Good Girl
1238 Words
I barely slept.
Not because the bed was uncomfortable.
The mattress was actually unfairly soft compared to the disaster my life had become.
No, the problem was Ryder “Reaper” Kane.
More specifically:
* his voice
* his stare
* the way he looked at my bruises like murder suddenly sounded reasonable
And worst of all?
The fact that my body reacted to him anyway.
I rolled onto my back with a groan, staring at the dark ceiling while thunder rumbled outside.
This was ridiculous.
I’d known the man less than a day.
Yet every time he looked at me, my pulse completely betrayed me.
Exhaustion finally dragged me into sleep sometime near dawn.
Unfortunately, nightmares followed.
Daniel grabbing my wrist hard enough to bruise.
His voice sharp with anger.
The shattered wine glass.
The moment I realized the man I loved looked at me with hatred instead of affection.
Then came the worst memory.
The one I never wanted replaying in my head.
“You think you can leave me?” Daniel hissed, shoving me against the kitchen counter. “After everything I know?”
Fear.
Cold, suffocating fear.
I jerked awake with a gasp.
For one horrifying second, I forgot where I was.
Then I heard rain.
Smelled leather and smoke lingering faintly in the room.
Black Hollow.
Reaper’s room.
Safe.
The realization calmed me slowly.
Until I noticed the figure sitting in the chair near the window.
My entire body tensed violently.
Reaper looked up from his phone immediately.
“Easy.”
Jesus Christ.
“Are you trying to kill me?” I snapped breathlessly.
Morning light spilled faintly through the curtains, revealing him sitting there like some tattooed nightmare.
Black Henley shirt stretched across broad shoulders. Heavy boots. Arms crossed.
Watching me.
Apparently all night.
“You were having a nightmare,” he said calmly.
“That doesn’t explain why you’re sitting in the dark like a serial killer.”
One corner of his mouth lifted slightly.
“I’ll work on that.”
I stared at him.
“You stayed?”
“Yes.”
“Why?”
His eyes held mine steadily.
“You looked scared.”
The simple honesty hit harder than it should’ve.
I looked away first, suddenly too aware of the oversized shirt I’d slept in riding up one thigh.
Reaper noticed immediately.
The room’s atmosphere shifted instantly.
Thicker.
Warmer.
His gaze dragged slowly up my bare legs before returning to my face.
Hungry.
My heartbeat stumbled dangerously.
“You keep looking at me like that,” I whispered.
“Like what?”
He knew exactly like what.
I swallowed hard. “Like you’re thinking inappropriate things.”
His voice dropped lower.
“I am.”
Heat flooded through me instantly.
Jesus.
No shame.
No hesitation.
Just brutal honesty.
I should’ve been offended.
Instead, my thighs pressed together beneath the blanket.
Reaper’s eyes darkened immediately.
“That,” he said quietly, “was a very bad idea, sweetheart.”
My pulse started racing.
The nickname shouldn’t affect me this much.
Unfortunately, it really did.
I forced myself to sit up. “You flirt aggressively for a man who barely smiles.”
“You’d smile less too if you spent years dealing with idiots.”
“You own a biker bar. Isn’t that self-inflicted?”
A rough sound escaped him suddenly.
I blinked.
Was that—
Did Reaper just laugh?
The sound transformed him completely.
Still dangerous.
Still terrifying.
But suddenly devastatingly attractive too.
This was getting concerning.
A knock interrupted us.
Maria’s voice followed immediately.
“You decent?”
Reaper stood smoothly. “No.”
“Tragic,” she replied dryly through the door. “Anyway, breakfast.”
He opened the door while I attempted to regain my dignity.
Maria walked in carrying coffee and food before stopping abruptly.
Her eyes moved between us carefully.
Then toward the completely untouched bed beside the chair.
Interesting.
Very interesting.
A smug smile appeared instantly.
“Oh,” she said slowly. “He behaved.”
“Maria,” Reaper warned.
“What? I’m shocked. Proud, but shocked.”
I hid my smile behind the coffee cup.
Reaper noticed that too.
His eyes narrowed slightly like my amusement personally offended him.
Good.
Maria handed me a plate before sitting on the edge of the dresser casually.
“So,” she said, “what’s your plan?”
Excellent question.
I stared down at the food quietly.
“I don’t really have one.”
The words sounded pathetic out loud.
Maria’s expression softened.
Reaper stayed silent.
Watching me carefully again.
“My car’s dead,” I continued. “I barely have money left. I just needed somewhere to disappear for a while.”
The room became very still.
Disappear.
Wrong word.
Reaper leaned against the wall slowly, arms crossing over his chest.
“Who’s looking for you?”
I hesitated.
Too long.
His jaw tightened instantly.
“Your ex?”
“Partially.”
Maria frowned. “Partially?”
I rubbed at my temple tiredly.
Daniel cheating on me was only part of the problem.
The real issue was what I discovered afterward.
The hidden money.
The fake accounts.
The terrifying phone calls.
The men who showed up at our apartment looking for him after I left.
“I think he’s involved in something illegal,” I admitted quietly.
Reaper’s entire expression hardened immediately.
“What kind of illegal?”
“I don’t know exactly.”
Lie.
I had ideas.
Very bad ones.
“I just know he started acting different months ago. Angry. Secretive.” I swallowed hard. “Then after I caught him cheating, he suddenly cared a lot about whether I’d seen his office files.”
Reaper pushed away from the wall slowly.
Predatory.
“What files?”
“I didn’t read them,” I said quickly. “I just saw names, payments… pictures maybe? I don’t know.”
The lie sounded weak even to me.
Because I remembered the photos clearly.
Bruised men.
Weapons.
Stacks of cash.
Maria swore softly under her breath.
Reaper looked furious.
Terrifyingly furious.
And somehow that anger wasn’t directed at me.
“What did he do to you after that?” he asked quietly.
I looked away.
Silence answered for me.
The room temperature seemed to drop ten degrees instantly.
Reaper stepped closer.
Too close.
His large hand gripped my jaw gently but firmly, forcing me to look at him.
Not rough.
Controlled.
Possessive.
“Did he hit you?”
The question came out deadly calm.
I should lie.
Instead, I whispered:
“Once.”
Wrong answer.
Very wrong answer.
Because something absolutely lethal entered Reaper’s expression.
I felt it immediately.
So did Maria.
“Oh boy,” she muttered.
Reaper’s thumb brushed lightly against my jaw.
The gentleness contradicted the violence in his eyes so badly it made my stomach flip.
“You’re safe here now,” he said softly.
Then quieter.
More dangerous.
“And if he touches you again, I’ll bury him myself.”
I should’ve been horrified.
Instead, warmth spread low in my stomach.
God help me.
Reaper noticed that reaction too.
His gaze darkened slowly.
“Careful, Ivy.”
My breath caught.
“Why?”
His thumb dragged once across my lower lip.
Possessive.
Intimate.
Devastating.
“Because you’re starting to like it when I get violent over you.”
Silence.
Heavy.
Breathing suddenly felt impossible.
Because the worst part?
He was right.
- Writer
