Page 159 of Resurfaced Passion

Right behind Archie rocked up Rider, Preacher, Lawless, Hawk, Tag and Capone. More of the boys were sat astride their bikes outside, blocking the entrance.

It was Rider who clapped Reaper on his back and spoke low. “Let Archie do what we pay him for.”

There was an eighty percent chance he would have jumped that desk and fought his way into every back room to find Paige, if not for his boys lining themselves up behind him. Tag had a strong hook on the back of Reaper’s neck talking to him quietly.

The hottest flames seemed to lick at Reaper’s nerve endings, he couldn’t unclench his fists and his jaw hurt from grinding down on his teeth.

This was absolute fucking torture.

Reaper’s brain was already five steps ahead. He had no problem going on the run with her, whatever he had to do. He’d take her back to New Zealand, his brother had a farm, no one bothered them that far out.

The moment Archie announced himself he was shown to a room out back.

Reaper’s jaw practically ground to dust.

He loathed waiting.

Thirty minutes. Forty. Sixty minutes hobbled by slowly.

The boys didn’t move an inch, inside or outside. They kept right by Reaper’s side, making nuisances of themselves, garnering side eye glances from anyone walking through the doors.

Even Charlie Timmons decided to show up and informed Rider and Reaper that Paige had volunteered to blow the whistle on her father but in turn indicated herself for drug trafficking. The charges she was facing were steep.

Fucks sake. Reaper’s skull nearly blew out of the top of his head.

“She’s done nothing wrong!” He burst from anger. Tag had to physically hook an arm around the front of Reaper’s collarbone to hold him in place. “Her father is the piece of shit. I’ll drag that motherfucker here by his front teeth. You let her fucking go or I’ll blow this place apart, Timmons!”

A few of his boys snickered but Reaper couldn’t feel any humor, not with his whole fucking world afraid somewhere in this goddamn building without him.

He’d promised her they’d be happy. He should have taken care of her father immediately; he knew it and hadn’t done anything.

And now his sweet girl was shouldering all the blame, taking on all the trouble like she always did.

He paced.

He paced so much his knees protested, and he caught a lot of sympathetic glances.

If they looked at his eyes they’d see only blackness, devoid of color.

His emotions seethed.

Death. Blood. Fury.

He felt it all.

What the fuck did it mean being part of an operation like the Renegade Souls if he was powerless to do anything to help the one person he loved beyond all reason? But then more than two hours after Archie was led away to do his lawyer thing the same door opened, and all eyes turned to see him walking back through. Reaper was about to rip his head off for doing a shit job when he saw strands of pink hair behind him.

He was already pushing his guys out of the way in his haste to get to Paige, who was doing her own rushing as she threw herself at him. He caught her around the waist, dragged her into him, almost as if he could fuse her into his skin and felt his heart start back up again.

“Reaper. Reaper.Reaper.” She cried; her head buried in his neck.

“Got you, baby. I got you.”

Overwhelmed. Relieved. He just clung onto his trembling wife and reassured her in hushed words by her ear that no one on this green earth was ever taking her away from him again.

“Are you okay?” He asked when he finally set her feet on the ground, both hands cupped her face. Dark circles marred her eyes and her shoulders slumped, but his girl was so fucking brave smiling up at him. “I’m fine. I know you’re probably mad at me.”

“I wanna spank you raw.” He growled low, foreheads together, loving her so fucking much. She smiled. Reaper thought it was Preacher who cackled the loudest.

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