Page 70 of Reaper & the Lioness
Hatchet’s teeth gleamed in the dim light as he showed his most menacing smile. “Next time, Merrick is keeping watch.”
“When it comes to Eva, there’d better not be a next time."
We worked in silence as we cleaned up. I hauled Matt’s broken body to the incinerator. The metallic tang of blood and death clung to my skin and clothes.
Merrick methodically scrubbed the tools with bleach. The sharp chemical stench burned my nostrils.
I grabbed a fresh change of clothes from my bike and slipped into the admin building’s shower to scrub away the blood and sweat until my skin burned. I tossed my flannel and jeans, splattered with evidence, into the fire. The flames licked them clean of any trace of my connection to Matt’s death. As we finished, the sun rose over the horizon.
I offered a smile to my brothers. Words weren’t needed, because the same grim satisfaction reflected in their eyes.
A sense of peace washed over me as I swung my leg over my bike. Now, I could focus on the future. Our future.
I revved the engine and sped down the road toward the cabin. An overwhelming need to protect Eva, to keep her safe from any threat, big or small, surged through me. I’d die before I let anything happen to her. She belonged to me to protect, to cherish; I’d kill again if necessary to keep her safe.
And I knew what that meant. It was time to offer her my patch. It was the highest commitment I could give her. It would mean fully bringing her into my world, with all its dangers and complexities.
But it would also mean protection, respect, and a spot by my side no one could question. It would mark her as mine in the eyes of the club and our rivals. And as Thane prepared me to move into the role of president someday, I needed to be sure she was ready for what that meant.
Yet I still hesitated. I felt torn between my desire to claim her and my respect for her autonomy. Eva was fiercely independent. How would she react to the idea of wearing a cut labeling her as my “property?” I winced at the imagined conversation as I heard her voice in my mind.
“Property? I’m not a piece of real estate,” she would likely say.
The patch would keep her safe and make her untouchable to our enemies. But at what cost to her sense of self? Would she view it as protection or a prison?
Maybe I was overthinking. She’d faced down threats with a steel spine. Perhaps she’d embrace the patch for what it truly meant—not a mark of ownership, but a symbol of partnership, of her place with me and the Mavericks.
Or maybe she’d laugh in my face and tell me where to shove our outdated ideas of possession.
Chapter Twenty-Nine
Reaper hovered for a week, treating me like I couldn’t do anything myself. Even though there was no longer a threat to my life, he barely left my side. He spent most of the day poring over blueprints on the counter and barking orders over the phone to his employees and subcontractors. The handful of times he needed to leave for a few hours, Rhetta mysteriously showed up with a new movie to watch or a bottle of wine.
“You need to chill the fuck out,” I said after the thousandth time he insisted he do something for me I could manage myself. “I’m not made of glass. You know better than anyone that I am tough as hell.”
He also had utterly refused to have sex with me, worried about how to maneuver around my bruised ribs and battered face. At this point, my injuries appeared more painful than they felt.
“I’m going crazy. Let’s go somewhere,” I begged. “Any-fucking-where.”
Reaper finished sending a text before wrapping his arms around me and kissing my head. “Fine. I’ve been wanting to show you something anyway. Grab your jacket. We’ll take the bike.”
The air whipped through my hair as I wrapped my arms around his waist, the memories of our first ride flashing through my mind. I reached down, stroking his thigh like I had that first night, and giggled as he tensed.
For a while, we rode nowhere in particular—just enjoying the freedom of the road and the roar of his bike.
He slowed as we pulled onto a dead-end gravel road, turning down a long, winding driveway. At the end sat a beautiful mid-century home with a work trailer beside it, the Grimm Construction logo emblazoned across the side.
“Whoever owns this house is lucky,” I commented, admiring the wraparound cedar porch and blooming crocuses.
He grinned at me. “I own it. I buy a house or two every year to flip. I’ve been working on this one for the past few months, and it’s almost done. Just needs a fresh coat of paint, a refinish on the wood floors, and some new carpeting.”
He ushered me inside, and I twirled in a slow circle as I took it all in. A spiral staircase stood to the right. In the middle of the open-concept living room sat a double-sided stone fireplace. The kitchen, bright with gleaming stainless-steel appliances, featured an island slab longer than the entire kitchen in the house I owned.
Reaper swept me over with a nervous gaze. “Even though you’re safe now, I don’t want you to move out. I want you to move in with me, but the cabin is small. We could make this our home. Or we could sell it, and I could build you the home of your dreams. Whatever you want.”
I smiled, wrapping my arms around him. “My home is anywhere with you. I would love to build our life together here.”
Reaper pressed a kiss to my lips. “Good. This is the perfect place for a family. Five bedrooms, three full baths, and a home theater.”
