until my back is against the wall.
He presses so close that his hot breath brushes my face.
I claw at his hand on my throat, but he doesn’t budge.
His fingers tighten enough to keep me in place but not enough to cut off airflow.
“You just have to provoke me, don’t you?” His voice is low, but he’s close enough for every word to be audible. “Just because I haven’t hurt you yet doesn’t mean I can’t or won’t.”
I clench my thighs together, silently cursing my body for the way his hand on my throat and his words fill me with desire, not anger or fear.
Even worse, Theo is so close to me that he doesn’t miss the movement or the way my breath hitches.
“And I’m pretty sure you’d like that, wouldn’t you, little reaper? I bet if I tied you up and punished you the way you deserve, you’d be begging for my cock in no time.”
“Fuck you,” I snap.
Theo tightens his hand, fully cutting off my air. “Keep saying that, and one day I will.” He leans closer, and I struggle against him, gasping for a breath I won’t get with him choking me like this. “You might be the reaper, but I haven’t been afraid of death in a long time.”
The next second, his hand is gone, and he steps back, giving me room to double forward, coughing and sucking in air.
“I’m not like every other monster you hunt, little reaper. Don’t forget that.”
By the time I can stand, no longer lightheaded, Theo is gone.