Page 40 of Reaper & the Lioness (Lone Star Mavericks MC #1)

Chapter Thirty-One

I threw off the covers and opened the bedroom door just as Reaper had reached for the handle. My relief morphed into anger, concern, and frustration.

His jeans were torn and caked with dried blood, and a white bandage was visible through the rip. His face looked drawn, dark circles under his eyes speaking of exhaustion and pain.

“What the actual fuck?” I demanded. “What happened?”

“Long night. Shit went a bit sideways.”

My temper exploded. “That’s all you’re going to fucking give me?”

He moved past me into the bedroom, and I noticed his limp.

“It’s nothing. You should go back to sleep.”

“Like hell I will. You’re hurt. You’ve been shot again, haven’t you?”

Reaper sighed as he sank onto the edge of the bed. “Yes, I was shot. It went all the way through. Didn’t hit anything vital. Doc patched me up before I came home.”

“What kind of club business involves you getting shot in the middle of the night?”

I stood in front of him, my arms crossed on my chest. His eyes flashed with irritation.

“This is my responsibility as VP. Sometimes it gets messy.”

“Who the fuck shot you?”

“The Rangers’ president.”

Rage coursed through me. “That motherfucker. I’ll kill him myself!”

“You’re too late. I already did.”

“Damn it. This is exactly why I wanted you to tell me what you were planning this morning. You could have died tonight, and I wouldn’t have known a damn thing about it!”

He ran a hand over his exhausted face. “I didn’t even think to tell you. I’ve never had to do this before. Sometimes, I don’t even think about the danger myself.”

“Well, you’d better start thinking about it,” I snapped, but some of the fight had left me. “I deserve to know when you’re in the line of fire.”

Reaper nodded as he reached to take my hand. I let him, despite my lingering anger.

“You’re right. I need to do better. But there are some things I can’t share. Not won’t—can’t. For your safety and for the club’s.”

“I can’t be kept completely in the dark. I need to know when you’re in real danger. Not every detail, but enough to know what I’m dealing with. Enough to not be blindsided when this happens.”

“Fair. You have to understand that this life … it’s not always black and white. Sometimes, the less you know, the better.”

I jabbed a finger into his chest. “I’m not some delicate fucking flower that needs to be shielded from the realities of what you do as a Maverick. I can handle more than you think.”

Reaper’s arm wrapped around me. He pulled me close despite my half-hearted resistance.

“I know you’re strong. This isn’t about that. It’s about keeping you safe. About not causing unnecessary fear and anxiety.”

“What about keeping my heart safe? I’ve already lost my mother and Jace. The fear of the unknown is worse.”

The memories of losing my mother and big brother sent a sharp stab of grief through me. Reaper stiffened as he considered my request, and his eyes softened as he gazed at me with love and empathy.

“I promise to tell you what I can. But you have to promise me you won’t push for details I can’t give you.”

“I can live with that. As long as you’re honest with me about the big stuff. Like, oh, I don’t know … getting fucking shot?”

He grinned. “Deal.”

“Let’s get you cleaned up.” I guided him toward the bathroom. “Pants off.”

He raised a brow at me suggestively, and I laughed. “You’re not getting in bed covered in blood. I’m going to help you clean up. Nothing more. You’re injured.”

Reaper ran his hands down the thin tank top I wore. My nipples pebbled at his touch, and I smacked his hand away.

“I’m still mad at you. Now, fucking take your pants off so you can come to bed.”

Reaper complied, sliding his ripped and bloody jeans to the floor before sitting on the toilet seat. With a hot washcloth, I wiped the dried blood from his leg.

“Exactly how often are you dodging bullets? Or failing to dodge bullets?” I glanced up at him, trying to sound firm, but a slight shake in my tone gave away my fear.

“Every so often. Less than when I was a Marine, if that helps.”

My eyes narrowed at his evasion. “It doesn’t. I know that being a Maverick is dangerous sometimes. I need to know what I’m signing up for. Am I playing nurse weekly? Monthly? A few times a year? You’ve been shot twice since we met barely a month ago.”

“Hmm, I quite like the idea of you playing nurse. Can you wear the little outfit?”

His attempt to defuse the discussion ignited anger in me. His focus on some juvenile fantasy rather than addressing my very real concerns felt not only disappointing but outright infuriating.

“I’m being fucking serious here.” I squeezed my hand over his bandaged wound with just enough pressure to remind him of the pain. He winced. “My bedside manner will get worse if you don’t take this conversation seriously. You promised you would be honest with me.”

As I knelt before him, tears pricked in my eyes in frustration.

I stood to turn away to hide the welling emotion, but he pulled me back to face him.

“I’ve taken five gunshots since joining the Mavericks.

One to my vest when I was an enforcer. A graze on my side, and another to the vest when I was sergeant at arms. And two this month. ”

I bit my lip as I considered how each close call could have taken him from me.

“The Rangers agreed to a truce. They know we’re bigger and badder, and their new president will keep them out of Houston. The war is over.”

I stood, allowing him to use me as leverage to do the same, and helped him limp to the bed. As we settled in, I turned to face him, my expression serious.

“I need you to understand something. I love you, and I need to know when you’re walking into danger. I can’t be left wondering if you’re coming home every time you leave. Can you promise me that?”

He stayed quiet for a moment. “I can’t promise you there won’t be danger.

I can’t promise you I’ll always walk away without a mark.

But I swear to you, I’ll never keep you in the dark again.

” Reaper pulled me closer, and his lips brushed my forehead.

“I love you, my Lioness. You deserve the truth—even when it scares the hell out of me.”

I stood in a kaleidoscope of terror and pain.

My mom’s shrieks echoed through our old house. The grunt of her husband pounding the chef’s knife through her chest and belly sounded through the kitchen.

I wanted to get to her, but the hallway stretched before me. I tried to run, but my feet were cemented to the ground.

Suddenly, Hale’s face loomed above me on the cold concrete of a parking garage. His fists were everywhere, his hand around my throat as he suffocated me. I tried to scream, but no sound came out. I tried to fight back, but I stayed frozen in place.

The scene shifted, and I sat bound in a dark room, every predator I’ve ever known surrounding me. Then, Reaper stood before me. I called out to him in a warning and screamed. Bullets blasted through his chest.

“Eva, wake up. You’re okay.”

I jolted awake and gasped for air. Sweat soaked through my tank top and pillowcase. My ears rang with memories of my mom’s screams. My body ached, both in memory of Hale’s attack and from the hits he’d delivered the day before.

Reaper’s strong hands gripped my shoulders. His voice cut through the fog of my dreams. I sat up as he clicked on the bedside lamp. I blinked as reality seeped back in. He pulled me against his chest, and the terror began to wash away, but the anguish remained.

“It was just a nightmare. You’re safe.”

I clung to him and trembled as he stroked my hair. I focused on the steady thrum of his heartbeat under my ear.

“Do you want to talk about it?”

I pulled back and shook my head.

Reaper pursed his lips as he watched me. “Your brain’s still processing. It’s been a hell of a month.”

Tears streamed down my face. “I thought I was stronger than this.”

He gently wiped a tear from my cheek and then kissed it.

“Hey, you’re the strongest woman I know. But you’ve gone through a hell that would break most people.”

I nodded. I wanted to believe him. My life had been a shit show of death and destruction for two decades.

“Maybe you need to talk to someone,” he suggested carefully. “Not a therapist, obviously, given … recent events. But me, Rhetta, or even Linc. Did you know he has a degree in psychology?”

I raised an eyebrow. “Seriously?”

“Yeah, along with his computer science degree. He got the brains in my family.” His expression turned serious. “Taking a life affects everyone differently. Even when it’s justified.”

I swallowed hard. “What’s your body count?”

His gaze sharpened as his eyes narrowed. “You mean how many people I’ve killed?”

My voice came out as a whisper. “Yeah. I’ve … I’ve killed three people now. That’s a lot for the average person. Is that a lot for a Maverick?”

Reaper remained quiet for a moment. His jaw flexed. “My first kill was as a Marine. Being in a war zone makes it different, somehow. Easier to compartmentalize.” He paused, his eyes distant. “My first as a Maverick … that was a shock to the system.”

I waited, sensing his hesitation. He met my gaze.

“As a Maverick, I’ve taken twelve lives. All for different reasons. But all because they threatened something important to me.”

“Including Matt?”

I bit my lip. Did I want an honest answer to that question? Despite his betrayal, Matt had been one of my best friends for the better part of a decade.

Reaper searched my eyes and let out a long sigh. “Technically, yes. Matt was shot by my order to Merrick.”

The admission hung in the air between us. I didn’t recoil or judge. Instead, a strange sense of understanding settled over me.

Reaper and I were marked by violence. We carried the weight of lives taken out of necessity.

“How do you live with it?”

Reaper’s arms tightened around me. “You remind yourself why you did it. You hold onto the people you love. And you don’t let it define you.”

His words sank in, and the adrenaline from the nightmare faded. Reaper sensed my exhaustion creeping back and shifted me back to the bed.

“Sleep, Lioness. I’ve got you.”

As I drifted off, a sense of safety enveloped me, one I hadn’t known in weeks. The nightmares might come again, but I no longer faced them alone.