Page 22 of Razor

“Um, thanks.”

I edge a little closer, my curiosity getting in the way of nerves, and I say in a low voice, “It’s a lot, I admit that. Will this ever get normal for me?”

His eyes flash.

“That depends on how long you’re staying.”

“How long do most people stay?”

He shrugs. “That depends.”

It’s obvious he’s not the talking kind, and that intrigues me even more. And then Britney calls, “Hey, Sunday. Come and meet Carla; she’s just got back from babysitting duty.”

I smile at Razor, but he’s already studying his bottle again, and I’m surprised at how reluctant I am to leave his side. Why am I interested in a man like him? It doesn’t make sense, but I am. The way my heart falters, my speech shakes, and my pussy clenches tells me there is something about this man that speaks to my soul, but from the look of him, it’s not reciprocated.

Reluctantly, I head over to the girls, wondering if I’ll be watching him disappear with one of the women later tonight, and I already hate the idea of that.

CHAPTER 11

RAZOR

Ileft the bar for my own sanity. It’s obvious Sunday is gonna be a popular addition to our fucked-up family. I lost count of the number of Reapers who attempted to engage her in conversation, and I like to tell myself it’s because she’s fresh meat. But she’s more than that. Sunday is like a breath of fresh air through this entire fucking compound, and I’m not the only one who thinks that.

I see them staring her way, whispered comments behind their hands, plotting to get in her panties, to be the one to claim her first. It’s messing with my mind, and I can’t bear the thought of her walking out of the door with one of my brothers, so I walk out in advance—alone.

Sleep doesn’t come easilyto me most nights, but tonight I’m alone with my dark thoughts. Not just because of the mission today either. I’m used to death and destruction. It’s what happened when we came back that’s messing with my mind.

I can’t shake the image of Sunday away. Picturing her with another Reaper. Smiling at him, touching him—him touching her. It’s an alien feeling because I don’t usually care. But forsome reason I do this time, and I’m not sure what to think about that.

I texted Blade for company, but his response was the middle finger, meaning he found a much more entertaining way to spend his evening. Most of the Reapers do. If they don’t head home to their old ladies, they take advantage of the candy trail we live with.

Women who are as lost as we are, grateful for a warm body to cling to while the world goes on around us. We live as invisible soldiers fighting an enemy that not many know about. We are the men who bring justice when justice fails, and I wouldn’t have it any other way.

By 2 a.m. I can’t sleep and decide to head out for a jog. That’s not uncommon for me. I relish the darkness. The privacy it brings and the cool air a welcome reprieve from the heat of the day.

I pull on my shorts and sneakers but not a lot else, and as I head outside I welcome the cool breeze.

I’ve always been more at home with darkness than light, both mentally and physically, and as I head off on the trail, only the steady beat of my heart accompanies me.

The nocturnal choir of nature reminds me I’m not alone out here, and as I gently jog through the treeline, a twig cracks beneath my feet.

I round the corner toward the Lakehouse, and as the moon casts its light on my path, I’m surprised to discover I’m not alone.

I would recognize her anywhere, even out here in oblivion, and my breath catches as Sunday jogs toward me, her blonde hair pulled in a ponytail, swinging as she jogs.

She is wearing shorts and a tank with sneakers, and I wonder why she’s not tucked up in bed, but glad she’s not under one of my brothers.

She peers up as I approach, startled for sure, and I ease to a slow walk and reassure her with a soft, “I didn’t expect to have company out here.”

“Razor.”

Her gasp of relief somehow lightens my spirit, and she draws close, her face flushed and accentuated by the moon’s rays.

“I couldn’t sleep.”

She appears weary, and I peer a little closer.

“The nightmares, I’m guessing.”