Reaper (Boston Underworld, #2)

by A. Zavarelli

I squeeze my eyes shut and try to blink away the pressure behind them. Five things, my father’s voice echoes inside my head. Find five things you can smell, hear, see, and touch. Ground yourself, Sasha. So I do.

Nobody knows this about me. That I do this almost ten times a day. I’ve always been wound too tight. My Ma didn’t know how to handle it, like many other things, so she left it up to dad. His voice calmed me. The humble voice of a hardworking man who loved and provided for his family. If he were here right now, he’d know exactly what I should do. Exactly how to stop me from drowning.

Blaine isn’t the first guy. They all tell me how pretty and sweet I am. When I look in the mirror, I don’t see pretty. I don’t see sweet. I see broken and dirty. Shame and self-loathing. The whore that Blaine uses as his own personal punching bag. The things I’ve had to do in this life aren’t pretty or sweet, and neither am I. I’ve made peace with that.

Damaged souls have their own beauty. A dark, terrifying beauty. The same type of beauty I recognize in Ronan.

The day that he saw me and decided I was his, my fate was carved in stone. My regret and hatred churn inside of me like a toxic poison, blackening everything that exists around me.

But then Blaine brings me here, and I see this man with the sad brown eyes, and a sliver of sunlight breaks through my otherwise dark existence.

The Reaper. That’s what they call him in the MacKenna syndicate. The name speaks for itself. And yet this man—this cold-blooded killer—he can’t find it within himself to speak to me. His cheeks flush pink every time I look his way, and then his jaw strains with the force of his anger.

They’re thinking about all the dirty things they want to do to me. I’m thinking about my dying mother back at home. About how I hate this life and everyone in it. I’ve got so much hate bottled up inside of me it’s only a matter of time before it blows.

That’s the problem with lies. Eventually they start to feel real. Eventually, you start to believe them too.

I’m one big hot fucking mess wrapped in pretty lies. The Boston Underworld set its claws on me three years ago and now it doesn’t want to let me go. It’s a cold and lonely place living forever in the shadow of the man that invited this chaos into my life.

I’m so over all of it. The mafia guys. The clients. The ogling and the comments and the grabby hands. While their wives are no doubt at home tending to the children they come here to ogle my tits...

The only thing anchoring me to my sanity at this point is my mother, but once she’s gone I’m all out of fucks to give.

And most importantly, away from him. Ronan. The biggest fucking liar of them all. Pretending like he doesn’t give a shit. Pretending like he doesn’t see the way I look at him. Or the way he looks at me for that matter. Like he wishes I would disappear. I’m his biggest regret. And still, my heart beats for him.

I don’t know how it’s possible to have feelings that are such polar opposites. I want to slap him. I want to scream in his face and force him to acknowledge me. His cavalier attitude towards me is worse than any of the pain Blaine ever inflicted on me. I’m not even worth his attention. A moment of his time. And yet, when he walks into the room, everything else ceases to exist.

The room around us is in chaos. But at its epicenter, where he and I are together, everything is still and quiet.

It’s the most awful way to watch someone you love go. Every night when I come home and see her like this, I feel as though I’m crawling across a bed of nails. But as horrific as it is, I know she’s grateful. Because she’s here in her home, where everything is familiar and peaceful. I wouldn’t let her go to a hospice. It takes most of my income to pay the home nurse and keep up on the rent, but it’s worth every cent. At least in the end, I can say she died where she was most comfortable. Where she was most happy.

“Does it interest ye to know, Donny, that before you or Blaine ever laid a hand on her, she was mine?”

These reactions almost always seem to revolve around her. Sasha. She’s worse than the pills. Worse than anything I’ve ever encountered.

My fingers tighten around the scalpel when I think of him inside of her. Touching her skin. Tasting her in a way that I never can. Feeling her softness all around him. Her scent, her sounds, her hands. My body shakes with the force of loathing I have for myself and for her.

and she stumbles back a step with the one thing I never wanted to see from her. Fear. She can hate me. She can despise me. But fear me? No.

She has a body that was made for the stage. That’s what Niall said when he hired her. I wanted to punch his teeth in, even if it is true.

I never wanted her here. In this environment. But without claiming her as my own, I had no say in the matter. And I will never claim her as my own. Which leaves me with one solution. I’ve no choice but to bear it. To watch the lads leer at her and make comments.

Her lips are soft and pink and only speak kind words. She doesn’t talk like the other girls. She doesn’t gossip or speak just for the sake of talking. And she’s always nice to me. She never laughs at me, like some of them do.

😢 Ronan needs protected at all costs.

I don’t know how to avoid that. I don’t know anything other than that it’s always been her, from the moment I saw her three years ago. She’s the thing that I’ve yearned for more than anything else.

Logically, I know I don’t own her. But I want her just the same, and yet I’m too paralyzed to act on it. But all I ever have to do is think about her with someone else, and it makes me want to take her for my own. Give her no choice in the matter.

I want to be what she needs. What she wants. But I’m not. Someone else will. Someone who I may very well end up killing too.

My dark prince. The reaper. The man who spilled blood for me without pause. For that reason alone he’ll always be on a pedestal that no other can reach. He’ll always be the memory I revisit in my darkest of times.

But I adore Mack. And after recent events with Donovan, I owe her a lot.

Mack was the first real friend I’d had in so long. She reminded me so much of the girl that I used to be. Before Blaine, and before cancer, and Donny and every hard ball that life threw at me.

I used to be strong like her. I used to feel like I could take on the world. But I certainly wasn’t strong when I met her. Every person has their limits, and I had finally reached mine. I was at my breaking point, and Mack could see that. She kept Donny away from me when I couldn’t take it anymore. And then she almost got killed because of him.

He doesn’t respond. We walk to his car and he opens the door for me and then drives me in silence. I hate it. I don’t know why he doesn’t speak to me. He talks to everyone else. Even Mack. And as much as I hate to admit it that bothers the hell out of me.

This big, strong killer gets embarrassed when I talk to him. I’ve never understood it. He’s not like this with anybody else.

I have a feeling Mack won’t be going anywhere either after the things she’s seen. But she doesn’t seem to mind so much. Her and Lachlan have something special. I almost envy her in that way as strange as it sounds. All I’ve ever wanted was to get out. But when I see the way Lachlan looks at her, I understand why she wants to stay.

Blaine staring at me, but I had my eye on someone else.” Mack smiles. “Let me guess. Brown eyes. Tall. Broody as hell?” “That would be the one,” I laugh. “He didn’t talk to me, so I figured he wasn’t interested. And in all honesty, I knew I should stay far away from guys like that anyway.”

I wake to the sound of my phone and something wet against my cheek. When I open my eyes, I’m met with big brown ones. The dog I still haven’t worked out what to do with.

She head-butts my cheek and then barks. I shove it away and reach for my phone, only to have it barge in from the other side. She wiggles her arse and hops back and forth before flopping onto her back and flashing her belly at me.

“What sort of dog is that?” he tilts his head to the side to examine her. “Is there something wrong with its wee legs?”

😂 howling.

“So ye decided to keep it? Do you even know what to do with a bloody dog?” “I haven’t a clue,” I admit. “That’s why Conor feeds it.” “Well it looks like it’s hungry now,” Crow points out. “Is that why she’s carrying on like that?” He shrugs. “What the hell do I know about dogs?” I walk to the kitchen and grab the bag of dog food off the counter, scanning the label on the back. “It doesn’t say how much to give her.” “Ah Jaysus, Fitz.” Crow laughs. “I don’t know how ye manage to keep yourself alive let alone a bloody animal.”

Crow & Fitz ❤️😂 .. precious.

But lately, I’ve been thinking that maybe if I take on some more responsibility, that it would help. That I could be worthy of something. Or someone.

Because getting that chance doesn’t change the words that won’t come. What am I going to say to her? How do you tell someone you love so much goodbye?

When I collapse onto the sofa, she jumps into my lap and whines as she nudges me. I don’t know what she wants. I wish she would leave me alone, but I can’t bring myself to push her away.

The blood of others has never troubled me. I kill to protect the syndicate. Crow, Conor, Niall. The men who have been loyal to me. My brethren. But I’ve never hurt a woman. I never wanted to hurt Sasha.

“Do ye believe it would be the end of the world if you just talked to her, Fitz?” “And what exactly would I have to say?” I reply. “The truth. She could understand it if you gave her a chance to.” “I still don’t understand it myself,” I tell him. “How can ye expect me to explain it to her.” “Or that’s what ye like to say anyway,” Crow says. “Suit yourself.”

He nudges my legs apart and pushes his palm between my legs like he owns that part of me. Who am I to argue? He does fucking own me. He’s polluted my mind so that I can only ever think of him. Only ever want him.

Ronan feels it too. This explosive link between us. All I have to do is enter his orbit, and I’m a slave to his power. I suspect that’s why he’s always avoiding me. He doesn’t want to give in to the same force.

I want to kiss him. He’s never let me kiss him. I can’t even imagine how good it’s going to feel, but I know once I have a taste I’ll be ruined forever.

This man’s strength is unrivaled in anyone else I’ve ever known, but right now he’s a slave to me.

Silence falls, and I think of Sasha upstairs. How I’ve made an arse of myself with her again. How I haven’t a clue what I’m doing with her or how to pleasure a woman. When she touches me, I have no control over my reactions. It feels too good. And I know I’m going to embarrass myself. Just like I did tonight.

I could ask Crow about it. But the notion of that is even worse. At this stage in my life, I should have worked these things out by now. But I haven’t.

🫤😢

I had a notion that taking on more responsibility might make me worthy of her. But as it stands I’m clearly not, and I doubt I’ll ever be the sort of man she needs. My weakness tonight only further proved that. It wouldn’t do to be cocking it up every time I’m around her. It’s the reason I’ve kept my distance.