Page 92 of Reaper
"You okay?" he asks quietly. "You seem jumpy."
I shake my head. "Just tired. Long day."
It's not entirely a lie, but I can't shake the feeling that we're being watched. I scan the room again, cataloging faces and exit routes, but nothing seems out of place.
The sequined woman finally puts "My Heart Will Go On” out of its misery, and the DJ calls out, "Next up, we have Mayhem singing 'I Want It That Way' by the Backstreet Boys!"
Mayhem bounds onto the stage with more enthusiasm than I've ever seen from someone heading into a firefight. He grabs the microphone like it's a lifeline, and when the opening notes start, he doesn't just sing—he performs. His voice is surprisingly good, hitting the harmonies with unexpected precision while he works the small crowd like he's playing Madison Square Garden.
"Tell me why!" he belts out, pointing dramatically at Mrs. Eng, who claps and sways in her seat. "Ain't nothing but a heartache!"
Tank shakes his head, but I catch him tapping his fingers against his beer bottle. Even Diesel cracks a smile when Mayhem hits the high notes without his voice cracking. I laugh as Mayhem attempts some sort of choreographed dance move that looks more like he's having a seizure.
When he finishes to genuine applause, Mrs. Eng practically floats onto the stage. The opening chords of "Dancing Queen" fill the smoky air, and suddenly this tiny, elegant woman transforms into a force of nature. She owns every note, every gesture, her voice strong and clear as she belts out the chorus. The entire bar sings along.
"You are the dancing queen, young and sweet, only seventeen!"
I watch her command the stage and feel something loosen in my chest. When was the last time I just... enjoyed something? When did I last sit in a dive bar and laugh at my friends being ridiculous? The weight of Vanessa's death, of Volkov's threats, of everything hanging over us — it all feels distant right now.
Reaper's hand finds mine under the table, his fingers intertwining with mine. The touch sends warmth shooting up my arm, and I don't pull away. For once, I don't analyze it or worry about what it means. I just let myself feel the connection.
"Having fun?" he asks, leaning close so I can hear him over Mrs. Eng's triumphant finale.
"Yeah," I admit, surprised by how true it is. "I am."
Maybe we can have more moments like this. Maybe after we deal with Volkov, we can figure out what this thing between us really is. Maybe I can let myself want something good for once. Maybe we can make it last.
Mrs. Eng takes her bow to thunderous applause, then rushes back to our table, her cheeks flushed with excitement.
"That was wonderful!" she exclaims, settling back into the booth. "Now, Mayhem, are you ready for our big number?"
"Born ready, Mrs. E."
The DJ's voice crackles over the speakers. "All right, folks, we've got something special coming up. Mayhem and Mrs. Eng are going to tackle 'Bohemian Rhapsody.' This should be interesting!"
I stand up, the beer finally catching up with me. "I'll be right back," I tell the table, squeezing by Reaper, who pinches my ass as I do so. I grin at him, then turn from the table and head toward the dark hallway that leads to the bathrooms that I hope are cleaner than the rest of this place.
The hallway is dimmer than I expected, lit only by a single flickering bulb that casts dancing shadows on the grimy walls. Behind me, I can hear the opening piano notes of "Bohemian Rhapsody" starting up, followed by Mayhem's voice launching into the first verse. The sound feels distant now, muffled by the narrow corridor.
I’ll need to hurry. I don’t want to miss the entire performance.
I'm halfway to the bathroom door when a hand clamps over my mouth from behind, another arm snaking around my waist and yanking me backward against a solid chest. My training kicks in immediately—I try to stomp down on my attacker's instep, but he anticipates the move and shifts his weight and slams me hard into the wall.
A voice fills my ears. Hot, dirty, and heavily accented — Russian.
"You didn't think you could hide from us forever, did you?”
Chapter Forty
Reaper
Something isn’t right. I’ve never had much of a sixth sense for danger — hell, my senses all led me straight into danger and addiction — so maybe what I’m feeling isn’t so much that something’s wrong, but that Ineedto be with Adriana right now. Maybe it’s from her touch, her smile, or maybe it’s that the idea of having her here, now — even skipping Mayhem and Mrs. Eng’s fucking amazing rendition of ‘Bohemian Rhapsody’ to fuck Adriana in the bathroom at this dirty karaoke club — is so powerful it’s less something that I want and more something that I need as much as I need to breathe.
“I’m going to go check on her,” I say as I stand.
Tank rolls his eyes at me. “It’s not even been a minute. You really going to skip Mayhem and Mrs. Eng’s song to go help your lady take a piss?”
“You know that’s not what I’m doing.”
