The Sinner's Club [18+] Complete

chapter eleven.

"YOU'VE GOT TO be kidding me."

Elodie's little hand is clasped in mine, her school backpack—pink with unicorns on it—slung over my shoulder.

And Reaper is still outside my Goddman building. He's leaning back against his SUV, the morning sun silhouetting his black hair and making it shine like obsidian, but when he sees us he straightens up. His eyes slide from me to Elodie and understanding floods them.

"Ammy, who's that?" Elodie asks, tugging on my hand.

"Uh...Uh..." God, I am not a great liar. "It's a friend from work, baby."

He is already making his way toward us. My grip on Elodie's hand tightens until she whines at me.

"Sorry," I mutter to her just as Reaper reaches us. He doesn't even look tired—how is he not tired?

"Let me give you a lift," he says.

I open my mouth to respond but Elodie beats me to it. "We walk to school. It's five blocks from here and we pass a house that has a dog named Peanut—well, that's what I named him. He's a pug and we have to pat him or he'll get sad."

Reaper's eyes dart between my sister and I. He's never looked so uncertain before.

"Like my sister said, we walk." I tug Elodie forward.

"I'll walk with you then," Reaper mutters, falling into step beside me.

Elodie peers around me to study him. "What's your name?"

He hesitates. "Reaper."

Her nose scrunches up. "No, it's not."

"No, it's not," he agrees. "But that's what everyone calls me."

"Why?"

"Elodie, leave him be," I tell her as we turn the corner onto the next street.

"It's ok," he says, gaze bouncing up to me then back down to my sister. "It was a nickname they gave me when I was in the military. I guess it sort of just stuck."

I find myself staring at him as we walk. He's tall enough to block the sun and provide a slice of shade for me, shoulders broad beneath his black leather jacket. I realize now I can see the outline of dog tags beneath the material of his t-shirt.

It doesn't surprise me that he was in the military—he genuinely looks like he could kill someone and he's clearly comfortable blindly following orders—but it does surprise me that he's admitted it.

When we reach the house where Peanut lives, I let Elodie step forward to pat the little, yapping dog through the fence whilst Reaper and I stand shoulder to shoulder on the footpath.

"She's who you're protecting," he says quietly, staring at my sister.

"Yes," I breathe. "Please, please don't tell Nathaniel."

He turns his head to look at me, his expression grave. "Never," he vows.

A sigh of relief leaves me, tension unwinding from my shoulders. My pinky brushes against his and a shrill of warmth hurdles up my wrist.

After we successfully herd Elodie through the school gates, Reaper and I walk back toward my building in at least semi-comfortable silence.

Just as we're reaching the front door, I ask, "How long were you in the military?" Waiting with bated breath, I fully expect him not to answer.

But he quietly admits, "Ten years. From when I was eighteen."

"Why did they call you Reaper?"

This time, as I turn to face him on the front stoop, he just stares at me blankly, not answering. Which is fair enough.