“How’s the drink?” he asked, and I gave him a hesitant smile.
“Really good, actually,” I replied quietly, and the corner of his mouth twitched up.
“I’m glad you like it.”
“So… you’re actually letting me have a day off tomorrow?” I asked, hoping he wouldn’t change his mind and somehow make me work someone else’s shift.
He smirked at me and nodded. “Well, kind of. We’ll meet here in the morning to do all the stupid shit Raf wants us to do so you don’t get in trouble. Then I guess I’ll let you take the afternoon off.”
“How kind of you.” I rolled my eyes, and he raised an eyebrow, though the side of his mouth was still curled at the corner.
“Careful, deathtrap,” he warned, just as Shem slid into the chair next to me.
“Barkeep!” he shouted jovially. “One raunchy fucking margarita, please, on the rocks!”
Reaver grinned at him and shook his head before going to make his drink. Shem spun to face me, giving me a wink.
“So, tell me everything, Lil. Are you a woman on the lam? How many have you killed? Did you rob a bank?” he asked, his eyes shining with mirth and mischief.
I just laughed and took another sip of my Hauntini. Shem somehow had a way of making even serious situations seem light and manageable. Sitting with him at the bar while Reaver served us drinks made me feel like I was normal for the first time in my life. Part of me was holding my breath, waiting for the other shoe to drop. However, a small part of me was warm, happy, and hopeful that maybe, just maybe, Death would let me have this one small piece of happiness.
“I’m not the one who’s gonna die, honey. I’m the one who’s gonna live.”
—LOUISE, THELMA & LOUISE
Reaver wouldn’t let me leave until he was done with his shift. He told me I could wait until he drove me home, or he would make me work every one of his shifts for the next month. So naturally, I waited for him. Shem left a few hours before closing with a yawn.
“I have to open tomorrow. It’s going to be boring without you two around to spice things up. Later, Thelma.” He saluted me as he left, and I shook my head, not sure if I was hating the serial killer jokes or if I thought they were morbidly hilarious.
Sara finished her shift and sat down with me for the last few hours before closing. She smiled at me and thanked me for helping her out the night before.
“Have you heard from him since?” I asked, genuinely wondering. It wasn’t like my demon to slack this hard on killing the people around me. She shook her head, and my heart rate increased.
“I thought for sure he would be waiting for me when I got home,” she said with a frown. “I even called one of my friends to meet me there just in case he showed up, but he didn’t. He hasn’t texted or called either. It’s superweird.”
I felt the corner of my mouth twitch up but didn’t ask any more about it. Maybe my Reaper hadn’t been as quiet as it had appeared. I was suddenly sure John was dead in a ditch somewhere. They just hadn’t found the body yet.
Reaver appeared after finishing his cash out in the office with Rafael and yanked me away from Sara, shooting her a glare. She frowned, confused at his sudden hostile behavior. I laughed.
“See, I told you he was a douchebag,” I muttered, not caring that Reaver was next to me and could clearly hear me.
He grabbed my arm and dragged me away, putting his mouth close to my ear. “Careful, deathtrap,” he purred. I shivered, but I allowed him to strong-arm me out of the restaurant and to his car.
He opened the passenger-side door for me, and I sighed, getting in. I jumped as he leaned over and literally buckled my seatbelt for me.
“Reaver, what the fuck? I’m not five years old. I can do up my own seatbelt,” I snapped as he clicked it into place. He paused with one hand on the buckle and the other on the back of my seat. He was so close I was swimming in his signature funeral home scent. Slowly, he turned his head to face me. The tip of his nose brushed against mine and I inhaled the spearmint on his breath.
My heart was suddenly in my throat, and I couldn’t breathe. His eyes met mine, and I watched as his gaze dropped to my mouth before flicking back up.
“What part ofyou’re mine,do you not understand?” he whispered, his lips were so close they were nearly touching mine. “If I want to buckle your seatbelt, I fucking will. If I want to spoon-feed you all your fucking meals, I will. You belong to me. I own you.” He growled, and I shivered under the intensity of his words.
“I’m a person, Reaver, not some plaything. You can’t hold this job over my head forever. When the quarterly review is over, you won’t have anything on me anymore.”
He chuckled and hovered half an inch closer. We shared a breath before he smirked and pulled away.
“We’ll see about that, deathtrap.”
Then he slammed the door shut.
