Chapter Nine

Holly

"Someone's in a good mood today."

I look up just in time to catch Kate sliding into the seat across from mine. She sets a small plate with a piece of chocolate cake on the table between us, and my eyes narrow at her.

"Are you talking about me or you, and why the hell do you have a chocolate cake on your plate? They don't sell that here."

She flashes me a grin before nodding past my shoulder. I turn around and find the cute doctor trying and failing to pretend he's not staring at my friend. "He is the reason for the smile on my face and the cake too."

"When did that happen?"

"Yesterday," she says smugly, digging a fork into the cake before lifting a bite to her mouth. "I was leaving work yesterday after my shift, and I was too tired to drive and was thinking of taking the bus. He saw the state I was in and offered to drive me home."

"And you said yes?"

"Of course, I said yes," she replies excitedly. "We drove to my place, and I invited him inside for some coffee."

"But you hate coffee," I say, using my salad fork to steal a bite of the cake, humming when the it practically melts in my mouth. "This is good cake."

"I know. He says he made it last night and brought it for me to try. Apparently, he likes to bake to relax. Ugh, I already have the names of our future kids picked out. We're going to attempt to make some babies this weekend." Her eyes shift from the man she's ogling over my shoulder back to me. "So, am I to assume I am not the only one who had a good time last night with a handsome devil?"

My cheeks flush, and I'm suddenly more invested in her chocolate cake than our conversation.

"I don't know what you're talking about."

"Oh, c'mon, don't be a prude. Tell me everything. I need details." Much to her dismay, I flash her a smile, and without saying another word, grab my salad plate and get up to leave. "Hey, I shared my chocolate cake with you. Don't leave me hanging."

I wave and leave to dispose of my leftovers, but we both know she'll pry the truth out of me before the end of our shift. My grin stays with me until I finish my shift at eight, I am excited to get home and see Reaper. Heck, even my grumpy supervisor couldn't dampen my good mood.

I find myself still smiling alone on the bus, feeling like one of those characters in romcom movies. I'm so happy, I don't even mind taking the bus. Reaper had wanted to give me a ride, but he had to go to the clubhouse to check in before I left for my shift. He still wasn't done when I was finished with my shift, but had texted to say he'd meet me at home.

My heart hammers in anticipation when I step off the bus at my stop, skipping the rest of the way home. It occurs to me as I walk that now that my mortgage is paid—which I still can't quite believe—I can afford start driving my aunt's car again. It'll need a tune-up first, but I bet Reaper can help me with that.

I am tired from the day, and with everything that's happened this week, I could use the rest of the weekend to relax, and I can't wait to spend the next three nights with Reaper before I have to go back to work on Monday.

The smile on my face only widens when I notice the bike parked outside my house. Reaper must have gotten home while I was on the bus. I have no idea why he wouldn't take it into the garage, I already gave him a key so he wouldn't have to break into my home anymore. Not that he did in the first place, really. He'd given me quite the lecture about making sure I lock all the doors before leaving from now on.

I give the bike a loving pat before skipping the rest of the way to the front door. I don't bother using my key to get in, as I assume he left the door open for me, and true enough, it's not locked. I let myself into the house, surprised when I find it dark. I expected to find Reaper sprawled on the couch, watching TV or something, but it's eerily silent.

"Reaper?" I call out, not completely freaked out but a little alarmed. If this is his way of scaring me, it's not funny. I thought I told him that I hate jump scares since a childhood incident of falling down the stairs when my parents hid and surprised me on my birthday. I ended up with only a broken wrist, but I've been extra jumpy since then. "I saw your bike outside. I know you're home."

I wait for his deep chuckle to come from somewhere in the house, but nothing. I hug my bag close and walk deeper into the house. "Okay, Reaper, this is not funny."

I start down the hall, but I don't even make it far before someone grabs me from behind, and I feel something press hard to my side. "I've been waiting all fucking day for someone to show up to this goddamned house," an unfamiliar voice hisses into my ear, and a cold shiver runs down my back. His voice is deep and menacing, and it makes my blood freeze.

Christ, is this a robbery? What are the chances this would happen my first day back to work since finding Reaper in my bathroom.

"I don't have any money," I whisper shakily, and it's the truth. The man could search the whole house and would be lucky to find a few quarters in the couch cushions.

"You think I want money?" he spits out, grabbing my shoulder and shoving me toward the couch. I study the man in the dim lighting, and he seems to be in his late forties or early fifties. "Where the fuck is Reaper?"

"Who?"

"Don't play stupid with me, girl," he hisses, pointing a gun at my face. "I have been looking for that son of a bitch for days. He and his brothers thought they could get away with running us out of town. They only managed to take out the weakest of us. We are far from done. Now I know he was here. We followed his brothers here last night."

"Bikers are everywhere these days, huh?" I chuckle nervously, fighting the need to smack my head. This is not the time for wisecracks. Heck, I'm the least funny person I know, and yet, having a gun pointed at my face has me on the edge of hysteria.

"Talk, or I plant a bullet in your head."

He's serious. I can see it in his eyes and read it in his voice. This man will shoot me without hesitation if I don't give him what he wants, but . . . I have nothing to tell him. When Reaper left this morning, he just told me that he had business to take care of at the clubhouse and would be back later in the evening. He didn't tell me where the clubhouse is. Not that I would tell this psycho where he is even if I knew.

"I-I don't know," I say honestly. "Please don't kill me. I don't know anything. He didn't tell me where he was going or when he would be back."

"I'll give you one more chance to change your answer."

My eyes widen in alarm. "I . . . I don't . . . He just left. I don't know," I whisper, curling into myself on the couch and closing my eyes so I don't see him shoot me.

I wonder if it will hurt.

I have tended to many people with gunshot wounds in the time I have worked as a nurse but this is the closest I have ever been to experiencing violence.

Maybe it won't hurt at all, and it'll be over quickly. Will I have flashes of the lives I have lived, perhaps see memories I shared with Aunt Meg and . . . Reaper.

Christ, I just found love. Why does it have to be wrenched from my hands so violently and so soon?

"You unhelpful bitch, I'll kill you then find him myself. I'm sure he'll come back here looking for you eventually."

A gunshot rings out, and I scream, bracing myself for pain that doesn't come. Did he miss? I don't dare open my eyes to look, and when another one rings out, I flinch, but still nothing happens.

Right after the second shot, I am quickly engulfed in strong arms and catch the familiar masculine scent of the man I love.

"Are you okay, angel? Did he hurt you?"

Reaper"s voice pulls me back to the present, and everything starts to sink into my terrified brain. "W-what happened?"

"It's okay, you're okay," Reaper whispers soothingly, drawing me into his chest and wrapping his arms tightly around me, putting one hand on the back of my head so it stays in place when I try to look past his shoulder.

"The man . . . d-did you shoot him?"

"You don't have to worry about him, angel. Don't look," he says, but he doesn't need to be worried about protecting me from this. I am a nurse and have seen plenty of gunshot wounds. Despite what he meant to do to me, if he's injured, I am obligated to help him. I tell Reaper as much, but he shakes his head. "He's gone. I've never missed a shot, baby."

He's never missed a shot . . .

Does that mean he's done this more than once?

I have so many questions, but before I know it, I am being whisked away and down the hall. He doesn't let go of me even when we walk into my bedroom.

"Reaper, wait."

He stops my protests, dropping his forehead to mine, and I can practically feel his body vibrate against mine. "God, I could have lost you," he whispers shakily, giving me pause. "I never miss when I shoot, always on point, but when I saw him pointing the gun at you . . . I just . . . I couldn't stop at one shot."

"Reaper . . ."

"You're everything," he says, brushing his lips needily against mine, almost desperate. "I can't fucking lose you!"

"I'm fine."

I lift my hands to his jaw, hoping my touch can assure him that I'm here and I'm okay, but he seems too far gone to react to any comfort.

"I love you," he says fervently as he drops his mouth to the slope of my neck, licking at my pulse point and sending a shiver through my body. "I can't imagine a life without you, angel. I wouldn't know how to fucking go on."

He sounds desperate, and his voice matches his actions. The way he runs his hands possessively over my body, as if to assure himself that I am unhurt, has liquid heat building up in my core. His body is drawn taut with tension even as he undoes me with his touch, and I want to comfort him, but I can't gather my thoughts long enough to do so.

"Reaper," I gasp when he slides his hands into my scrubs and past the waistband of my panties, his calloused fingers grazing my sex. I wrap my arms around his shoulders as a whimper slips out when he starts massaging the sensitive bud with his thick digit. I rock my hips against him as my arousal grows with every tease of his finger. My head falls back when his face drops back to my neck. I dig my fingers into his shoulders when he slips the thick middle digit into my pulsing sex. "Oh, fuck. Wait. What about that man? We need to call the police."

Reaper pulls back enough to meet my eyes. "No police, baby. I sent a message the second I saw his bike outside to Priest and Knight. They're on their way with a couple of the guys to take care of him." He obviously notices my unease because he asks, "Trust me? Please? I know this is hard for you, but I need you to trust me to do what's best."

I look into his eyes for a moment and think about everything that's happened. Despite my better judgment, I do trust Reaper. So, with a nod, I pull him to me again.

His tense shoulders sag in relief. "You're mine. It's my job to take care of you," he growls into my neck, licking the smooth column as he adds, sliding another finger inside me with the middle one, and does something with them that has me jerking against him. I have no idea what fucking sweet spot he touched, but I am arching into his touch and riding his fingers, whining desperately when he draws his hand away.

Reaper shoves my scrub pants down to my ankles before spinning me around so I am facing the wall. My sex trembles in anticipation as I wait for him to unzip his jeans and take out his erection, whimpering when I feel his shaft prod my pulsing sex.

"You are so fucking wet, angel. Need to feel you wrapped around my cock," he says gruffly, burying his fingers in my hair and guiding me to arch my back before pushing his thickness slowly into my sex. So fucking slow, it makes my toes curl with pleasure, and just like that, I forget everything but the precious moment this man is gifting me. I whimper as he sinks his shaft inside me, kissing the back of my neck as he does so.

"Oh, Reaper," I cry out when his free hand finds my clit, rubbing the sensitive bud in light circles as he pumps into me from the behind, slowly at first before his drives become rough. I rise on tiptoes to meet his thrusts when something seems to snap in him, and he starts rocking into me in hard drives. I claw the wallpaper as he rams into me from behind, grunting roughly as he kisses my neck, and I feel more than hear his moans.

My knees shake as he ruts me against my bedroom wall, our cries echoing through the room. The finger on my clit moves to match his thrusts, rubbing faster and harder until I am practically sobbing with the need for release.

Christ, this is embarrassing. The way I crave this man and his touch is insane. And to think that just a few days ago, I had not even shared my first kiss with anyone, and now, I am begging for him to give me pleasure that only he can.

Only him.

I will only ever belong to this man. Whatever happens, Reaper is my forever.

"So close, baby," he pants into my ear, driving into my sex faster and harder until a bolt of lightning shoots through my body. I orgasm with a scream, my sex convulsing wildly around his cock even as stars explode behind my eyelids from the climax. Reaper's thrusts lose their rhythm, his fingers pulling my hair as he stills a second before he orgasms with a harsh growl. His body shakes against mine as he spills his seed into my womb, and I milk him of every drop until he falls against me in exhaustion, bracing his weight with one arm against the wall.

The sound of our harsh breathing fills the room, broken when he leans in and brushes his lips across my nape. "You're fine," he rasps, more to himself than to me. "You're okay. I'll protect you, angel. You're mine now. Forever." I don't get to say a word in return as he quickly spins me around and cradles me in his massive arms. "I love you, Holly."

I stand speechless, letting this man love me in a way I never thought was possible. We don't break from the embrace until we catch the sound of sirens, and I stiffen against him as fear rocks my body and reality comes crashing in. The neighbors must've called the cops after hearing the shots.

Oh, God. Reaper shot someone. I mean, the man was going to shoot me first, but still . . .

What if he goes to prison? He can't be with me if he's locked behind bars.

"Reaper, the cops . . ."

"I'll take care of it," he whispers, leaning down to kiss my forehead. "I love you, Holly. I plan on sticking by your side for the rest of our lives. You've taken care of me before, now it's my turn to take care of you."

"But . . ."

"Trust me, remember? Priest and Knight should be here by now. We'll deal with the cops. Now that you are mine, you belong to the Steel Order MC and don't need to ever worry about anything. Okay? Trust me."

I nod, but there is no settling the nerves that rock my body when he leaves me in the bedroom to go deal with the cops. I expect someone to bust into the room any second, demanding I recount the incident, but when the bedroom door opens next, it's Reaper and he looks relaxed.

"Pack a few of your things. We need to go," he says, and my eyes widen in horror.

"Are we running away? Are we going to be fugitives?" I mean, as insane as it sounds, I would follow this man anywhere. Christ, how much my attitude has changed from the way Aunt Meg raised me to be. But Reaper simply shakes his head with a chuckle.

"I'm taking you to the clubhouse. We'll stay there until the cops are done and the house has been cleaned. I want to show you my world."

My eyes fill with tears at his words. "Really?"

"Yes," he says, cupping my jaw and dropping his forehead against mine. "Then first thing Monday, I'm taking you to the courthouse and making you my wife."

I nod tearfully, loving every word he's saying. Feeling lucky that this man stumbled into my life when he did.

"I love you, Reaper."