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Chapter
Two
Reaper
Boston has always been my favorite place to play when I was in my early twenties. The nightclubs were freaking insane.
“Drop me off in the back,” I say sharply to Remy, discouraging him from giving me a reply. It does the trick as he slants his eyebrows, but not arguing.
My moment was very short-lived when he hisses out, “it won’t hurt you to relax for a minute. Spend an hour in there. Have a few drinks, shake that ass. We both know you could use it.”
I growl, “twenty minutes, fucker.” I slip out of the vehicle, slamming the door behind me. This SUV is Remy’s baby. If I could’ve slammed it any harder I would’ve. I hear him slightly scream, erasing the smirk off my face getting closer to the club.
I’ll admit it does draw me in. The ambiance surrounded by the darkness outside. The lights are barely lit but enough for women to feel safe.
I turn to go into the alley, where Remy couldn’t fit the car. The club made it this way. There are two huge trash cans blocking half of the exits on either side of the alleyway. This is far safer for the club and the inhabitants inside.
I keep my mind and thoughts open as I continue to walk through the alley. I hear rats and insects milling about but no other human voices. It smells of rotten eggs and multiple drunks slowly pursuing their deaths.
I’m wearing all black. My tailored suit is a skin hugging silk that set me back fifteen grand. With my loafers, I’m ready to blend in to the darkness of this intriguing club. I can tell why it’s the most popular one in Boston.
I knock twice on the back door just as I was told to do. It swings outward in a rush. The bouncer manning the area looks like he’s going to rip me a new one, before he sees the wad of cash in my hand. One grand to get me into the back door unnoticed, was the deal.
The guy gives me a nod, looking down the alley both ways as he grabs the money and moves back to let me in. No words need to be said or exchanged. This man keeps his distance and his eyes adverted.
I’ve been told more than once that I’m compared to nightmares. The things parents tell their rambunctious children to get them to be obedient and go to bed at night. I’m faceless. Nameless. I am deadly, dangerous, a nightmare, I am theReaper.
This job was predominantly on the lower end of the pay scale, but I still agreed to do it. “Hey baby,” is purred in my direction. I walked by a group of very drunk women, not bad looking, either. I angle myself back, out of the way. I don’t appreciate being grabbed or touched. I give them a nod and keep moving.
The woman I’m looking for is a fucking cunt. I growl as I walk through, letting everybody know I’m not interested, it works. She earns her money by sleeping around and then when her victims are coming down from a euphoric high and not watching, not caring because you finally got yourself a piece of the pie, she fucking drains everything, then she’s gone.
The music starts to bump, the lyrics are low as the bass takes over. It’s very inviting to let loose, if only for a half an hour.
Several victims have put whatever resources they could find together and hired me. The way this woman, a gorgeous blonde bombshell, looks, I’m not shocked to see all the damage she’s done.
I’m in work mode, I no longer look inviting. The expression I have plastered on my face is to stay the fuck away. Men know to do this, unless they’re looking for a quick fight. I’ll win.
I even researched the owner of this new club to make sure he wasn’t a problem, he isn’t. I’ve seen him around, walking, he notices me out of the corner of his eye but he leaves me alone and I ignore him. I’ve never met one club owner that’s decent.
I usually get at least one dick-bag, a douche that wants to take on the bigger guy. To prove some shit, even if he gets his ass kicked. The next morning he can spit, ‘at least my drunk ass tried.’ Everyone wants to see if they can outshine the fuckingReaper.
My dick stands to attention as a woman flows right in front of me. Delicate, surreal and absolutely breathtaking, the way she sashays her hips has my dick jumping for joy. I maneuver away, barely stopping from knocking her over.
She smiles, moving closer to me, moving her hips and before I know it, she’s wrapped around me, dancing. Remy would be howling with delight if he saw me right now. This woman has got some fucking moves. Maybe I do need this, to relax.
I yank her body to mine, her soft, silky curves that press into me feel so god damn fucking good. It won’t hurt just for a few minutes. Neither one of us saying anything.
My leg wedges in between hers, rubbing against her in tune with the beat. I have no clue who’s even singing but it’s catchy.
“Fuck,” I growl to myself as I back off, giving her a wink and shaking my head no. The woman knows I’m trying to leave. I am here to work.
“Not yet,” she purrs. Her voice is intoxicating, sweet like honey. This bitch grabs my arm and drags me down the hall to an area that has more standalone bathrooms.
Work can wait for a few minutes, I agree with myself as I watch her voluptuous ass move in front of me. I have blueprints of this joint. I like to know where everything is, I know exactly where she’s going. I see no problem with a small break.
I watch her ass, tight and ripe, glide in this silk dress that she’s wearing. I’m not the only one that watches, several clubbers, especially men, can’t take their eyes off of her. They’ll be doing what I’m about to do, whacking off to her image, but at least I get the real thing.
She bypasses the standalone bathrooms and opens a door into a small storage closet. Most likely for the janitor or the cleaning crew. A light is flicked on in the corner. But I don’t give her much of a chance as I grab her and slam her against the wall. With little effort, lifting her body up at the same time, I’m able to get my dick out of my slacks, and slap on a condom within fucking seconds. I’ve mastered this fucking issue over the years.
