Page 76 of Reaper
"And what? Tell them we were here to steal guns from the Triads while posing as Russians but found people instead? You want to explain that to the fucking police?"
Tank takes a step toward me, his face red with rage. "I don't give a shit about explanations. These people need help, not whatever criminal bullshit you're cooking up."
"I'm trying to help them!" The words come out louder than I intended. I throw a look over my shoulder at the trailer, but it seems like no one’s heard. Good. "But I need you to trust me. All of you."
Diesel clears his throat. "What's the plan, brother?"
I look around at their faces — Tank still furious, Adriana resigned, Mayhem curious, Diesel waiting. "First, we keep up the Russian act, and we move all twenty of them into the U-Haul. Before the Triads show up."
"Move them where?" Adriana asks.
"The hideout apartment. We hold them there for phase two."
"Which is?" Her voice is flat, professional.
I grin, feeling the pieces click together. "Two parts. First, I make a very important phone call for backup. Second, I need to figure out which two of you look sexiest in uniform."
I give Adriana a pointed look. She closes her eyes, takes a deep breath, then opens them with the resignation of someone about to jump off a cliff.
"Fine."
That's when Mayhem's hand shoots up like he's in third grade. "Oh, pick me! I volunteer!"
Tank stares at him. "You don't even know what he's talking about."
"Doesn't matter," Mayhem says with that manic grin of his. "If it involves uniforms and looking sexy, I'm your man. I've got great legs."
“That settles it, then. Now, comrades, let’s get to work.”
Chapter Thirty-Four
Adriana
“This is not ideal. Not at all.” Susan shifts beside me, her eyes locked on the apartment building that holds our hideout and the twenty people we rescued from the Triads. “We shouldn’t be doing this. If it wasn’t Ricky who called…”
I sigh, but say nothing, even though Susan is echoing every one of my thoughts. Just how easily is Reaper willing to use other people? Are we all being used by him? Is this what he did to my sister, too? Was she sucked in by his charm, his gravity, his eyes, and made a victim as part of whatever vendetta Reaper was involved in?
Mayhem shrugs. “I don’t know. This helps those people out; it gets them away from the Triads, and it helps us with, uh…” His voice trails off before I even have to elbow him.Good.I doubt Susan’s fragile cooperation would hold up in finding out that she’s also potentially furthering a gang war between the Triads and the Russians. She has a spine, ethics, a code she lives by — and even one she’s willing to kill for, judging by the pistol she has strapped to her hip.
Just like I used to have.
I frown. “Any minute now, we should get the signal. Susan, you’ll come up with us, but wait in the hall until we direct you in. Once Mayhem and I have finished the ‘raid’ and ‘arrested’ the suspects, we’ll assist you in transporting the victims to your shelter. Are you ready for that?”
“Ready? I don’t know if I’m ready. Will I do it? Yes. I’ve already called in a favor with a friend who runs STN — that’s ‘Stop Trafficking Now’ — and they have several volunteers coming to the shelter to help with getting these people asylum or coordinating with the embassies to find their families. It will be messy as fuck, and I’m going to expect a big favor from you all when this is over, but we should be able to help them. I hope.”
I nod. At least there’s the potential that some good can come of this, even if so many people are being used as pawns. “Mayhem, are you ready?”
“Ready? This uniform flatters my chest and my ass like you wouldn’t believe. I can’t believe it was so cheap to rent them from that costume shop. Adriana, I’ll want you to take a few pictures for me after this is over so I can send them to Stacy. And I want one where I’m bending over. Like a deep bend.”
“Fine. Whatever,” I say, so focused on getting Mayhem to focus that I don’t realize what I’ve agreed to until it’s too late.
Susan gives me side-eye, but says nothing.
My phone buzzes against my hip. The signal. My stomach drops.
"That's it," I say, checking the screen. Just a simple text: Go. From an unknown number I know belongs to Reaper. "Time to move."
Mayhem straightens his fake badge and grins like he's about to rob a bank instead of pretend to arrest his own friends. "Showtime, baby."
