Chapter 30
BLADE
It would have been so easy. I was so close to Nirvana, and I turned away. Delilah is a lady. She has been abused, and I will not add to that. The pleasure will be all hers until I earn the right, no matter how painful that is right now.
My cock throbs with anger; it’s mightily pissed at my decisions right now, but all good things come to those who wait, and I’ve waited a long time for a woman like Delilah.
Only when I’ve fought her demons, will I have earned the right to ask. It will be her choice—always her choice and as she clings behind me on my Harley as we roll into town, I am the proudest man in the fucking universe right now.
I pull up in the Crazy Skillet parking lot and cut the engine.
The sun is high in the sky today and intense on our skin.
Today will be about normality, as normal as life as a Reaper is anyway and as I help Delilah from my bike and she pulls off the helmet, my heart races as she shakes out her hair, her beautiful green eyes sparkling with happiness in the sunshine.
She is achingly beautiful, her skin a delicate shade of blush, courtesy of the unscheduled stop and the subsequent thrill of the ride. She is small, delicate, petite, and feminine. The antithesis of me and the urge to protect is the strongest I have ever felt.
I reach for her hand, mine closing around hers as a warning to anyone who attempts to take her from me. To hurt her, demean her, and cause her pain won’t ever happen again because they will have to go through me first.
We head inside and one of the usual servers, Maria, heads our way, a wry twist to her lips.
“Blade, it’s good to see you, and with a guest, I see.”
Her amused smile is probably justified because I usually only head in here with my brother or the occasional Reaper. Never a woman. Delilah is the first.
Maria’s smile is a genuine one as she directs it at Delilah.
“Welcome, honey. I’ll seat you in the booth by the window. It’s such a lovely day you don’t want to be holed up in the back.”
Delilah’s smile is like an attack on your enemies. It could disable the fiercest army, and a hint of pride blooms in my chest.
As we take our seats, I shift in beside her, crowding her space rather than taking the opposite one. It’s a protective move knowing she is shielded by me, and Maria shakes her head.
“Wouldn’t you be more comfortable opposite your guest?”
She rolls her eyes, earning a small chuckle from me and a shy grin from Delilah, who whispers, “This is perfect.”
Maria winks before handing us a menu.
“I can’t say I blame you, honey. I’d probably feel the same.”
As she heads off, I’m surprised and a little touched when Delilah’s hand finds mine and she squeezes it softy, a happy smile on her face as she leans close and whispers, “You read my mind.”
Emotion is a powerful force I never realized the effects of before.
As she smiles into my closed expression, something weakens inside me.
I possess an overpowering urge to protect this woman, to make her world a better place, and the part I’m struggling with the most is knowing I’m not worthy of a place in it.
I’m an assassin. It may be paid with government money, but I kill men for a living, and that takes a certain kind of man. Delilah deserves the American dream—I am far from that.
She leans in and kisses me softly on the lips, her breath sweet, her hand still in mine, and she whispers against my lips, “I’ll order what you’re having. For some reason, I’ve got quite an appetite.”
She pulls away and drops a sexy wink, and my balls are about to explode. Luckily, Maria heads back with coffee, and as I order two of the usuals, I attempt to stabilize my racing heart.
It turns out dining with a lady is far more pleasurable than my brother, and conversation is directed more at our surroundings and what the town has to offer. She doesn’t speak of The Rubicon. It’s an unspoken rule in public that she appears to understand before she is even told.
We eat as if we’ve always been here, an easy companionship between us that has grown since rescuing her from Rockwell. That surprises me the most, and despite wanting to know every small thing about her, I keep the conversation neutral, not wanting to run before we can walk.
I order the check and as Maria heads off, Delilah clutches my arm, her reaction to something she is seeing on the screen playing out over the counter.
It’s a news report, and the image is of a slick dude wearing a smart suit, holding the hand of a beautiful socialite.
“Blade.”
Delilah’s voice echoes shock, and I read the words running at the bottom of the screen.
Gideon Fox is to marry Tallulah Monroe, the heiress daughter of Walter Monroe, the crypto-currency king. The happy couple were hosting an intimate evening with their close family and friends prior to the huge event.
Delilah gasps, “I know her.”
I say nothing, waiting for her memories to fall into place. The way her hand is clutching mine reveals how tense this moment is.
She reaches for the glass of water, her hand shaking as she stares transfixed at the screen, and then another image of Gideon with a different woman is played, this time after their wedding.
My breath hitches as I stare at the most beautiful woman in the world. Aspen Costello. Even from here, I sense her pain. Her eyes are dull and heavy, her smile painted in a thin line, her husband gripping her arm rather than her hand, her vulnerability breaking my heart.
I read the words on the screen.
Sadly, Gideon’s first marriage was terminated when the daughter of Senator Costello was admitted to the Swiss sanatorium, Harmony Straits, after a battle with drugs.
At the time, Gideon told the world that his heart had broken as he did everything he could to save his wife, who sadly passed just four days ago.
Gideon vowed to move ahead with his second wedding, despite his grief, reaffirming his constant love for his first wife but accepting that his heart must be allowed to heal.
“I’m dead!”
The shock in her voice matches the events on the screen because this is an unexpected twist I never saw coming.
“Who’s the woman?”
My words are soft, for her ears only, and she replies, “My best friend.”
“You remember her?”
Maria approaches with the check, and I wave her away because nothing must interrupt Delilah’s memory right now.
“We grew up together. Went to the same schools, parties, and social occasions.”
“It’s good that you remember.”
She shakes her head. “I see it clearly now. She is a sweet girl; she always was, and she definitely doesn’t deserve a man like Gideon Fox in her life. This is a disaster.”
Her fist clenches and anger shakes her vocal cords. “He will destroy her. We must do something.”
My eyes narrow because not doing something isn’t the issue here. Ruining that man’s life is and by the looks of it we don’t have long to do that.
As if she can read my mind, Delilah whispers, “She’s in danger. The moment that ring hit my finger, Gideon changed. I never wanted to marry him, and I always thought it was because of the situation. We never fell in love; it was a business transaction.”
“How do you know?”
I hate the cold edge to my voice because it sounds wrong around her, but she nods as if she understands.
“It was always about power, positioning and utilizing your assets with my family. I always played the perfect daughter and did what I was told. Marrying Gideon was expected, and when I voiced my concerns, I was shut down.”
“By your parents?”
Misery hangs heavy in her eyes.
“My mom mainly. She adored Gideon. He could be very charming, and sometimes I wondered if their relationship was a little deeper than acceptable.”
Her soft sigh is filled with remorse.
“I went through the motions of the wedding, hoping it would be easier. Trusting my parent’s judgment, but that night all my nightmares came to haunt me at once.”
I glance around the diner, noting the couple a few tables away and grip her hand.
“We’ll talk outside.”
As I pull her from the booth, I toss the dollars on the table and nod to Maria, who understands, keeping her distance.
Reapers have been coming to this place since I can remember, and the staff here are used to our ways by now.
The entire town keeps its distance because of our reputation that we have curated well over the years.
It’s best they fear us. They would if they realized exactly what our role is.
A dirty biker gang is the banner we live under; trained military assassins is our code of conduct.
As we pass the screen, I flick my darkened gaze to the images, and as it pans back to the happy couple, hatred forms a ball of retribution in my heart.