“Oh my God,” Rachel said.
Terror swept her face for a half-second, but it was quickly replaced by something…stoic. She masked that fear as well as I’d ever seen anyone. It made it difficult for me to know how she was truly feeling, but maybe that was the point.
I probably shouldn’t have told her that bit, but then again, she was probably bound to learn sooner or later anyway.
“You need to stay inside for the foreseeable future,” I warned. “This town is about to dissolve into some messy shit. I don’t need to tell you what a cop-killer is capable of.”
“I understand,” she said.
More than anyone else, she did. I didn’t have to worry about some bullshit “strong woman” nonsense where someone did something irrational for the sake of appearing tough when it was anything but tough.
“If you need anything, and I mean literally anything, you call me or one of the other Black Reapers and have us do it for you,” I said, “and I don’t care if that means you’re craving Wendy’s at midnight or if you need to go and get one thing at the grocery store. These guys will remember you if they see you, and—”
I stopped. Rachel had bowed her head.
“Do they know you live here?”
“I don’t think so, but I ran into Eduardo at the same grocery store I saw you and Brock at. He most definitely remembers me.”
Motherfucker.
I mean, it wasn’t much of a stretch to guess the beautiful woman before me was Rachel Reid. It wasn’t like she’d dyed her hair a different color or made a significant weight change. But still…
I had to remind myself that if hope was my strategy, hoping that the Bandits didn’t recognize Rachel when she went out into public, well, that was a damn good way to get myself in a shitload of trouble.
“All the more reason you need to stay low and not step a fucking inch outside the door without our protection,” I said. “You good?”
She nodded.
“If we don’t answer, you don’t leave. Plain and simple.”
I felt I had said all I needed to say, so I turned around and headed to the door.
“Mason!”
I hesitated at the door. I never did well with goodbyes or see you agains. Most of the time, I didnotwant to see the person who said goodbye. It’s not like we were a sentimental bunch amongst ourselves, and it wasn’t like the girls we hooked up with were usually worth saying see you later to.
I turned, not sure exactly what to say. Rachel just came up and planted a slow, gentle kiss on my lips.
I couldn’t lie; it felt off. I understood we’d almost just fucked, and I knew it was deeper than just getting my cock off, but…I was in a fucking mood right now. I had no space for romance or emotions or any of that nonsense. I had a fucking job to do.
“I know you have to go take care of things, but text me from time to time.”
“I’ll do my best.”
She and I both knew that meant I wouldn’t ever be texting. It wasn’t anything against Rachel. If anything, it showed how much I cared about her.
If I had her on my mind at all when things would be at their hottest with the Bandits, I could not function properly in the club. It was no different than a soldier who goes to war and hides the photos of his family. There would be a time and place to be sentimental and sweet.
This was most certainly not fucking it.
I didn’t give Rachel a chance to say another word or kiss me one more time as I slid out her door, shut it behind me, and hurried to my bike. I heard her door open as if she was going to stand outside to watch me go. If not for the fact I was already far away, I would have told her to go back the fuck inside.
But I didn’t worry about her individually as much as I did her getting swept up—along with the rest of this town—in the violence all but guaranteed to ensue.
Keeping the violence between us was one thing. Killing the fucking sheriff wasn’t even in the same category of deranged.
* * *
