Chapter 4 Lexi
The moment Doc’s footsteps fade down the hall, a wave of relief washes over me. I look down at Ace, my little boy, clutching his teddy bear. We’re huddled together in a bedroom that shares a wall with Reaper’s—his presence is so large it feels like he could seep through the plaster.
“Momma,” Ace whispers, his eyes drooping, “I’m glad Mr. Snuffles is here.”
“Me too, baby.” I brush his hair back from his forehead, the soft curls tangling around my fingers. “Mr. Snuffles is going to watch over us tonight.”
Ace manages a tired smile before he yawns, his small chest rising and falling with the effort. “I’m really sleepy.”
“Then close your eyes and drift off,” I tell him gently, tucking a thick blue and white blanket around his shoulders. “Dream of open roads and sunshine, okay?”
He nods, snuggling deeper into the pillow, and within minutes, his breathing deepens. The sight of him, so peaceful amid chaos, ignites a fierce determination within me. We can’t stay here—not in the clubhouse with the very man I’ve spent years avoiding.
I rise carefully, making sure not to disturb Ace. My mind races with thoughts of escape, but the reality is as stark as the fluorescent lights above. I’ve got no transportation, no plan, and no energy left in my reserves. Leaving now would be reckless, dangerous even, and I can’t—I won’t—put Ace in more jeopardy than I already have.
So, we’ll wait. We’ll bide our time until the opportunity presents itself. Until then, I have to play the part. I’ll be polite and cooperative, anything to keep Reaper at arm’s length unless absolutely necessary. It’s a delicate dance on a razor’s edge, and one misstep could mean disaster. But for now, I’ll cloak myself in civility and hope it shields us both from whatever Reaper and the others might be planning.
I let out a breath, disturbing the silence. The tension in my shoulders eases just a fraction. Tomorrow will come with its own set of challenges, but tonight, I have to believe we’re safe. I’ll stand guard over my son and pray that dawn brings us closer to freedom.
As the sun descends over the mountains, I watch Ace’s chest rise and fall. Reddish light from the sunset seeps through a gap in the curtains, casting a glow over the room. Ace is asleep, clutching his teddy bear—Mr. Snuffles—like a lifeline. I can’t help but smile, relieved he didn’t fight me on his age when Doc was checking him over. The lie sits uneasily on my conscience, but it’s a necessary shield. Reaper bought the story without question, his face slack with what I swear was relief when I lied about Ace being six. In all the time we were together, Reaper never once mentioned wanting to be a father. It’s better that he never finds out the truth.
It’s like walking a tightrope, this game I’m playing. Each word measured; each glance calculated. I remember the way Reaper’s eyes narrowed ever so slightly when I spoke to Doc, as if searching for something hidden beneath my words. But all he found was the mirage I conjured—a scared mother with her young son, nothing more.
“Mommy?” Ace’s sleepy mumble pulls me back to the present. I lean down, brushing hair from his forehead.
“Shh, baby, go back to sleep,” I whisper, kissing his temple lightly. “Everything’s okay.”
He’s out again in seconds, but I’m wide awake, haunted by the ghost of Reaper’s intense gaze. I can’t trust him, a man who deals in death like it’s a currency. My heart hammers with the knowledge of what he’s capable of, what he’s done. And yet, part of me aches because the secret I’m keeping is burning a hole in my soul—the truth about Ace.
But no. That door must remain closed, barred shut with an iron will. Reaper can never know. He’s dangerous, a storm of violence waiting to be unleashed. And I won’t let my son be caught in the crossfire. No matter the connection we once shared, no matter the way my skin tingles at the memory of his touch, it’s all smoke and mirrors. A facade that hides the monster within.
Ace stirs again, and my protective instincts surge, drowning out the siren call of the past. I’ll do whatever it takes to keep him safe, even if it means lying to Reaper’s face. Even if it means locking away the truth until I can get us far, far away from Reaper and his deadly world.
“Stay asleep, little one,” I murmur against the softness of Ace’s hair. “Dream of places where the only monsters are those in storybooks, and men like Reaper are just bad dreams that fade with the morning light.”
The silence of the clubhouse is unnerving. I heard the others leave over an hour ago, but Reaper hasn’t been back to see us. I don’t even know if he’s still in the building. Every creak of the old building’s bones sets my nerves on edge, every whisper of wind against the windowpanes feels like a potential threat. But there’s another sound, softer and more deliberate. It’s a knock at the door.
“Lexi?” Reaper’s voice, low and rough as gravel, trickles through the wood. “You guys hungry?”
“No. Ace is asleep,” I call back, my voice barely above a whisper. Hunger gnaws at my stomach, but I stifle it with a lie. “I’m not hungry either.”
“Can you come out? We need to talk.” Although his tone is neutral, with Reaper, everything feels like an order.
I hesitate, caught between the urge to go to Reaper and the knowledge that any sudden movements might wake Ace. After a moment that stretches too long, I push myself up. My back protests, but I do my best to ignore it. I slip out of the room, leaving the door ajar so I can hear Ace if he wakes up.
As I step into Reaper’s room, memories slam into me like a physical force. The scent of leather and motor oil mixes with the phantom touch of his hands on my skin. My body betrays me with a shiver of want. It’s almost as if the ghosts of our past are etched into the walls, witnesses to what we once shared.
Reaper stands by the window, his back an unmovable wall of muscle. Moonlight carves shadows across his features, making him appear even more imposing than I remember. He’s the embodiment of strength and danger, and it’s impossible not to be affected by his presence.
“Lexi?” His voice breaks through my reverie, and I force my eyes to meet his. They’re black, intense, and unreadable.
“Reaper.” My voice sounds steadier than I feel.
“You okay?” he asks, and there’s a hint of something in his gaze, something that might be concern.
“Yeah, I’m fine,” I lie smoothly, tucking a stray lock of hair behind my ear, trying to look anywhere but at him. Because if I let myself get lost in those eyes, I’ll drown in the sea of what-ifs and might-have-beens had I not caught him doing the unthinkable the night I left.
“Good,” he says, though his eyes linger on mine as if searching for the truth I work so hard to bury.
We stand there, a mere few feet apart yet worlds away from each other. The tension between us is a live wire, crackling with the heat of unspoken words and buried desire. For a heartbeat, I let myself imagine what it would be like to close that distance, to feel his arms around me again. But no. That’s a path I can’t afford to walk down.
“Tomorrow I should …” I start, but the rest of the sentence dies in my throat as his gaze pins me in place. I can’t think, can’t breathe. All I can do is feel. Every inch of my skin is acutely aware of his nearness. But he’s not close enough.
“Don’t worry about that,” he murmurs. “There’s something else we need to talk about.”
There’s a rough edge to his voice that sends a shudder down my spine. He’s dangerous, lethal in ways most people never have to face. His tone reminds me that I should be careful. I swallow hard, forcing myself to remember why I can’t give in to this attraction. I have to stay strong. I brace myself because I know whatever he wants to talk about can’t be good.
“I need to ask you something, and I need you to tell me the truth.” Reaper’s voice slices through the fog in my head. His touch is surprisingly gentle as he cups my cheek, guiding my face toward his, moving me so I can’t look away.
“Ask away.” I plaster on what I hope is a convincing smile. I can’t afford to let him see the storm inside me, the terror mingled with longing.
He straightens up, releasing my face, and I’m left missing the contact more than I care to admit. “Tucker was able to get your purse out of your car.” He pauses, watching me closely.
“Did he get anything else?” I ask, trying to keep my voice steady.
“He said there wasn’t much else to save, but he’s heading back at first light to try and tow your car out of the ravine. If he manages that, you can sift through and see if there’s anything worth salvaging.”
A small flutter of hope rises in my chest, quickly followed by the stark reminder of my reality. “I didn’t have much to begin with,” I confess. “Most of what mattered I had to leave behind. There wasn’t much extra money for, well, anything really. Just the bare necessities.” My hands clench involuntarily, the weight of starting over heavy on my shoulders.
My fingers tremble slightly as Reaper extends my purse toward me. I snatch it from his grasp with a sense of urgency, clutching it against my chest like a makeshift shield. Anything to keep a layer between us. Anything to stop my hands from betraying my resolve and reaching out for the man who’s always been my most dangerous addiction.
“Thanks,” I mutter, my gaze flickering away from his intense stare. I can’t afford to get lost in those deep pools of midnight again.
Then he pulls something else from behind his back, a gleaming plastic card that reflects the dull light of the room. My breath catches as recognition dawns on me.
“This is a keycard to Jonathan Blackstone’s ranch,” Reaper states more than questions. His voice is a low growl that vibrates through the space between us. “Why do you have this?”
“I was working there. Until today.” I swallow hard, the weight of his scrutiny pinning me down.
He doesn’t say anything, just waits, his silence demanding further explanation. A part of me wants to spill everything, to let the burden of my secrets be shared if only for a moment. But I quickly shut down that foolish impulse. The less Reaper knows, the better. For both of us.
“Blackstone fired me,” I continue, forcing myself to sound nonchalant. “I forgot to give him the card back when I left. I was too busy packing my stuff. I’ll mail it to him.”
“Were you living there?” Reaper pockets the card, which I find incredibly odd. It’s my property, not his.
“Yeah, I had a room at the ranch,” I admit, feeling a fresh sting at the memory. “I was a live-in housekeeper and cook.” The words taste like ash, a bitter reminder of how quickly one’s fortunes can turn. “Some luck, huh? Fired plus a car accident in the same day.”
“That shit wasn’t an accident. I was riding behind the guy who ran you off the road. It was intentional.” His eyes darken even more than I thought possible.
A chill races down my spine despite the warmth of the small room. Someone wanted to hurt me? But why? “I don’t know who would want to …” I trail off, lost.
“What about Blackstone?” He cuts through my confusion with surgical precision.
Blackstone? I shake my head. “I don’t think … I mean, why would he want to hurt me?”
“Are you still working for him?”
“No. I told you. He fired me.”
“You’re not spying on the club for him.”
“On the club? Why would he want someone to spy on you?”
“Who else would want to hurt you?” he asks, ignoring my question.
“I don’t know.”
“Do you have any enemies?”
“No. At least, not that I know of. Blackstone was a jerk, but he doesn’t have any reason to want to hurt me. I’m sure he could replace someone like me with a single phone call.”
Reaper’s expression doesn’t change, but there’s a shift in the air. It’s clear he doesn’t believe me. I’m left with the nagging thought that the danger I fled might be closer than I ever imagined. Blackstone fired me, sure, but kill me? Why would he want to do that? None of this makes any sense.
The turmoil in Reaper’s eyes is a storm I’m not brave enough to weather. The truth about why I really left Blackstone’s ranch threatens to spill from my lips, but the rage in Reaper’s gaze stops me from saying another word.
“Why did he fire you?” he asks, finally breaking the tension.
“He didn’t like how I cleaned. Look, I’m really tired. Doc said that Ace and I need to be in bed.” When his jaw tightens and his heated gaze drops to my breasts, I shiver. I quickly correct myself, “I mean, I need to sleep. In the other room. With my son.”
Reaper’s grunt is noncommittal, a sound that rumbles deep in his chest like distant thunder. It’s the only reply I get as I edge past him. The space between us is charged with the energy of things left unsaid. His scent overwhelms me. It’s as dark and sinful as ever, an intoxicating blend of black pepper, clove, and patchouli. It’s familiar in a way that sets my skin ablaze with memories best left buried.
As I slip by, his fingers encircle my upper arm. His firm, unyielding grip sends my pulse into overdrive. There’s a silent plea in his grip, a wordless demand. He wants me—us—the way we used to be, reckless and wild and untamed.
“I can’t,” I breathe out, the words quivering in the charged air. They’re a confession, an admission of how easily I could fall back into the abyss with him. But I have too much to lose now, too much at stake. So I wrench free from his hold, the heat of his skin lingering like a phantom caress.
With one last look that sears my soul, I hurry into the other bedroom, closing the door behind me, and shutting out the tempest he embodies. Leaning against the solid wood, I draw in ragged breaths, each one tasting of desperation and the bitter tang of regret. Outside, the rumble of motorcycle engines fades into the night, but the echo of what I’ve just escaped pulses loud in my veins. I don’t know if I’ll ever be able to escape this man again.