Page 27 of The Reaper
Her eyes told me what her words couldn’t; she wanted to see me, that’s why she was here. Her rapid breaths told me even more; she liked being in my arms.
“Is Jodie here? Did you come with her?” I asked, but what I really wanted to say was, if you’re lonely or you need my help, just ask. I need words. I’m not the best mind reader.
“No. Jodie doesn’t know I’m here.”
I sighed, toying with my inner demons that screamed at me, telling me she wasn’t mine. I had no right to tell her what to do. If she wanted to have a night out, it was none of my fucking business. And yet, I was still pissed because I wanted her to listen and do as she was told. I wanted to know what was going on in her head. I wanted to know everything.
“Look, this place is as safe as we make it, but I can’t protect you. Not all the time. Especially when you pull shit like this.”
“Like what?” she challenged, her chin lifting defiantly.
“Coming out on your own.”
She huffed and shook her head, looking around the crowded room and biting her lip, and then she glared back at me.
“Who said I’m on my own? Look at all these people around me.”
Strangers, not people. She didn’t know them, and I knew enough about human nature to know you can’t trust people.
“You didn’t come here with anyone, did you? Don’t bullshit me, Leah. We run a tight ship here but look at what almost happened to Jodie. If you want to go clubbing, go with friends. Don’t do it on your own.” It was on the tip of my tongue to add, ‘or call me,’ but I didn’t.
I felt her tense in my arms and she reared backwards, but I couldn’t let her go. Not yet.
“That’s a pretty sexist statement you just made,” she said angrily. “Why can’t a girl be on her own? Why is it her fault if something goes wrong and not the person who chooses to be a dick that night and hurt her?”
She was right, of course. But life didn’t always work out the way you wanted it to. It’s why our vigilante skills were so in demand. Life was unfair and true justice was rarely served, legally anyway. I didn’t want Leah May to become a statistic or a victim who needed our services. I’d rather die than let that happen.
“I didn’t say it would be your fault. I just… worry––” I cut myself off. I didn’t want to come across as a misogynist shithead, but after holding her in my arms, it made me feel a level of protection I’d never felt before. It made me feel possessive. Men were noticing her, and that didn’t sit well with me. In reality, I’d known this girl for five minutes, I’d had barely any interaction with her, and yet, something about her just called out to me, affected me. It felt as though she was mine to protect.
“How is Jodie?” I asked, trying to change the subject and steer away from the male chauvinism I seemed to have developed.
“She’s fine,” she snapped. She was still a little pissed at me, but then she softened again, and staring at the floor, she added, “I don’t think it’s actually sunk in what could’ve happened to her that night if you hadn’t shown up.”
“It could’ve been a lot worse.”
She lifted her chin up to stare straight at me, strength oozing from her as she did.
“Yes. It could’ve. But thank God it wasn’t, and we have you to thank for that.”
She looked at me then like the fucking sun shone out of my ass, and I don’t know why, but I couldn’t handle it. I wasn’t a fucking hero, far from it. I’d never want her to know exactly how fucking far though. That was shit that could break a girl like her. Antiheroes at their finest, that was what we were. Evil wrapped in good intentions.
She pulled away from me, and letting go of her felt wrong, but I let my arms fall to the side anyway and ignored the ache in my chest.
“Dance with me?” she asked suddenly, her eyes shining with a glint of hope. The thought of letting her down made the words in my throat feel like they’d travelled through razor blades to get out.
“I’m working.”
She frowned and put her hands on her hips.
“You can’t take five minutes off to dance with me?”
I never took time off, but with her standing in front of me, looking at me like she was, I wanted to fight my own instincts and say yes.
“No, I can’t. And anyway, I don’t dance.”
“Everyone dances.” She gave a gentle laugh. She wasn’t mocking me, she was trying to put me at ease, but normal people danced. I wasn’t normal.
“I don’t.”
