Deception: The Reapers Series Book Two

by Bo Reid

  “I-I-I don’t know. Fuck! I have no idea why I said that stuff,” Nash stutters out as I reach the end of the hallway, throwing open the window and climbing out onto the fire escape. I turn and climb up the rickety staircase to the roof, away from everything that’s crumbling at my very feet.

  When I reach the roof, I can finally manage a deep breath of cold air. Making my way to the far end, I sit on the edge of our roof, dangling my legs off the edge. I stare out at another beautiful Sanorah sunset. The beauty of this area masks the horrors and things that go bump in the night.

  The forest, high mountain lakes, and rock climbing at one side. The city can be seen in the distance as their lights brighten the landscape.

  It’s always the pretty places that hide the most evil. It’s almost like people want to be shocked. They act like their neighbor could never be a killer. The homeless guy on the corner is more feared than your brother’s best friend. but you’re seventy percent more likely to be murdered by someone you know

  People see what they want to see. It’s why I walk the streets free.

  Ranger

  “Go get her,” Hunter says to me as I stare out the open window to the fire escape where I know Morana disappeared to. It’s been a long time since she felt like that was the only place she could go.

  She’s always opened the windows, always had to let the cold in. After we figured out she’d go to the roof to escape, Hunter built her a small ledge out her bedroom window when we moved in here. Giving her a little piece of freedom.

  “Maybe you should go,” I say, turning to him.

  “She isn’t upset with you; she doesn’t blame you. You need to stop blaming yourself,” he says as he shoves me towards the window.

  “I just don’t want to hurt her,” I whisper.

  “You know how it hurts us when she keeps her distance? You hurt her when you keep yours,” he says. “You two are more alike than you want to admit, and you can save her in a way I can’t,” he says, letting out a deep breath.

  “What do you mean?” I ask, studying his face. Hunter and I are brother close, sleep with the same girl close, but not share your feelings close. The only person any of us open up to is the one currently hiding from us on a rooftop.

  “Nothing man, just go bring our girl back, okay?” he says, turning and walking down the hallway leaving me to make the choice myself.

  Taking a deep breath, I make my way out onto the fire escape and up the death-trap set of stairs. Stepping onto the roof I see Morana sitting on the edge, her small frame silhouetted by the setting sun.

  I take a small step towards her, not wanting to startle her. I have no idea how to get her attention when she’s so close to that damn edge, a fraction of an inch away from slipping and falling four stories.

  “I know you’re here,” she calls without removing her gaze from the horizon.

  Of course, she does. She always knows.

  I slowly make my way over to her. “Is this seat taken?” I ask lightly tapping the place next to her with my foot.

  “It is now,” she says.

  I sit down next to her but don’t swing my legs over the edge. I sit facing her as she watches the skyline, prepared in case she slips. I’ve always hated her coming up here. There’s no ledge, it’s just a flat rooftop where someone could easily fall.

  “Are you okay?” I ask her gently.

  “I don’t know what okay is anymore.”

  “Are we okay?” I ask.

  She finally looks away from the sunset and grabs my hand. “We’re okay on my end, are we okay on your end?” she asks softly.

  “Of course,” I tell her, opening my arms to her. She scrambles off the edge and settles into my lap.

  “Tell me what that was about with Nash,” I say firmly. She doesn’t want to be treated like she’s broken so I won’t.

  “I think he has a thing for that female agent.”

  “And why is that an issue other than her being FBI and a part of the task force trying to pin a murder on you that you didn’t do?”

  “I don’t want her to take him away from me,” she whispers.

  “You’ve never had any issues with him being with someone else in the past.” She sits up in my lap to look at me.

  “It’s not like that, I’m not jealous. But everyone in the past has been someone that, if it was real, we could bring them in on all of this,” she says, gesturing around. “But FBI? We can’t turn an agent so it would come down to us or her. Me or her,” she says, lowering her head. “And I’m being selfish.”

  “You don’t think he would pick you?” I ask her softly.

  “Why would he? Why would anyone?”

  “Because you’re everything we have, Love. Because you’re his home, you’re his family. And at the end of the day, he knows that you’d never make him choose. But he would, Love, he would choose you every time.”

  “What if I don’t want him to?” she whispers and I pull back to look into her face, where tears glisten in her eyes.

  “What do you mean, Love?”

  “I think you all deserve a better chance to live your lives. It was different before, but now everything is falling apart. I’m falling apart. And you guys shouldn’t be saddled into picking up my pieces.”

  “Will you please stop pushing us all away?” I whisper as I brush her hair out of her face. “We’re here because we want to be. Because we want you,” I say before placing a gentle kiss against her lips.

  She kisses me back with force, our teeth clacking together. She wraps her hands around my neck, pulling me close to her. As she moves around to straddle my lap, I move us back from the edge before gently laying her down.

  “Tell me to stop if it’s too much, okay?” I ask her, and she nods.

  I lean forward, planting another kiss on her lips before moving to her neck and sucking my way down.

  “I love you,” she whispers as I move my hand up her shirt.

  “I love you too,” I tell her as she brings her hands above her head so I can pull her shirt off. She arches her back and I move my hand around to unhook her bra, pulling it off and exposing her breasts.

  I work my mouth across her body, kissing every inch of each scar now marking her. Working my mouth over her hardened nipples, I gently suck one into my mouth, covering the other with my hand. She moans quietly and arches her back, pushing her breasts up, urging me on.

  Moving my mouth to the other nipple, I let the cold air lick her skin. Slowly I move my hand down to the hem of her sweatpants, gently running the tips of my fingers along the hem. Feeling her stiffen under me slightly I stop my hand.

  “Is this okay, Love?” I ask her quietly.

  “Yes,” she says. I move up her body to kiss her lips.

  “You can always say no. And I will always listen,” I whisper against her lips.

  “It’s okay. I need you, Ranger,” she whispers before crashing her lips against mine. As she parts her lips and I dip my tongue into her mouth, I dive my hand into her pants. Moving her underwear to the side I gently massage circles against her clit.

  She grabs the back of my neck, pulling me closer to her as I work my hand over her. When I feel her legs start to shake, I kiss my way down her body.

  Pulling her pants down over her thighs, I remove my hand from her clit and place my lips against her. Licking and sucking her, tasting her pleasure as I dip two fingers into her, pumping in and out until she’s panting, and her body can’t stop shaking.

  When she lets go and her orgasm crashes over her she moans my name, thrusting her hands into my hair. I remove my fingers from her replacing them with my tongue, darting it in and out of her, tasting every drop of pleasure she’ll give me.

  After she’s completely spent, I gently pull her pants back up. Pulling my shirt off, I lift her into my arms and dress her in my shirt. She snuggles close to my chest as I lean against the metal cooling unit on the roof.

  “What about you?” she asks as I adjust my rock-hard dick in my pa
nts, and I kiss her forehead.

  “It’s going to be all about you for a while, Love. You deserve it, and we want to give you everything.”

  Lifting her in my arms, I carry her down the fire escape and into our apartment. Laying her down in her bed and I tuck her in for the night. I lay with her until she falls asleep, planting a gentle kiss on her forehead before leaving her snoring softly.

  “I love you,” I whisper from the doorway.

  “Do you ever want kids?” I ask Morana as she snuggles closer to my side.

  I wrap my arm around her, pulling her as close as I can get her. I rest my hand on her hip as she drapes one leg over my thigh.

  “No,” she says.

  Turning to look at her I study her face. Her eyes are closed and a small yawn breaks from her lips. The light from the TV dances over her features, and I want nothing more than to lean over and plant a kiss on her lips. To make her mine. But I can’t.

  “Why not?” I ask.

  She cracks one eye open and studies my face for a moment. “Yeah, cause it isn’t like every murderer to ever have kids didn’t royally fuck them up,” she answers sarcastically.

  “You wouldn’t fuck them up,” I say, and she just shakes her head.

  She closes her eyes again and rests her head on my chest. “Do you want kids?” she finally whispers in a sleepy tone.

  “If I found the right person.” I squeeze her hip slightly.

  She’s the right person. She’s the person I want to spend the rest of my life with. Through highs and lows, I want it all. Marriage and kids, hell I’d even take a white picket fence if she wanted one. Even if she didn’t want any of that, I’d still want her.

  “You’ll find her,” she mumbles. When her breathing evens out, her chest rising and falling in rhythm with small snores escaping her, I kiss her forehead. Leaning in, I whisper,

  “I already have.”

  Chapter 5: Cyanide

  Morana

  We’ve started locking the doors to the main building to avoid any more early morning surprises. So, it doesn’t come as a shock when the security camera and intercom system alert us to someone’s presence out front.

  I’m going to need people to stop showing up before like nine in the morning. Do Reapers get to have bank hours? Like we only take meetings between nine in the morning and five at night? Can we make that a rule?

  “Who is it?” I call out from the kitchen as Hunter goes to check the system.

  “Feds!” he calls back.

  “Which ones?” I ask.

  “All of them,” he grumbles, while I hop off the counter to see who’s here. Sure enough, on the video screen I see five federal agents at our front door.

  “Something I can do for you, Agent Connors?” I call through the intercom. He looks up towards the camera, startled as if he didn’t realize they were being recorded. Come on, dude, every proper mob house has a security feed.

  “We would like to talk to Miss Valdis,” he says while looking into the camera.

  “Okay, sure,” I say.

  “Could you buzz us in?” he grits through clenched teeth.

  “Yup, as soon as you hold up your warrant,” I sing-song.

  “This isn’t a search, we just have some questions regarding your father's case,” Talin offers.

  “Well, in that case, you can contact my lawyer to set up a time to talk.”

  “We’re here because you’re the victim’s daughter, not because you’re a suspect,” Agent Holt adds in and I really want to cut her, but just a little bit.

  “Forgive me if I don’t believe that considering I’ve already been arrested for this crime once.”

  “Morana, we just want to talk,” Connors says with a small grin, and I know he’s thinking he wants to do more than talk with me.

  Agent Malic Connors, thirty-eight years old, born not too far from here in Delling, just another reason to hate him. He has a spotty FBI record at best filled with numerous complaints from both co-workers and suspects.

  Everything about him screams dirty, but I can’t for the life of me figure out exactly what he’s in to. There’s no doubt in my mind that he has something to do with my father’s death, and he has a hard-on to pin it on me. I just don’t know why.

  “You’re welcome to contact my lawyer, Maddison Bentley. She’ll be happy to set up a time to sit and chat. Have a great day, Agents,” I say before cutting the intercom system off.

  They all grumble a few words before eventually turning back to their waiting SUVs.

  “Get Maddison on the phone,” I say, turning to Hunter.

  “Okay, do you still want to go to that appointment today?” he asks. I look down at the lighter scars covering my arms and nod. I want them gone.

  “Have you always been such a sociopath, or is this something new that you recently picked up?” I quip, swaying slightly on my feet.

  “Baby, you should be resting,” he coos to me, taking a step towards me.

  Fire licks across my skin, chasing away the fog I hold so dear. But I don’t need it now, now I need my monster. I pull her to the surface, welcoming her to take payment for his sins.

  “I’m not your baby,” I seethe.

  His face turns red, full of fury and anger. He steps towards me and I smirk. I was never much of a hunter chasing after my prey. I prefer them to come to me, makes my life so much easier.

  Maverick reaches his hand out to me and I quickly grab my blade, jamming it into his exposed forearm. He yanks his arm back, cupping his other hand over his new wound with a screech.

  I toss my head back and laugh, finally feeling free again. And maybe a little crazy. Oh well, when am I not?

  “Morana, don’t do this,” he grits.

  “Fuck. You.”

  Maverick steps forward, gripping my arm and managing to toss me across the living room like a rag doll. When he gets close enough I reach up and stab my blade into his thigh, smiling as he loses his balance and drops to his knees.

  I scramble off the floor and dive for him, digging my knife into his chest. Again, he manages to toss me off of him, preventing me from burying my knife as deep as I wanted to.

  I’m weak from blood loss and the only thing that’s keeping me upright is the adrenaline coursing through my veins, and the vengeance in my heart.

  Maverick straddles my waist, pinning me underneath him. “Baby, it doesn’t have to be like this,” he grits, trying to pry my knife from my fingers. “I love you; I just want us to be happy.”

  “Hey, Mav?” I ask in a sugar-sweet tone.

  “Yes, Baby? Tell me what you need.” He smiles, cocking his head to the side like he really wants to know what I want from him.

  I can't help the wicked grin that pulls at my lips as I grip my other knife, “Do me a favor?”

  “Anything.”

  “Don’t go to Hell, I don’t want to have to see you there,” I quip before bringing my hand up and jamming my second blade into his throat, twisting it before pulling it back out.

  He cups his gaping wound but it's too late, he’ll never survive. I push him off of me as he tumbles to the floor. My rage gets the better of me and I bring my knife up, burying it in his torso over and over and over again.

  Stabbing him until there isn’t anything left to bury my knife in, I crawl off of him, pulling myself up. Looking down at his mutilated corpse, I sigh.

  It’s over.

  Suddenly I’m very tired and covered in blood, but I’m not sure whose blood. Maybe both of ours. The room around me starts to spin slightly as I reach up to cup my pounding head.

  I stumble through the living room and down the hallway. The cold hardwood floor biting at the bottom of my feet lets me know that it's not much farther. Then I can rest, I won't have to fight anymore.

  Falling to the ground just outside my bedroom, I don’t have the energy to pull myself up. I bring my legs up to my chest and let the darkness settle over me.

  “I’m sorry,” I whisper to the only family I
have left, and they’re not even here to hear it.

  After spending the morning on a very expensive call with Maddison she was able to get us cleared to enter our old house later this week. We’re not allowed to go into the office which is still an active crime scene, but you know, accidents happen.

  “Mi Hermosa Chica!” Ricardo says as we enter our favorite tattoo shop in Sanorah.

  “Ricky!” I say, throwing my arms around the older man, giving him a fierce hug.

  Ricky’s forty-five, covered head to toe in tattoos, and he owns the best tattoo shop on the west coast. A little hole in the wall shop that people spend eight months on a waiting list to get into.

  His work is unsurpassable, but he always makes time for us. He even has a tattoo or two he let me do when I was a teenager.

  “Oh, Mi Amor, what happened?” he asks when we pull apart and he can see the scars along my arms.

  “Nothing Ricky, you know how it goes,” I say shrugging, but he cuts Ranger a glare. “Don’t, Ricky, they couldn’t have stopped it. But I want them gone. Can you make something for me?” I ask.

  He moves his gaze back to me and his eyes soften. “Of course, I’ll start drawing stuff up this week. Do you have any ideas?” he asks.

  “Nope. If you draw it, I know I’ll love it. But there’s more,” I say as I lift my shirt, and he gasps at the deeper lacerations. “And…” I trail off as I slide my sweatpants off so he can see my thighs. I want them all gone, covered in dark ink and showcased in art.

  Ranger stands at my back, blocking me from view of anyone walking by or who might walk into the shop.

  “Morana…” Ricky starts to say but shakes his head. I pull my sweats back up, and he brings me in for another strong hug.

  Ricky’s always been like that fun uncle, the one who lets you stay up past bedtime, and gives you ice cream when you didn’t eat your peas.

  At least that’s how I picture he’d be if we were more normal. But as it is, he’s the cool uncle that lets you give him a crappy tattoo when you’re sixteen. The one that gives you your first tattoo before you’re eighteen. The one that gives you your first drink at fourteen and teaches you how to throw knives when you’re eight.