Reaper Read Online A. Zavarelli (Boston Underworld #2)

Categories Genre: Action, Alpha Male, Angst, Bad Boy, Crime, Dark, New Adult, Romance, Suspense Tags Authors: Series: Boston Underworld Series by A. Zavarelli
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Total pages in book: 103
Estimated words: 98207 (not accurate)
Estimated Reading Time in minutes: 491(@200wpm)___ 393(@250wpm)___ 327(@300wpm)
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I reach up and stroke his hair, and for a few blissful moments, we just remain there. Our bodies locked together, holding each other. When he finally lets me down, his come leaks down my thigh.

I look down, and so does he.

He didn’t use a condom the second time.

Again.

That same panicked expression washes over his face. I want to reassure him, even if it is false.

“It’s okay, Ronan.”

But he’s already buckling his pants up, preparing to flee again. And I can’t take this. Indulging these encounters with Ronan is like playing Russian Roulette with my heart. He keeps pulling the trigger. At some point, the wound is bound to prove fatal.

“Don’t go,” I try again.

He smooths his hair back into place. His face is blank. There’s nothing there now. The guard is back up, blocking me out.

He walks towards the front door, and I follow after him. His palm pauses on the handle, and I tell him one more time.

“Don’t leave.”

But he turns the handle.

And this time when he walks through the doorway, I let my anger chase him.

I grab the door behind him and call after him. He turns around to look at me, and I tell him what I know is best for me.

“What I meant was, don’t come back.”

Chapter Sixteen

Ronan

“I’ve got a lead on Andrei,” Crow says.

I nod and toss back the whiskey before standing and shrugging on my coat.

“Rory already checked it out.” Crow interrupts me. “So there’s no need to rush off anywhere.”

“Why?” I ask.

“Ye haven’t been yourself lately, Ronan. I don’t know what’s going on with ye, but we need to tread carefully here. You need to tread carefully here. I need this handled in the proper fashion. Do ye follow me?”

“So I fecked up once, and now ye have no faith in me, is that it?”

“Ah, Fitzy, quit being so bleeding contrary,” Crow grunts. “The job is still yours. I just want to be sure everything is in line this time.”

I move to leave, and Crow grabs me by the arm. I shake him off.

“Fitz, I need ye to be careful. He’s got men scouring the city for you.”

“I’m not fussed about it,” I tell him. “Let them come. I’d gladly welcome them to try.”

“Goddammit, Ronan.” Crow slams his fist down on the bar. “Ye’re being a gobshite.”

“Ah well,” I answer him. “That’s what I’m good at. Isn’t it?”

I try to leave again when he stops me. He’s staring at me the way he always does. Like he’s trying to work me out. Get inside my head. I don’t like that. I don’t like people looking at me like that. He knows it too.

“I’ve got one in the basement for ye,” he says. “One of his lads. I doubt you’ll get anything else from him, but ye’re welcome to try.”

***

The music from upstairs vibrates down through the floor as I assemble my tools. There isn’t much left of the lad at this stage.

My methods of torture are effective. I know, because I learned from personal experience. So I also know by now this man has nothing else to tell me. He would have given it up if he had.

Most men would like to believe they could withstand anything through sheer will alone. But it isn’t true. They all give something up in the end. I don’t like what I have to do to them any more than they like getting it.

But it’s part of life. The job. The endless stream of days that blur together. Usually, it doesn’t bother me so much. I don’t like the loud noises. The screams. So I always gag them for this part.

I can’t stand the screams. That’s the thing I’ve no stomach for, out of all of it. Loud noises. They grate on me. Make me uptight. Even so, it doesn’t usually last too long.

But tonight it’s different. Long after I’ve cleaned up the body and my work area, they are still ringing through my head. It isn’t just his screams. The nameless, faceless man that graced my table tonight. I don’t remember their faces. Or their names. Only the way their blood looks when it paints the floor.

It always creates a different pattern. Each one is unique.

But tonight, I saw something familiar in this one. It looked like Farrell’s blood. And now I can’t stop hearing the screams. All the screams. They swirl around me, suffocating me in their intensity.

I stagger back and collapse against the wall, covering my ears. But even when I close my eyes, I still see their faces. Alex. Farrell. The other lads who didn’t make it through training. But worst of all is the noise. They were only young, but when they screamed like that, I wanted to kill them.

“Ronan?”

I blink and see Crow standing in the doorway. Only he’s distorted, and I don’t know why. There’s water on my face. He comes to kneel beside me and reaches out to touch me before he changes his mind and withdraws his hand.



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