Page 1 of Reaper and Abby

1

Reaper

If someone asked me at the start of my day where I’d be tonight, I would have come up with a lot of possibilities- like; dealing with my son, who thought it was a great idea to spray paint a police car with ‘fuck the police’. He may have got away with it too, if it wasn’t for the very detailed Satan’s Sons crest next to it- which he had perfected over time. Because this wasn’t the first time he was spray painting the club’s logo on police property.

Then there was Eve, and Hannah, who had just got suspended from Saint Christian’s private high school. First week- both suspended. When I heard this, I knew they were definitely my girls. It was for wearing club supportive clothing.

It would seem all my three children had the ability to be creative when it came to breaking the law and getting into trouble.

Then there was Abby.

I was waiting for her to crack. The stress she was under, the responsibilities she was taking on. I was waiting for the phone call with her in tears. Still, every day she proved to me, there was nothing she couldn’t take.

If someone told me that twins could basically- nearly feel and think what the other does, I’d say you’re fucking lying and smoking weed. But I saw it on Abby’s face. When Kim was diagnosed, it automatically affected Abby’s life.

Fuck. The doctor might as well have been telling my wife she had cancer, cause Abby went through whatever Kim went through. So when Kim was diagnosed with breast cancer. It was a chain reaction to Abby.

Since Kim went into remission. Abby was coping slightly better. I’d been so busy with the club that I hadn’t really seen Abby. So I didn’t know how sure she was coping better.

I knew it was a dick move on my behalf, but club business was stacking up. To the point Brad couldn’t handle it anymore. So I threw myself back into the club, thinking if I spent a few good days organizing shit and pulling other presidents back into line. Then I could give my family more attention.

Those few good days I planned on putting into the club turned into a month of dealing with crap. Before I knew it. I had barely seen Abby. I wasn’t even making it back home to sleep. I knew she would be thinking the worst of me, abandoning her when she needed me.

But I was just trying to focus on the club, put it in a good place, so I could give Abby the attention and my family the attention they deserved.

Instead, shit backfired in my face, and I was here.

At a strip club. The last place I wanted to fucking be. Seriously I get a spare hour and I end up being forced to come here? By whom I wasn’t even sure yet! I was just directed to a private room. I was assuming it was a meeting with Cal, an international drug dealer who had a fucking serious case of paranoia.

I understood why he would want to meet here. Club owned the strippers, had control over the cameras and there wasn’t a shit load of men, carrying, ready to fight at my command. So I understood why he would want me here. Fewer men, less chance of shit getting nasty if he was backing out of my deal.

I swear if the words we should part ways come out of his fucking mouth, he will be regretting it. Because the reality was, I didn’t need a shit load of men behind me to get the dirty deeds done. I did the deeds on my own. I’ll be the one slowly choking the life from his lungs if he has wasted months of my time setting this up and backing out in one of my strip clubs.

I was following Missy, who was the woman who left a message on my phone for this meeting. Fuck, it was after eleven. I really had planned on being home in time to see Abby tonight. I wanted to fuck my wife tonight and then fall asleep with her, as pathetic as it was. door. That was my current fantasy. I just wanted my wife.

“Here you go Reaper,” Missy opened the door, I was still trying to decide on what reason to tell Abby tonight why I won’t be home in time.

“Thanks Missy.” I looked up from my phone, scanning the room. Wait, a fucking second. My head whipped back to Missy. “Why did Cal set up a meeting in the pent suite?” Last time I checked, no conversation regarding drugs needed a suite with a runway, leading straight to the bed.

Missy’s lips twitched up just slightly. “We heard you’ve been stressed, so we have booked you up with one of our best girls.” Then, before I could say anything, she closed the door.

What. The. Fuck.

Then reality of this situation hit me fucking hard. I was in a strip club, in a private suite with a bed and a whore about to strip. It was when the music started slowly.

I snapped, my hand went quick to the door handle.

Abby was understanding. Hell, she was the most understanding woman I knew when it came to what club life was like. But I was faithful to my wife. No woman could tempt me to be unfaithful to Abby.

I tried to open the door again. The bloody bitch had locked the door. Fuck. I was stuck in here. How was it possible that a meeting with Cal didn’t scare me, but the thought of being found in a locked room with a stripper scared the fucking shit out of me?

Abby was my gravity. I didn’t need to cross a line to know what will happen. I didn’t need to stick my hand in a fire to find out you get three-degree burns. So I wasn’t even fucking tempted to look behind me when I heard her heels.

She could be fucking high class as they come, hell she could be an eighteen-year-old virgin. I still wouldn’t be interested.

Shit. How do I explain this to Abby? Someone had put Missy up to this, which meant another person knew I was here- so it could get back to Abby. Fuck it I’ll just call her, explain to her I’ve been locked in a room with a stripper and had nothing to do with it.

I scoffed, running my hand through my longer than normal hair. Yeah, she isn’t going to believe that. No woman would- not even Abby, who is extremely understanding at the best of times. Hell, I don’t even let men near her.

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