Page 3 of Reaper

I clear my throat. “I had my suspicions. Somehow they are tracking the van. We need to check it over with a fine-tooth comb.”

I look at Wrath. His frown tells me he’s suspicious too. He doesn’t understand why I lied to Colt. He won’t question me though.

Truth is, I think Colt may be a problem. One I’m going to have to solve, but with him being my vice president, I can’t just off him. There’s a process that must be followed. If I killed him now without evidence, I’d lose the trust in my men.

No, I need irrefutable evidence that he’s selling us out. He’s a legacy like me so it will take hard proof that he is a traitor.

“I don’t know, man. How would they have gotten to the van?” Colt asks, sounding perplexed.

“That’s the problem. We have no idea. So sweep the van, then torch it. If we find nothing, we will move on from there.”

Colt is quiet a moment before he breathes out a sigh. “I know you don’t want to believe it, but I think someone ratted us out that the route changed.”

No shit.

“Let’s not jump the gun. Do as I said, and we will meet you back at the clubhouse for a meeting.”

I nod to Wrath. He hangs up without waiting for Colt to respond.

He’ll be cursing me, but I don’t have the patience to deal with him right now.

“Do you think he’s right?” Wrath asks after a moment.

I shrug. “That’s a future problem for us to deal with. We need to focus on what we have right here and now. The Medina Cartel have been good partners for a while, but that can change at any moment. I hate that we don’t have more backup, but as long as everything goes off without a hitch, we should be fine.”

He doesn’t say another word, but I know he’s thinking about it. About who could be a traitor.

Only time will tell.

* * *

“The potatoes are cold, Natalie.”

I flinch as he tosses his fork onto his plate. The sound of metal hitting the ceramic echoes throughout the quiet house.

This is how it always is. It’s never good enough for him. Nothing I do ever is.

If I’m lucky, he will berate me for a while before deciding to go out and fuck someone else as my punishment.

He thinks I care.

I don’t.

I feel bad for whatever poor girl gets sucked into his charming persona. She’s as much a victim as I am.

Even so, I don’t feel that bad. If he’s with her, then he’s not here with me. He’s not using his tongue to reprimand me or his fists to teach me lessons. My body will be safe for a little while at least.

“I’m talking to you. Are you even going to apologize?” he spits from across the table.

“I’m sorry,” I apologize robotically, even though I know it won’t make a difference.

I don’t recognize this meek girl I’ve become. I used to be so full of life. Always laughing. Hanging out with the girls from work.

Then I met the man of my dreams.

Or so I thought.

William Danworth.

---