Chapter Two
“You’re lingering tonight and that’s not like you. At least, not near my office. What’s on your mind, Grace?” Gena asked.
Grace was not used to feeling this way. This was all new, and she hated to think of her emotions as raw, but that was exactly how she felt. It was insane. “I wanted to come and apologize for earlier.”
Gena looked confused.
“The angry-looking biker,” Grace said, as a way of reminding her.
“Oh, Reaper, of course. Yes, you were incredibly rude, and it’s not something I would expect from you,” Gena said, pointing the pen she’d been using toward her.
“I wasn’t expecting ... in my experience, men like him seem to be the problem.”
Gena burst out laughing. “Oh, bless you, you’re reminding me of exactly how I reacted the first time he showed up with a beaten woman and two kids.
I saw the patch and the leather jacket, as well as that angry scowl.
The two kids that were practically wrapped around him didn’t register and I was one button away from calling the cops.
Of course, my brain finally caught up with everything I was seeing, and, well, the rest is history. ”
“He comes by often?”
“I wouldn’t say it’s often. When I need his help, no matter when or where, he’s always there.
He tries to stick to my schedule. If we’re having a problem with a couple of the husbands or partners, he’s happy to be here.
He’ll help with funding as well as security.
He’s a really good guy. I don’t know his story.
We’ve never sat down and had a heart to heart.
I know his intentions are good, and whenever I need anything, it miraculously turns up. ”
Grace took a deep breath. “So, I was completely wrong.”
“About Reaper, yes, but everyone else, that’s for you to judge.”
Grace nodded.
“I doubt he’ll harbor any ill will toward you. He’s not the type. At least, not from what I’ve seen.”
This did not make her feel any better. “Did the woman settle in, and the little girl?”
“Yes, they did, and I believe we’ve got one leaving tomorrow, but everything on that case has been handled.
” The women’s shelter was always so busy.
In rare situations they were able to get some lawyers to help do the work pro-bono to gain restraining orders, divorces, or even put the men responsible behind bars.
It was messy work, but someone had to do it.
“I better be off then. I’ll be back day after tomorrow,” Grace said.
“I’ll see you then. Do you need any help getting home?”
“Nope, nope, it’s all good.” Again, she offered a quick smile, left Gena’s office, and made her way toward the exit. The moment she left, she made sure the door was locked. She never wanted to give anyone a chance to get inside.
It was dark outside, and usually she hated walking in the dark, but she was not going to put a time limit on helping others. She did so for the memory of her sister, or maybe it was for herself, too. She wanted to be the person that could help someone else.
Cutting the pain off before it could take hold, she made her way across the street.
She lived a twenty-minute walk from her apartment to the women’s shelter.
Most of the time, the walk was pleasant, but today something felt off, and she didn’t like it.
This tended to happen whenever they had a new woman, certainly one as afraid as the one Reaper had dropped off.
She’d been hysterical, convinced she was being followed.
New admits usually only confided in Gena, and once they felt safe, they were able to open up a little more.
Grace had helped Heidi and her daughter Jane on the night they’d come in.
She’d helped her with paperwork and got her some supplies she’d need from the donation closets.
The stories were all the same, and yet completely different.
Usually, it was a nice guy who suddenly just got angry, and what started as shouting turned into a slap, and before they knew it, they were in the hospital. It was awful.
She arrived at her building and trudged up to her apartment on the third floor. Once inside, she immediately slid the bolts into the locks to keep the darkness out. She flicked on the lights, illuminating the whole apartment.
She didn’t own much, but she was only twenty-seven years old and hadn’t collected much.
Material things weren’t important to her, which was even easier when she had no free money.
Her parents were gone. The death of her sister had broken down their marriage, slowly and painfully.
It ended up sending them to an early grave.
She was the only one left. It was why she’d moved out of her small town, to the big city.
It was a chance to escape all the horrible memories there.
Memories of a sister who was never going to return, and the parents gone forever.
Also, she couldn’t keep up with her parents’ mortgage repayment.
They remortgaged the house, attempting to do whatever they could to get her sister away from those monsters.
They thought they were paying for a private investigator.
Instead, they got a crook who took all their money and didn’t help her sister once.
The only way for her to escape her parents’ crippling debt was to sell everything. All she had now were her mother’s photograph albums. The jewelry, including her mother’s engagement and wedding rings, had to go. And all the furniture. She had absolutely nothing.
Grabbing a soda from her fridge, she made her way to the only chair she had, and grabbed the photograph album she’d been looking at the previous night.
Her cat, Bob, was lying on the coffee table.
Lifting the album onto her knee, she opened it and was immediately greeted with a picture of herself, her sister, and their parents.
They were so young. She took a deep breath, exhaled it, and the tears she tried so hard to ignore came rushing back.
This was her family.
She was all that was left.
It was surreal.
The first year or so had been the hardest. She’d break down in the grocery store aisles and zone out constantly. Although, the emotions weren’t as painful now, it didn’t take much to set them off again. Especially when she was lonely.
Pressing her fingers against the picture, she wished she could go back. Rather than screaming at her sister that she hated her for being stupid enough to get hooked on drugs, she’d go back and just hug her. Hindsight was amazing.
No one ever knew the true value of time, or their last actions with someone, until it was too late.
****
The club was not the target for the latest contract, so it had no concern for Reaper. The information was not hard to find, just needed a few hours to collect it. The hit was on a mafia capo who had been caught stealing. Nothing to do with the club.
Reaper didn’t like finding Heidi’s ex, the woman he released to the women’s shelter, in the files. Gena asked him to do some digging, as a few notices had been made against the shelter, as well as a sudden hike in rental fees.
Reaper didn’t like when men used their influence over women. In fact, he would go so far as to say it pissed him off.
Heidi’s ex was a prominent judge. A Franklin Cartright. One look at the man’s picture and Reaper wasn’t happy with what he saw.
He did a quick search, and it wasn’t long before he discovered a string of relatable cases that the judge had allowed the criminals to go free. Rape cases. Battery. Assault. Even domestic violence. The judge was fucking dirty, paid off by big players.
After another quick search, he soon realized that anything relating to men versus women, the women always lost. He didn’t like this.
After gathering up his information, he left the clubhouse.
He’d already told Lord the main details of the hit.
This seemed to appease Lord, who was more than interested in getting back to his old lady.
Reaper wasn’t interested in the personal details of the club brothers who had found a woman dumb enough to settle down.
Club life was brutal. It was not for the faint of heart. They seemed happy, and although he wasn’t bitter about them finding happiness, he wasn’t interested in watching it day in and day out. At least they didn’t abuse their women.
The women he helped were the ones he was interested in.
Reaper didn’t go to the women’s shelter, he took a quick detour to the relevant owner of the building, who happened to be a wealthy businessman.
A man also connected to Heidi’s ex, and liked to spend his time in brothels.
Reaper located the brothel, paid the fee to get inside, and stepped through the door.
Multiple women were in the main foyer in many different states of undress.
The lighting was dim and tinted red, swaths of fabric covering the walls.
He never used brothels. Willing women were everywhere, and he never paid for the pleasure of sticking his dick into a pussy. However, he also made it his business to know all the brothel owners, and he signaled to Bruce at the bar that he wanted to talk to Poppy.
He took a seat, and within five minutes, Poppy, a heavy-set woman appeared. She liked to wear corsets that made her waist almost cartoonishly small and her tits bulge out. Her fake hair was curled, with different shades of pink, ranging from dark to light.
“Well, well, well, to what do I owe the pleasure of you being here?”
Poppy reached out to him a few years ago when a woman was dragged there against her will and was told to be put to work. Reaper stepped in, and the pimp was currently at the bottom of a lake with his tongue and dick removed.
Reaper pulled out a slip of paper with the businessman’s name on it. Poppy read it and groaned.
“You’re killing me, you are. You’re bad for business. Has anyone ever told you that?” Poppy said.
He rarely had to speak with Poppy, as she liked to fill the conversation between them. She let out a huff, a sigh, and then shook her head. “Fine, fine, fine. He’s on the top floor, second door on the right, and let my girls go first. They’ve seen enough damage for now.”
Poppy handed him the spare key, and he took it, making his way to the top floor. There were heavy sounds of moaning, and Reaper found the door, using his key.
The moment he entered, he saw one man and five girls. Four were standing in a line, looking bored, while another was being rammed in the ass by the man who Reaper wanted to have a word with.
“What is the fucking meaning of this?” he asked.
“Out,” Reaper said.
The girls looked ecstatic at being ordered to leave, and he wasn’t surprised. Even the one who was being used on the bed scrambled off the man’s cock and made her escape. It was sad and pathetic.
“Do you have any idea who you’re dealing with?” he asked, moving himself around the bed, with his still hard cock bobbing in the air. “I am going to talk to Poppy about this.”
“You put up the rental rates on the women’s shelter,” Reaper said.
The man sighed. “What? Do you want me to close it down as well? Like I said to Cartright, it’s a tax write-off, and it was also good for business.
I never thought it would be like a noose around my neck.
It was supposed to be good for publicity.
Useless women, who need to learn their place—in the kitchen or on their knees getting cock. ”
Reaper was a violent man. He didn’t like people.
He found over the years it was easier to be alone.
The club was the only exception to that rule.
The way the man was talking was disgusting, and he hated him on principle.
Without even realizing it, he was close to him and struck out, hitting him sharply in the nose.
In turn, the man grunted. “What the fuck? What the hell are you doing? I’m going to have you thrown in jail and you will never know a moment’s peace.”
Reaper grabbed the man’s dick hard, and began to twist it. This caused the man’s eyes to go wide, as he realized who he was dealing with.
“Your voice is irritating to me. So, stop talking. You’re going to lower the rental fee, and you’re going to give me all the information you have on Cartright.
If you don’t do as I ask, then I am going to make sure you’ll never be able to use your dick again, do I make myself clear?
” He tightened his grip, and the man grunted but fervently nodded his head. “Good.”