Chapter 5 Reaper
REAPER
Ilift my hand to the apartment door and then drop it again, sighing in frustration before continuing my pacing. I’ve been outside of Lynx’s new apartment for a solid fifteen minutes, trying to figure out what to do with myself.
My initial thought was to walk Lynx to work, but now that I’m here, I’m not sure it was a good idea.
What if she doesn’t want to see me? What if she feels like I’m violating her space?
Another, darker possibility seeps into my brain.
What if she ran away in the middle of the night?
That last thought has me pounding my fist on the door.
It swings open a second later, revealing a freshly showered Lynx.
Her midnight black hair is damp, the ends curling ever so slightly, and her freckles seem to sparkle in the morning light.
Big, bright green eyes shine up at me, paired with a radiant smile that’s actually genuine today.
I’ve never seen her quite like this, like she doesn’t need all of her defenses and deflections.
“Good morning!” she greets.
I can’t seem to look away from her face, cataloging every single detail and committing it to memory.
I’ve been doing my best to ignore Lynx and brush her off at every chance for the past week, but now that I’ve actually given myself permission to appreciate her beauty… I can’t seem to do anything else.
We walk side-by-side, and I make a concentrated effort to match her pace.
She’s so much shorter than I am, and I’m sure her knee is still sore from yesterday.
Lynx pauses to pluck a dandelion growing through a crack in the pavement.
Twirling the small yellow flower in her hand, she gets a wistful look in her green eyes, followed by a soft smile.
“You like dandelions?” I ask. Most people consider them weeds and seek to eradicate them from their property. I don’t think I’ve ever actually stopped to study dandelions. Looking at the buttery, yellow petals and jagged leaves, I feel like I’m discovering them for the first time again.
“They’re often overlooked and trampled on,” Lynx says, her voice hardly above a whisper. I lean in so I can hear her better. “But I think their resilience is beautiful.”
I’m not sure if we’re talking about the flower anymore or Lynx herself. From what little I know about her past, there’s no doubt that she’s had to be resilient. I don’t think she knows her own beauty or strength quite yet, and I have the overwhelming urge to be the one who shows her.
We make it to the repair shop a few minutes later, and I unlock the door for us. Lynx is eager to get started and prove her worth, immediately fixing a pot of coffee. I nod my thanks, and she hands me a mug. I’m pleasantly surprised that it smells like rich, earthy coffee and not horse piss.
“Keep up the good work,” I tell her before slipping into the garage to check on our current projects. I don’t have to look over my shoulder to know she’s grinning from ear to ear at my praise.
I shove down thoughts of praising her in other ways, willing my goddamn libido to calm down. Lynx is proving to be lethal for my self-control, which is worrisome since she’ll be around a lot more.
Looking for an escape from my inner monologue, I get lost tinkering around with one of our antique motorcycle restorations.
I only snap out of my concentration when the back door to the garage swings open with a slam.
Shadow, the top enforcer for the MC, walks inside, tilting his chin up in greeting when he sees me.
“Yo, Prez. Did you know there’s a chick behind the counter?”
“She’s not some chick,” I tell him with a little more force than necessary. The look of surprise on Shadow’s face is worth it. “Her name is Lynx. She’s the new secretary.”
Shadow furrows his eyebrows, and I know he wants to ask further questions. Being the good man that he is, Shadow doesn’t say anything else. He knows there’s no point in pushing back once I’ve made a decision.
Our Enforcer updates me on the latest news with Sons of Destruction and their auction house.
We finally had a break in the case last night and found out where they’re holding the next auction, just not the date and time.
It’s coming up soon, but I’m not sure we have enough intel to obliterate all of our enemies just yet.
That’s why I’m sending Shadow and a few other men to stake out the place and learn everything they can.
We have exactly one shot to make this happen, and I don’t want to fuck it up.
We shake hands, and I tell Shadow to gather the supplies and men he needs to complete his mission. Looking at the clock hanging above one of the garage doors, I see it’s been several hours since I’ve checked in with Lynx.
She definitely is a quick learner, just like she said. I showed her our booking software yesterday afternoon, and she created a workflow that completely overhauled the old, clunky system we’ve had in place since before I took over.
I quietly step into the lobby, looking around for the object of my obsession. She’s straightening a stack of magazines in the corner, and I lean against the wall, taking a moment to appreciate her curvy figure in the late morning light.
Lynx stares out the big display window, wrapping her arms around herself as the sunlight kisses her cheeks and nose. She still hasn’t noticed me, so I take a few more moments to study everything about her, from her button nose all the way down to her ratty Converse shoes, and everything in between.
Suddenly, she gaps and widens her eyes, stumbling away from the window and dropping to the floor for cover. I race toward her, not sure what happened. Lynx folds herself into a ball, trying to be as small as possible. It breaks my fucking heart.
I look at the window, but I don’t see anything that could be a threat. Larry, the hardware store owner, is sweeping his sidewalk across the street, but that’s it. I don’t see why Lynx would be afraid of a middle-aged man with a potbelly and thinning salt and pepper hair.
“Lynx?” I ask as I sit beside her on the floor. “Lynx, you’re safe here.”
She mumbles something, but I can’t hear it from where her head is buried in her arms.
“No one’s going to hurt you,” I say softly. “You’re safe here, remember?”
Lynx uncurls herself from her uncomfortable position on the floor, looking around the lobby and then outside. “I thought I saw him,” she murmurs.
Her voice is shaky, and her eyes shine with unshaded tears. It’s the same distant, panicked look she had when I found her in the truck yesterday. Whoever she thinks she saw was most definitely responsible for the bruises and scars littered across her delicate skin.
“Let’s get you to the back room,” I offer, holding out my hand once I’m standing. The trembling woman in front of me glances out the window, then at my hand, and then finally rests her eyes on mine. I silently beg her to trust me, which is another first.
After what feels like an eternity, Lynx finally nods and slips her much smaller hand into mine. I pull her up and wrap an arm around her waist, half-walking, half-carrying her down the hall.
By the time we reach the couch in my office, Lynx is nearly hyperventilating.
I grab a water bottle and kneel in front of her, much like I did yesterday.
Her chest rises and falls with shallow breaths while her clouded, unfocused eyes dart around the room.
She’s looking for a possible threat while also making note of the exits.
How many times did I do the same thing when I lived on the streets before going into juvie? ?
“Breathe for me, beautiful,” I murmur, rubbing a hand up and down her forearm to get her attention.
Lynx flips her hand over, her fingers wrapping around my wrist in a tight hold. At first, I think she’s telling me to back off. But then her fingernails dig into my skin, and I realize she’s holding on to me as an anchor in the tempest of emotion and adrenaline roaring through her.
“I’ve got you,” I whisper. “I’m right here, okay?”
Tears stream down her lovely face as she struggles to return from whatever nightmare she was trapped in. “Reaper?” she chokes out, recognition slowly overtaking her features.
“That’s right,” I confirm. “You’re safe. Now, take a deep breath, dandelion. You’re going to pass out on me.”
I gently unwrap her fingers from their death-grip around my wrist, guiding her hand to my chest, right over my heart.
Lynx presses her hand further against me, as if to prove I’m real.
Slowly, so damn slowly, I cup my hands around the sides of her neck in a gentle, barely-there hold.
My thumbs stroke her jawline, and she relaxes, unclenching her jaw and dropping her shoulders with each soft, steady movement.
“That’s it, Lynx. Just focus on even breaths and relaxing your muscles.”
The panic fades with each inhale, and she lets go a little more with each exhale. Finally, my girl blinks a few times, coming back to her body. I drop my hands from her neck and rest them on her thighs. I can’t seem to stop touching her in some way.
“I… I’m sorry,” she says, her voice scratchy from crying. “I just… I just…”
Lynx is trying to come up with a cover story for her panic attack, but she’s too exhausted. I see the moment she lets go of the pretense, the pride, and the fierce independence that only comes from surviving trauma.
“I thought I saw my dad,” Lynx admits. “He’s… not a good man.” She fidgets with her hands, then balls them into fists, her fingernails digging into her palms. I cover both of her hands with my much larger one, giving them a gentle squeeze.
“Thank you for telling me,” I reply, meaning every word.
It’s not much, but it’s a tiny piece of her story.
Rage burns through me at the thought of her father laying hands on her and making her so afraid that even the sight of him sends her into a panic spiral.
“Lynx, I’d like for you to stay with me.
Just for a little bit,” I add when her eyes widen in surprise.
“My house isn’t far from here. You’ll have your own room with a lock on the door so you can keep me out. ”
She blinks a few times, her lips twisted to one side as she considers my offer. “But… why?”
At least she’s not outright refusing. She must be more afraid for her life than I thought. “Because I have a feeling you and your father have unfinished business, am I correct?”
Lynx nods, then bows her head in shame. I hook my forefinger under her chin, tilting her head up to meet my gaze.
“If he comes around again, I’ll be the one to finish it.” A soft gasp falls from her lips, those heart-wrenching green eyes slicing me open so she can examine my heart and soul. “Do you trust me, Lynx?”
“Yes.” Her response is immediate, which makes me want to pound my fist against my chest in victory. I didn’t know her trust meant that much to me, but now that I have it, I vow to cherish it forever.
I stand and offer her my hand. Lynx takes it, letting me pull her to her feet.
I brush the last of her tears away, her smooth skin in such contrast to my scarred and calloused hands.
“Thank you, beautiful.” My lips press against her forehead, and I breathe in her addictive scent.
She smells like sugar and some exotic flower.
Without another word, I lead Lynx through a back door to the parking lot. We walked here today, but I don’t want to spend that much time out in the open. If Lynx is scared, I’m sure she doesn’t want to be exposed, either.
When we get outside, I send a quick text to one of my mechanics, letting him know a situation came up and I’m taking one of the spare bikes.
Turning back to my beautiful girl, I grab the helmet hanging from the handlebars and place it on her head.
The damn thing is far too loose, but I do my best to strap her in securely.
She’s fuckin’ adorable, but it’s not nearly as safe as it should be.
I make a note to get Lynx her own riding gear.
“Have you ever been on a motorcycle?”