Page 16 of Reaper & the Lioness
I shook the thought from my mind. My company would recover. Even if we didn’t get the charter school contract, others would come along. The boycott would fade from memory, and the social media warriors would find something else to be angry about.
I didn’t need to complicate my life by allowing Eva to help.
Finally, nearly an hour later, Eva emerged with the reporter. She offered smiles and handshakes to the news crew before walking toward the southern magnolia I stood beneath.
I slipped my phone back into the pocket of my cut as I watched her approach, a strange feeling stirring in my chest.
Eva’s eyes shone bright with enthusiasm. Her work fueled her, filling her with a radiating energy. “Maisie wants to stay a bit longer. The kids adore her. She read a book aboutmotorcycles and even made her own sound effects. It was so damn cute.”
I glanced back at the building, my expression stoic. I moved to my bike, swinging a leg over and turning my baseball hat backward.
“One of the little boys even asked to try on her cut,” she added. “Then he said he wanted to be a motorcycle when he grows up.” She let out a small laugh, gazing at me as she waited for a response. I remained silent.
“She wants to offer at least one of the women a job at the bakery. She said Don would swing by in a few minutes, so you can leave.”
I nodded, pressing the ignition on my bike. The sooner I left this haunted place, with its echoes of a past I’d rather forget, the better.
“I guess I’ll talk to you at the next one?” Her tone seemed almost taunting. It was as if she wanted to push my buttons, to remind me I had no interest in being her chaperone. “Thanks for coming.”
I huffed. “My pleasure.” My voice dripped with sarcasm and dark malice that usually sent most women skittering. But instead of flinching, Eva smiled, throwing me off balance as she climbed into her Jeep.
This woman was dangerous—not because she feared me, but because she didn’t. And a part of me was starting to like it.
The dim light of the back office cast long shadows across the room as I closed the door. Dixon’s boot tapped on the floor impatiently. Thane was away, but I’d asked Dixon to meet to discuss a potential contract before Merrick hit the road.
I spread my palms across the top of Thane’s desk as I stretched my neck from side to side, my muscles still tense from the morning. “All right. You’ve been itching for a job. One just came in this morning.”
Dixon leaned forward, his eyes gleaming with excitement and desperation. He’d probably lost all his money at the casino in Livingston last weekend. “About fucking time.”
Merrick laid out a dossier, spreading a handful of pages across the clean desk. “The target is a high-profile exec in Houston. Oil company bigwig,” I explained. “Seven figures. The kill needs to be clean. This can’t be like the San Antonio fiasco last month.”
Contract killing jobs were rare but lucrative, and we had a reputation for handling contracts with discretion and efficiency. Only the club’s officers and Dixon knew about this particular “service” we offered.
Dixon broke the silence. “So, am I taking this one or what?”
Merrick and I exchanged glances. His expression was unreadable, as always. “It’s yours,” I confirmed. “The club gets twenty percent, as always. And this time, you follow the plan. No cowboy shit.”
Dixon grinned. “You got it, boss.”
“If I have to send Merrick in to unfuck this job after you make a mess, I’ll kill you myself.”
Dixon leaned back in his chair, unbothered by my threat. “Speaking of unfucking things, what’s this I hear about some PR chick sniffing around the club? Hatchet said Thane hired her as a consultant?”
Merrick’s face darkened, contrasting with the scar slashed across his cheek. “It’s a fucking mistake, if you ask me. Having some outsider poking around? It’s asking for trouble.”
I ground my teeth. “You’re not wrong. But …”
“But what?” Dixon pressed.
“She’s good at what she does,” I admitted. “I’ve been watching her work. So far, she’s sticking to what Thane wants—helping the businesses.”
Merrick’s gaze narrowed, his eyes piercing in the dim light. “And if she gets out of line? Finds out something she’s not supposed to know?”
His voice was calm, but there was an underlying tension, a sense of readiness. It was why we’d selected him to serve as our sergeant at arms.
I shrugged. “Then you know my orders. Protect the club at whatever cost necessary.”
Chapter Seven
