Page 46 of Reaper

She got a call the other day that her normal therapist, Dr. Remington, had to go out of town for a family emergency and one of her colleagues was going to fill in for her, Dr. Ashcroft. I was over at her friend Khloe’s place when she got the phone call. Her face had turned so pale I was afraid she was going to faint. Despite Lark’s worries about Dr. Ashcroft, Dr. Remington convinced her to try at least one session with him because he’s the only other therapist here in Junction Creek that works with trauma patients. She’d have to travel to a different city if it didn’t work out with him.

I’ve never met Dr. Ashcroft, who is apparently new to town, but from what little Lark has told me, I’m already not a fan.

I check my phone, again, for what seems like the twentieth time in the past five minutes. Exhaling, I tuck it back in my pocket when I don’t see any new messages.

Refocusing, I get back to work, prying the caliper open and remove the old brake pads. Placing them on my toolbox, I remove the caliper and prop it up so that the brake line doesn’t get damaged. Grabbing the breaker bar, I’m about to loosen the bolts for the caliper bracket when my phone buzzes and I damn near drop my phone in my haste to get it out of my pocket.

Lark: I need you

“Fuck fuck fuck fuck,” I curse as I quickly wipe off my hands and grab my cut off my bench before texting her back.

Reaper: On my way

“Mark, I’ll be back later. Have one of the guys finish this up for me,” I holler over my shoulder to one of my most trusted guys in the garage as I head toward the back exit. He climbs out from under theDodgehe’s working on and gets up, wiping the grease off his hands.

“Sure thing, Boss.”

Mark’s been around long enough that he’s used to me popping out for things regarding the club or my family, but I still hate when I have to do it because it leaves them in a bit of a lurch. But then again, that’s part of why I pay them what I do since I never know when I’ll need to pop out during work hours.

Getting in my truck, I damn near peel out of the lot and onto the main drag. I clench my jaw as scenario after scenario runs through my head for what could have set Lark off. She’s told me about her nightmares and while I’ve tried to help her, I wish there was more I could do for her in regards to them.

A few minutes later, my truck screeches to a halt and I jump out, slamming my door shut as I run into the therapist’s office and open the door leading to the inner hallway.

“Sir, sir! You can’t be back here,” the receptionist tries to tell me as she squeezes past me and blocks my way.

“My woman’s having a panic attack and texted me that she needs me,” I grit out as I point down the hallway. “Now, are you going to let me through so I can help pull her out of it or am I moving you out of the way?”

She hesitates for a moment as she eyes my cut, but thankfully she steps aside. “Just please try to keep your voice down so that the other patients aren’t disturbed. Do you know where you’re going?”

“Dr. Ashcroft, Lark said the offices are all labeled,” I say as I pass her.

“Down the hall and turn left at the corner,” she tells me. I nod, letting her know I heard her.

My gaze scans all the offices as I stalk in the direction the receptionist told me and when I reach Dr. Ashcroft’s, I don’t even knock and walk right in.

“Who the hell are you? Get out of here. This is a private office. You cannot just stroll in here whenever you want,” doctor dickhead rants at me, but I tune him out as I kneel down in front of Lark. I place my hands on the couch on either side of her, not touching her just yet.

“Darlin’, I’m here. I’m here, Baby.”

Lark sniffles and when she looks up, I can see her knuckles are white as she grips her phone so hard I’m surprised it hasn’t broken yet. Her eyes are haunted and full of pain. I want to beat the shit out of this dickhead for making her feel like this.

“R-Reaper?”

“Yeah, Darlin’, I’m here.”

“You cannot be in here! This is a private appointment. Leave!”

I turn on my heel and glare at him. Instantly, I see what Lark had mentioned and judging by the gleam in his eyes, he was getting off on her pain. Fuck, with how he’s standing, I can see the outline of his dick in his trousers. The fucker was enjoying this so much he got hard off it. Though, since he isn’t tenting his pants, he must be wearing some sort of clothing or even tape to keep his erection as hidden as possible.

“Listen here, doctor dickhead. I don’t give a fuck who you are or how many letters are after your name. Something you said triggered my woman to have a panic attack. She texted me that she needed me and I am going to make sure she’s taken care of, so you can get off your fucking high horse, you fucking weasel.”

Turning back toward Lark, I take her phone out of her hands and slip it into my pocket. Grabbing her water bottle, I place it in her hands and make sure she has a hold of her purse. Carefully, so as not to cause her pain with her burns, I pick her up and cradle her in my arms as I drape her coat over her. “Let’s get you out of here, Darlin’.”

Turning, I’m about to leave when I realize doctor dickhead is now blocking the door, his arms crossed across his chest as he glares at me.

“Put her down now!” He grits out, his jaw clenched tight. “Her session is not over and if anyone will be pulling her out of a panic attack, it will be a professional, not some biker scum.”

I narrow my eyes at him as Lark whimpers and curls into my chest more.