REAPER (SERPENT'S MC: BOOK 3)

Chapter 12

🎵...I'M TRYNA MAKE YA MINE, IF YA WANT, 

BUT I KNOW WHERE YA GO WHEN YA GONE...🎵 

***

FRASER

"We haven't got a single threat for a whole week." Foxy retorts with two sets of knife twirling. "You know why?"

It's the way she says it that has me glance at her. She stares back at me with a grim face. Ever since it turned out that Xavier is the one who mixed arsenic in the cop's drink, she is more rigid. More fucking aware than ever. I think the bastard really messed up bad it this time. Well at least, Lethal took care of him. More like he got transferred in the warehouse far from Southside other than the clubhouse.

Good. He was fucking annoying anyway.

"Well, do you?" She repeats.

I shrug. "Do I look like Lorenzo's pet dog? How the fuck would I know? You should be the one with news. Didn't you hack some shit recently?"

"No, I didn't. The fucker is being too smart to cover his tracks. It's almost like he's invisible." She sounds frustrated. I don't blame her. 

"Well, here we go." 

"Olivia didn't say a thing to you?" She insists. Always so fucking noisy. "I thought-"

"What the fuck did you thought, Foxy? No, let me hear it." I bring the glass near my mouth and in a gulp, the drink is knocked back. She looks tired. No fuck that, too angry. Xavier might be the reason. Or maybe she's regretting the fact that she gave the asshole a chance in the first place. Don't I know it.

"I saw you coming out of her room with a permanent frown attached to your face and after that, the look on your face held the same smug ass smile every time you have a fuck fest. So of course, you two are fucking. Just wanted to know if she said anything about that fucker." Shit! Double shit. If Foxy knew-

"Did you run your mouth to Lethal? Fucking tell me!" I don't notice the wrist tightly wrapped in my fists. It's not hard like mine, they are soft, feminine. Foxy's. It doesn't even make sense until she flinches and shoves my shoulder.

Her eyes cut through me in irritation. "What the fuck was that asshole!? Did you seriously just tried to manhandle me?"

Did I?

Fuck.

"I-I didn't mean to. Fuck Foxy! I'm sorry ok?" Shit. My fingers tear through my hair, almost ripping them out of the roots. This is getting out of hand. I'm not the person who snaps at people like this. I mean Foxy has always been an exception but I just love to piss her off just as she does to me. 

But I don't try to manhandle her. Definitely not like I just did.

"Reaper?" A hand is on my shoulder forcing me to look up. I'm graced with a wary gaze. My knuckles whiten. When's the next fight?

"Something is wrong with you...almost as if you are running from something." She shakes her head frowning. "Want to...talk about it?" 

"We don't do heart to heart, Foxy. We are frenemies remember?" I deadpan, the drink forgotten. 

She shrugs not denying it. "True. But we are Serpents. When one is in trouble, we ought to help. So, what's up?"

Can I-Oh hell I'm already blurting out more than I've bargained for. "I fucked Olive. But I'm still not satisfied. You know I never sleep twice with the same person. For fuck's sake, I forget half the girls name the next day. But this time, it's...different somehow. She is hiding something. I have seen the look on her eyes on someone before. On our Vixen. That's why I'm more intrigued. Like just fucking her didn't make the thoughts stop. I'm thinking of her all the time even if I just want to bash my skull on the wall just so I can forget her name ya know. It's making me alcoholic. Go fucking figure."

She stares at me in surprise and I stop. "Fuck, just forget it. You don't have to-"

"No, no. I get it." She says lifting her lips into a smirk. "She's not falling on your feet that's why-"

"That's not why. It's not an ego thing. I mean I tried. I tried fucking one day to stay away from her and look where I am. With empty bottles all around me and drunk at midday. Prez even thinks that I'm losing it." I laugh without meaning it. 

She doesn't say anything but the look on her eyes says everything. She understands. She fucking knows how it feels. 

With a sigh, I stand and look at her only once before walking towards the entrance. If I'm gonna be pissed might as well find someone who I can take it out on. There's plenty of fuckers in the clubs for me to beat up. Or I can just ride my Harley to calm myself down.

At least that's what my plan was up until I'm in the alley right next to the clubhouse. Up until my eyes adjust the sight of a figure crouched down on the dirty road, shivering like crazy. Mated blonde hair, green eyes stares back at me...with nothing.

No shock.

No anger.

No disgust.

Just barely holding my gaze. Fuck! I am already on my knees beside her even before I register the scrap on my knees due to the cold hard stone on the road. I don't help her stand. She doesn't want me to. Something tells me she's finding more comfort from the cold ground than me. 

"What happened?" 

"Everything." She chuckles, leaning against the wall away from me. God, that annoying chuckle. It makes my hair rise in warning. 

"And what does everything means in your term?" Fuck, despite me wanting to do nothing with her, I can't just leave her in here. The dried blood on her knuckles tells me that something bad happened. Something worth knowing. 

I want to be drunk enough to hear her reasons. But I'm sober. Too sober to realize that she has stopped breathing and now only looking over my shoulder. 

"I got a package today. A reminder of what I did in the past." Her voice cracks. "I want to forget. But they won't let me. I won't let me. How fucked up is that?"

Emotionless Olive makes a good image to my already fucked up mind. She is breaking. For some reason, someone is breaking her. It's just not me. Fuck, I am not even in her mind, not even like a faded memory. 

"Who sent you that package, Sweetheart?" Maybe I really want to know. Or maybe I'm looking to add those fuckers to my beat up list.

"Why are you still here?" She asks instead. Her eyes hold mine in a heated gaze. Why I am here. Good question. But the thing is...I don't know. I sense her looking at my lips. I sense the need to help her. But the price might be too much.

"I can't kiss you. I don't do that shit." I hate to tell her. I want her to look at me with anger again. But she nods looking away.

"I know." She whispers. "Maybe it's best if you just go-"

I steal the words from her. Cold, soft lips meet mine in a harsh urgency, making her gasp. I swallow that little sound too. And I think one touch of mine can swallow that emotionless broken Olive too...