Page 9 of Reaper & the Lioness (Lone Star Mavericks MC #1)

Chapter Seven

Immediately after the story aired, my phone pinged with a text.

Rhetta: Nice work! Thane is thrilled.

Me: Happy to hear!

Rhetta: You should swing by the clubhouse next Thursday. We’re having a birthday party for Thane. Live music, open bar, BBQ.

Me: Thanks for the invite … I’ll think about it.

Rhetta: Get your introverted ass out of the house, or I will drag you out myself.

I laughed. Rhetta had hauled me to more parties than I could count in high school. Even though I always wanted to stay home with a good book, I had fun when she got me out of the house.

Me: Fine. I’ll be there.

I settled at my desk, readying myself for a virtual meeting with another of Hale’s victims.

Amy Sullivan had spent several years working at Abell Enterprises and left shortly before I was hired.

She had an impressive background, having worked for some of the top executives on the East Coast. Former colleagues on LinkedIn raved about her ability to solve problems, manage difficult schedules, and multitask.

She seemed like the kind of person you’d want at your side if you led a multimillion-dollar company.

It was probably why they’d recruited her.

As I waited for Amy to join the call, a familiar knot of anxiety tightened in my stomach.

I’d agreed to this one without a second thought, but I hesitated in these moments before the discussions.

I straightened my ink pens and notepads on my desk to steady my nerves.

Each interview dredged up memories of my time working at Abell Enterprises, a torturous form of exposure therapy.

I hated how listening to others recount their experiences under Hale’s tyrannical management made my heart thunder. While my rational side knew I was thousands of miles away, the memories filled me with dread.

I sipped my coffee as I skimmed through the list of questions on my main screen and launched the transcription app on the other. The video screen flickered as a curvy blonde wearing thick black glasses joined the call. “Hi, Amy.”

“Hi.” Her tired eyes and nervous energy tore at me, reminding me of the importance of this story.

“Thank you for agreeing to speak with me. I understand how difficult this must be.”

She bit her lip before responding. “I’m just hoping I can help. Becca told me about you. Said you’re trying to expose Hale for who he really is.”

“I am. How long did you work for him?”

“Three years. I covered the front desk, mostly. I managed his calendar and screened his calls.”

I leaned in. Her tenure was longer than most. “Can you tell me about your time there? What was it like?”

Amy’s expression tightened. “I thought I was lucky at first. Avoided the worst of it. Most of the time, Hale left me alone. I did my job well, and it helped me stay off his radar.”

I nodded to encourage her to continue. This wasn’t new. Every woman I spoke to thought they could somehow avoid Hale’s advances and abuse. But eventually, he would take notice. And, once he did, he didn’t stop.

Amy took a shaky breath. “He seemed to single out one woman at a time. Once he had a target, he looked for every opportunity to manipulate them. It was like it gave him some sick sense of power. He’d change meeting times without telling them, then berate them for being late.

He would ‘lose’ their reports and then call them incompetent.

He’d tell them how great they were one day and then fly off the handle the next.

It was a real Jekyll and Hyde situation. ”

Her words reminded me of the painful, toxic environment I’d experienced.

Hale’s sudden mood swings. Walking on eggshells every single day.

The constant gaslighting. Rage-fueled one-on-ones followed by team meetings in which Hale showered you with praise after handing you a latte.

The manipulative experience left the team tired, confused, and on edge.

I couldn’t help but consider how Hale had twisted my own reality. How often had I doubted my abilities and sanity while working at Abell Enterprises? A familiar tension clawed through my chest as she spoke. I breathed deeply to center myself and focused on my list of questions.

“Did you witness any physical abuse?” I’d heard rumors that other women had been on the receiving end of Hale’s unchecked rage, though I hoped none had endured an attack as brutal as my own.

Amy clenched her jaw. “Yes. His marketing director, Sarah, once left with a bloody nose. I don’t know what exactly happened. But it was clear he hit her. Hard.”

My stomach dropped. “What happened after that?”

“That’s the thing. It was like it never happened. Benjamin Abell strolled in, pulled me aside, and handed me an envelope filled with cash. He said it was mine if I told the cop some random man ran out of the office with bloody knuckles.”

My fingers froze over the keyboard. “And did you?”

Amy nodded, shame coloring her expression. “I was too scared not to. But that’s not even the worst part. The cop didn’t even blink. That’s when it hit me. They’ve got the police in their pocket. That’s how Hale has gotten away with this for so long.”

I’d suspected as much based on how the police reports I’d read noted high crime in the buildings where Hale worked. Still, Amy’s testimony provided the confirmation I’d sought for months.

I nodded, taking a deep breath before asking my final question. “You lasted a lot longer than anyone else I’ve spoken to. What made you leave?”

Amy’s eyes dropped to her hands. She remained silent for a long moment, as if wrestling with whether to share this part of her story.

“I thought I was different. I thought I was safe because I wasn’t his type.

I kept my head down and did my job. Then, one night, I stayed late.

I was finishing some paperwork, and Hale came out of his office.

He’d been drinking. He cornered me. Started talking about how loyal I was, how much he appreciated me. ”

Amy took a deep breath to center herself. I stayed silent, hoping my expression showed empathy that would encourage her to open up.

“He put his hand on my shoulder, and I just froze. That’s when he leaned in and whispered, ‘It’s time you show me just how loyal you can be.’”

I fought to keep my expression neutral.

“I panicked. I shoved him away and ran. I didn’t stop running until I was in my car.

” Amy’s eyes met mine through the screen, filled with shame.

“I never went back. Left everything at my desk. Blocked his number and his email. I was terrified he’d come after me, but I guess I wasn’t worth the trouble. ”

“I’m sorry that happened to you.” I paused, collecting my thoughts. This information could help us hit national headlines. “Would you be willing to go on the record with any of this?”

Panic flashed across her face. “No! Absolutely not. I signed an NDA, and Hale has eyes everywhere. If he found out I talked …” She glanced off-screen. “I have kids. I can’t risk it.”

“I completely understand and will keep this all on background. I promise.” I paused before I continued. I didn’t usually share my story with sources, but I wanted Amy to know. She needed the reassurance that I understood the seriousness of the situation.

I broke out into a cold sweat as memories flashed through my mind. “I worked at Abell Enterprises after you left and ended up in the hospital. Hale attacked me after a meeting. I’m glad you left when you did.”

Understanding and shared pain flashed in Amy’s eyes. “So this isn’t just a story to you? This is personal. Promise me you’ll nail this bastard. Make sure he can’t hurt anyone else.”

“I promise. One way or another, Hale Abell will face justice.”

As our call ended, I sat back to process Amy’s story. Every interview was one more piece of the puzzle I needed to hold Hale accountable for his actions and the extreme lengths he and his father would go to bury their secrets.

I closed my eyes. Dark memories flashed through my mind and fear pressed into my chest. The phantom pressure of Hale’s hands grasping around my throat caused my breath to catch.

I pushed the feelings away, focusing my thoughts on the brave women I’d spoken to and those too scared to come forward. Their stories of abuse and manipulation at the hands of the Hales fueled my desire for justice.

For retribution.

M y arrival at the clubhouse felt different from my first few visits. Familiar faces nodded in my direction as I parked in my Jeep, and Jack offered a friendly wave. My successful placement of his story on the news lent me credibility, helping others see the value in my involvement with the club.

Rhetta had somehow transformed the yard into a raucous birthday carnival to celebrate Thane’s fiftieth. Leather-clad men and women strolled through the yard while children played under the trees. Rhetta mentioned it would be a family affair, but I hadn’t quite believed her until now.

A band played a lively mix of honky-tonk and classic rock. Sweat-slicked prospects hustled around massive grills, and tendrils of hickory smoke curled through the air, carrying the mouthwatering aroma of sizzling steaks.

A tent on the other side of the building drew appreciative cheers as scantily clad women twirled around gleaming poles.

I couldn’t help but chuckle, picturing Rhetta’s mischievous grin as she arranged this particular surprise for her husband.

When she’d first mentioned hiring strippers as a birthday gift, I’d assumed she was joking—or at least exaggerating.

Weaving through the sea of leather and denim, I found Thane holding court near the outdoor bar beside an enormous Jack Daniel’s–themed cake.

“Happy birthday.” I handed him a bottle of expensive bourbon with a bow. While Rhetta had insisted I didn’t need to bring a gift, I wanted to provide a token of appreciation to the client who had finally taken my bank account from red to black.