Deception: The Reapers Series Book Two

by Bo Reid

  'Cause our home is in the heart of a small girl with dark hair, glowing emerald eyes, and homicidal tendencies.

  Feeling mildly better than we did when we woke up, we make the trek up the four flights of stairs to our living floor. I don’t think any of us will feel better until we fix this.

  “Morana!” I call out as we walk into the loft. We look around the space and nothing looks out of the ordinary, but there’s a weight in the air making it hard to breathe.

  “Love?” I call again, and we fan out to find her.

  “Was her jeep in the garage? Maybe she went out,” Nash says, and I can’t remember if I saw her jeep or not. We hear a crash sound from the kitchen and race in there to find Hunter on his knees clutching something in his hand.

  “Are you okay?” Nash asks. When Hunter looks up, his eyes are glistening with unshed tears. He lifts his hand to me and I take the paper he’s gripping.

  Guys, I’m sorry. I really am, for so many things, but mostly for bringing you into this life and for making you stay. I’m sorry for the lies over the years, for never being able to fully open up, and for never being able to be the girl you each deserve. I hope you can let go and move on from me now. I promise I won't stop you.

  Marcus will continue paying your percentages as we already talked about, whether you decide to work with him or not is your choice. I hope you guys decide to move on, figure out your dreams.

  You guys can do anything you want to do now. I promise not to hold you back anymore.

  I love each of you.

  -Morana

  I drop the letter and turn to race down the hallway towards her room. Nothing seems quite out of place, but my girl was never one for frills. I rip open her nightstand drawer and it’s missing.

  The only two things she ever cared about. A polaroid picture taken of the four of us the day we graduated high school with honors,-- All of us, tops of the class,-- and a necklace Hades gave her for their fifteenth birthday. She never wore it, but it meant more to her than any other piece of jewelry.

  I collapse on top of the bed, running my hands through my hair and gripping the ends to attempt to hold myself together.

  We did this. We fucking left and now she’s gone.

  Again.

  Only this time we might never get her back.

  Getting a grip on myself, I rise from her bed and walk down the hall. I hear Nash on the phone with someone.

  “You have to find her,” he’s begging someone on the other line. “Please.”

  I watch him pacing back and forth in front of the large windows as Hunter leans his back against the cabinets in the kitchen, still on the floor.

  “Okay, thank you,” Nash whispers before hanging up.

  “Who was that?” I ask.

  “Emma. She’s going to look for her. She’s still a suspect in the murder of Aeron, so they have to find her for those reasons, but she said she’d let me know when she was found,” he explains.

  “The picture’s gone, and her necklace,” I whisper.

  “She left her ring,” Hunter says, holding up the Reaper ring we each wear. “This is all our fault,” Hunter says, and I nod.

  “No, it’s not. She’s the one that left,” Nash says.

  “We left first,” I point out.

  “She’s spent the last several years racking up secrets, never telling us everything. Never fully letting us in. Can you blame us for needing to step back?”

  “No, but we could’ve handled that better. And with everything going on right now? Everything she’s already been through, and we fucking walk out? We fucked up, Nash, and you know it,” I say.

  I can see the anger building up in Nash before he snaps. He grips a lamp and throws it against the far wall, shattering, raining pieces onto the hardwood floor.

  “Stop fucking making excuses for her!” he yells. “I’m done! Yeah so we all fucked up, but you know what you two are so fucking in love with her that when she says jump you ask how high. That’s all well and good, but that doesn't help her! That doesn’t make her better, that just enables her to keep her fucking secrets.”

  “We need to find her, not argue,” Hunter says. “She’s alone with a dirty fed after her. You’re both right. We shouldn’t have walked out, and she shouldn’t have kept so much from us. But the bottom line is everyone was fucking wrong here. Each and every one of us did something wrong. And I don’t give a fuck what you two do but I’m getting my girl back.”

  “I’m going to get my sister back, but I’m done playing these bullshit games with you guys. You want her? You want all of her? Then you’re going to have to fucking push her to give it to you. I know you don’t want to, you never want to do anything to upset her, to make her uncomfortable, but fuck guys! We’ve been playing this game for nearly a decade and I’m over it. I know who she thinks she is, and I know who she really is. I want that girl, the one I know she can be, ‘cause that one? She’s pretty fucking great,” Nash says.

  I look to Hunter and I can see he wants to argue, hell I do too, but I can’t because I know he’s right. As much as I hate to admit it, Nash might know her better than we do. They’ve just always had this bond; one we could never form with her because we’re too distracted by a haze of love and lust. We see her one way, but he sees something else, and I’ve never been able to figure out what that thing was.

  Chapter 13: Formaldehyde

  Morana

  Maybe walking into the dirty bar on the outskirts of Delling that the Fallen Angels MC uses as their headquarters isn’t the best idea. But here I am, and I don’t back down. Plus, I’ve already lost everything worth living for, so I don’t see the point in being careful. Whoever’s doing all of this… it’s because they want me. They want Valdis blood on their hands and I’m the only Valdis left that they can take it from.

  Opening the saloon-style doors to the dark, dank, smoke-filled bar, I step inside, my heels clicking against the nearly rotten wooden floor. The further I walk into the space the quieter the rowdy crowd grows. I take a seat on the far bar stool and make myself comfortable. I shouldn’t have to wait too long.

  “What can I getcha, Honey?” the obviously strung out bartender asks me.

  “I’m here to see your Prez,” I say as I eye his prospector patch on his cut.

  “Uh, Wildman doesn’t take walk-ins usually, but I’m sure for you he’d make an exception to the rules,” he remarks as he eyes my cleavage.

  “Hey there, Sweetness.” Another member slides up to me at the bar. “Prospect, get the lady a drink,” he says without taking his eyes off me.

  “She hasn’t said what she’s having.”

  “Actually, I did. I said I was here to see your Prez. Are you hard of hearing or just stupid?” I ask, cocking my head to the side. No need to play nice here.

  “Oh, if you’re here to see Wildman, I’ll have to give you a test drive first. Make sure you’re good enough,” the member next to me says before slapping his meaty hand on my thigh.

  Before he can comprehend my movements, I swing around on my stool, grab the back of his hair, and slam his face into the edge of the bar, breaking his nose on impact. I draw one of my many blades and place it against his throat as he starts to thrash in my hold.

  He instantly stills under my grasp as the blade cuts into his neck and I feel the blood start to slide down the hilt, coating my hands. The warm blood feels comforting against my cold skin. The perfect reminder of who I still am.

  “Let me be very clear,” I start as all the noise in the bar stops around us. “My name is Morana Valdis.” He halts all of his movements and a collective gasp runs through the room. I smile, looking over my shoulder.

  “And you don’t get to touch me without my permission,” I say before digging my knife into his throat and dropping my hold of him. His hands instantly go up to grip his gaping neck wound as I turn around, blood coating my hand and knife. No one makes a single step towards me as I look around the room.

  I hear slow clapp
ing sound from above me, and a smile starts to take over my face. Turning around I look up at the man known as William ‘Wild Man’ Wilder.

  “Where are all your manners?” he chastises his people. “Don’t you know royalty when you see it?” With the amount of silence at my back I’m guessing that no, they don’t know royalty. But they know enough not to approach the girl wielding a knife soaked in the blood of their fallen friend.

  Their very own Fallen Angel. How cute.

  “Is there something I can do for you my Queen?” he asks from the balcony.

  “You can tell me why your FBI agent half-brother is trying to pin a murder on me that he’s responsible for.” It’s an educated guess, but the way William’s eyes widen slightly before he corrects his features is just the confirmation I was after. Suddenly walking in here has been worth it.

  “Why don’t we talk in my office?” he suggests, gesturing towards the stairs. Turning, I make my way up to the second floor, but before I do, I catch a glimpse of familiar blond hair. He was quick but not quick enough, and now there’s another piece to this fucked up puzzle, and I don’t have any idea what the finished picture’s supposed to look like.

  “So, Miss Valdis, I’m not sure I know what you were talking about downstairs.” William attempts to play it cool, but I don’t miss the slight tremble of his hands or the light sheen of sweat coating his brow. I guess all those years in daddy’s office never taught him much.

  “Oh, William, are you really going to play this game? With me?” I ask, cocking one eyebrow in question. He starts to open his mouth with what is undoubtedly a very stupid excuse, but I raise my hand to halt his speech.

  “William, do you value your life?” I ask.

  “Uh, of course.”

  “Do you value the lives of any of your people?” He narrows his eyes at me before nodding his head. Maybe he values some of them, but I’d bet he’d sell their souls to the little Reaper Queen to save his own.

  “Excellent. So, here’s what’s going to happen.” I stand up, moving around his desk. I cup my bloody hand around his throat as I walk behind him and whisper in his ear, “I’m going to say what I think I know, and you’re going to confirm or deny. If I like your answers I might let you live.”

  I feel him swallow and nod his head.

  “Your half-brother is Federal Agent Malic Connors, yes?” I ask and he nods in agreement.

  “His mother put him up for adoption as an infant and your father killed her, yes?” Again, he nods.

  “He found out sixteen years ago and came looking for your father, but he was already dead. He found you instead.” He nods but I see through the corner of my gaze that he’s attempting to make a move for the gun taped to the underside of his desk.

  And here I thought we could be friends.

  I jam my knife into his hand, pinning it to the arm of his chair. He lets out a pained scream as he jerks his hand around.

  I tsk and wag my finger. “Now, William, you don’t want nerve damage, you won’t be able to ride.” He stops pulling at his hand, but his breathing is labored. You’d think he’d never been tortured before.

  Oh gosh, I might have to pop his torture cherry, take his T-Card.

  It’s like a V-Card, but for torture.

  “Now, William, back to our Q&A session. I’m guessing that sixteen years ago your brother came to you and offered you the world, but there was a hitch in his plan. Do you want to know what that was?” I ask in a giddy tone. The blood dripping from his hand is making me all warm and fuzzy inside.

  “What?” he grits out.

  “Valdis own this world, and Aeron wouldn’t deal with a bunch of low life, low IQ, biker thugs,” I say, cocking my head and smiling cheerfully at him. “So, for years Malic tried to better your little MC, pulling the strings from behind the curtain like your very own Oz. You guys sort of got cleaned up, at least clean for an MC.”

  I grip the hilt of the knife and rip it from William’s hand, causing him to let out another pained scream. I walk around his desk, twirling the knife in thought as more blood coats my hands.

  “What happened, William? Did Malic finally have enough of being the low man on the totem pole? So, he got someone to kill my father? Or did he man up and do it himself?” William doesn’t answer.

  “And why is he hellbent on pinning it on me? Just to have a fall man? Or so I can’t come after him in the end?” I ask as I hear the door click open. Before I can turn around and jam my knife into whoever just walked in, a hand wraps around my mouth.

  “Sweetheart, you’re too smart for your own good.” I hear the deep rumble and feel the vibrations of Malic Connors’ voice before a pair of handcuffs are slapped onto my wrists.

  I’m really starting to hate being cuffed when I’m not also being fucked. It’s just not the same.

  “And what am I under arrest for?” I ask in an innocent voice while my gaze remains fixed on William.

  “Trespassing.”

  “And here I thought we were friends, William,” I say, faking a pout. He just glares at me.

  “There’s quite the bloodstain on the bar downstairs. You wouldn’t happen to know anything about that, now would you, Sweetheart?”

  “Oh, course not, scout’s honor,” I say, raising up my blood-soaked hand and smiling wide for Malic. He rolls his eyes but doesn’t say anything as he leads me down the stairs to a waiting Delling County Sheriff car.

  “Oh, I don’t get to play with the FBI anymore?” I ask him as he hands me off to the young sheriff deputy.

  “Don’t you worry, Sweetheart, we’ll be playing again real soon,” he says with a wink before I’m lowered into the car. I hear the deputy asking about charges and things like that and being told not to book me. Oh, well this should be fun.

  When we pull up to the county jail, the young deputy pulls me from the car and tries not to make any eye contact with me. He has his serious fresh out of the academy, I’m here to do justice look on his face.

  It’s adorable, truly. I bet his mama’s so proud.

  One of my favorite pastimes used to be finding all the gung-ho rookies who hadn’t been corrupted or hardened by the unfair legal system yet and ruining them. It was truly a pleasure watching them realize everything they thought they knew about the law, right and wrong, fairness, justice, is really just a show. Breaking their poor little hearts. It was magical.

  I wonder if I can break this deputy’s soul before I go. I mean, you have to have life goals.

  Instead of being booked, officially charged, offered a phone call or my lawyer, I’m placed in an empty holding cell where I get to wait for whatever fun Malic has planned for me. Which will greatly depend on how many friends the Fallen Angels have in this jail, and how many people hate Valdis.

  When the cell door opens, I smile. I guess they have some pull here. It just won't be enough.

  Five women that look beyond strung out step into my cell. I’m guessing they’re the ‘old ladies’ or club whores for the MC members. Either way, they’ve clearly underestimated me. I don’t have a weapon of any kind, and I’m betting they do.

  “So, ladies, are you here to kill me or just rough me up a bit?” I ask without getting up from my bench.

  “What does that matter?” one of them asks, and I smile.

  “Because the reason you were sent in here will determine how you get to leave. If you’re supposed to leave me breathing, then I’ll let you live. If they want me dead? Well then, they’ll be removing five bodies from this cell, and mine won't be one of them. Choice is yours,” I say, shrugging.

  They take a moment to eye each other, probably wondering how serious I am. So, they’re club whores, considering they don’t know shit.

  “Tell you ladies what, you can turn around and walk out now, and you get to keep your faces intact. Deal?”

  “We can’t,” one says firmly.

  “Have it your way.” I shrug and crook my finger at them in a come here motion.

  The first steps u
p and goes for a punch which I easily block without standing. I duck and land a solid hit in her gut, causing her to topple over. I lean back against the wall again, waiting for another to make their move.

  When the next one steps forward it’s the same thing. Next thing I know the three that are still standing are coming at me. I sigh and stand up, blocking hits, kicking their legs out from under them. I don’t want to cause too much damage but if they don’t learn when to quit, then I’ll just have to make them.

  Once they’re all laid out on the ground, I land a solid kick to the first chick’s face when she tries to stand, knocking her completely out. I look down and assess my clothing. I’m wearing black so the blood hardly shows. A reaper wardrobe comes in handy.

  Walking over to the door, I pound my fist on the glass until one of the guards who let these lovely ladies into my cell steps forward. His eyes go wide when they land on the scene behind me and I smile at him.

  “Tell Malic Connors I’m done playing games,” I tell him through the door before turning around and retaking my seat on the concrete bench.

  Chapter 14: Chloroacetic Acid

  Talin

  It’s suspicious as fuck that not only is Morana Valdis missing, but now so is Agent Connors. And despite the fact that Morana left a note to her guys that she was going to be leaving, I have a gut feeling that Malic has more to do with this than even I originally thought.

  “Marks, I think we might have something,” Holt calls over to me, and I stand from my desk. Holt has video camera footage pulled up from the night Morana’s suspected of killing her father.

  She hits play on the screen and the grainy footage rolls. I note the time stamp in the corner showing the estimated time of death.

  “What am I looking at here, Holt?” I ask. She rewinds the footage then points in the corner where a brick building is. Morana’s building.