He chuckles. “You see things differently. The societal norms. Nothing about us is normal. Don’t try to understand the men in this MC because you most likely never will. Accept them for who they are.”
“I do, but... Bomber seems so... I thought a woman could improve his mood.”
Reaper’s arm comes around me, pulling me into him. “Bomber is directly responsible for the club’s security and safety. There’s a story about why he is the way he is, but I can’t share it with you. I can say that it contributed to why he takes his job seriously.”
“It’s bad, isn’t it?” I ask.
“Our experiences shape who we are today. Every member of the MC has a story, and, yes, most of us have gone through a traumatic experience. Some people meet the devil and come back to earth still swinging.”
I couldn’t agree more. “I’ve met the devil.” My shoulders slump. “His name is Beau.”
“If he’s the devil, I’d die to be cast to him, to show him exactly what hell is.” Reaper’s voice crackles with anger, a reminder of his darker side, the soldier who needs to protect everyone he cares about.
I sit up. “You know about my past. Can you tell me more about yours?”
Something flashes across his face, but I wasn’t sure what it was. “What do you want to know?”
Excitement buzzes inside of me at getting to know Reaper. “I have so many, but let’s start simple. Do you have any siblings?”
He slowly nods. “A sister.”
“What about your parents? Do you still talk to them?”
“I don’t know where they are. My last memory of them was when me and my sister were taken away from them and placed into foster care.”
“I’m sorry,” I reply, feeling bad for them.
He shrugs. “No need to be sorry. It was a long time ago, and we turned out fine.”
“Do you talk to your foster parents?”
“No, but they weren’t bad people. They did their best. Sherrie and Larry took on five foster kids of different ages. Sherrie worked two jobs and got money from the government for looking after us, and her partner, Larry, stayed home.”
I pull my hair over my shoulder and rake my fingers through it as I think about what else to ask. “What made you want to join the army?”
He let out an exasperated sigh. “Everything.”
“What do you mean by that?”
“Larry watched the news every night, and most of the time I watched it with him. Every day, they talked about violence, war, and terrorists, and as I got older, I wanted to help and do something about it.”
I lean up and place a soft kiss on his cheek. “You’re a good person.”
His face goes blank, and a shiver racks my body. It was as if I saw his soul leave his eyes. “Don’t get me confused and put me on a pedestal. I killed who they ordered me to kill. I never asked questions about who they were or what they had done.”
A coldness solidifies his voice, and it makes me frown. I didn’t mean to upset him. “You have a past, but my feelings about you won’t change.”
He looks away, and that familiar fire returns to my stomach. When I sit up, his eyes return. “Why don’t you believe me?” I’m annoyed and saddened. “You risked your life to go to war for your country.”
He sits up with his back against the headboard. His pained expression nearly levels me. “I’ve killed a woman before.”
I pause, but he would not kill for no reason. “Why?”
He hangs his head, then rubs down his face, and the Reaper I know is back. I crawl over and straddle his legs. I grasp his face, feeling the prickles of his beard on my fingers. I lift his head to make him look at me. The torment in his eyes is palpable. I blink a few times, holding back tears; it hurts me to see him in pain, but I know it’s my turn to be strong. “Please, share with me what happened.”
His eyes close briefly before he speaks. “With all my training, nothing could have prepared me for war. Every day was death and destruction. But I’ll never forget killing that young woman. She wore a coat that looked too big for her, and I thought she had a bomb under it.” His voice cracks as sadness falls from his lips and regret fills his eyes.
Reaper’s face blurs. “Why did she have a bomb strapped to her?”
