Heal Me (Reapers Reign, #3) Read online

  “No one will touch you,” he snaps through my thoughts like a live wire. “You’re Ghost's property even if you know it or not and I won't fuck with the Reaper. I'm here for Blue and Blue alone.” His voice tight as he spoke hurt even.

  “Can you shake on it?” My voice sounds brittle and broken. This is all too much for one daynight; I’ve lost count of the hours.

  “I’ll fucking make sure of it we don’t need you as collateral damage.”

  With that he stops at a door he pushes a few numbers into the pin pad and it clicks open stepping inside he kicks the door shut and drops me on a bed the room is dimly lit nothing like the ones that are lit up like Christmas trees down the hall. The room smells of disinfectant and is crisp white with a white plastic table and chair and the bed has the crisp harsh cotton of over starched sheets and a pillow that looks like rock. The wall that runs along the back of the room is lined with TV monitors and you can see into all rooms they flick between shots of Habit Hotel and the parking area, the room we first were in and the room we just left there is a room with a stage and cube boxes and what the god lord is that a dungeon leaning closer for a better view I'm stopped by his frame this man is massive are all bikers huge like shit Ghost is insanely built and as I can tell all these men here have been to apart from Drake and his fuck boys they all are little want to be ha Drake was he now is dead a smirk licks my lips as a small bubble of laughter sick twisted laughter that I for one haven’t heard come from my soul before man this state of affairs is surely good for me.

  “Something funny, little lady?” his voice booms out bouncing from the walls and back hitting my ears causing a ringing reaching up I push my finger to my ear drum to try and release the ringing.

  “Just you shooting Drake right between the eyes, never have I felt so satisfied before.” I say to his back as he fidgets with the TV monitors. His body rigid he moves methodically through a series of procedures punching buttons swiping different codes and colour pads over the monitors I watch in awe of the way his huge body moves graceful and fluid his muscles flex and ripple out under his top the tattoos seem to dance over his skin with each movement.

  “I can feel your stare, little lady,” he snaps out. I yelp at the sound and the fact that he caught me. I should be scared of this man not watching him.

  My cheeks flush to a burning red as I heart thumbs in my ears I run my now sweating hands over my thighs and look at my dirty scarped bare foot and the state my jeans are in rips in my knees and blood smearing my knee caps shit I'm a hot mess. Looking at the floor not wanting to raise my sight to the best who has turned and is standing in front of me. “This room is sound proof these monitors show all the happenings of this place I can’t shut them off so you will have a front row seat of just how lucky you are to belong to the Reaper, little lady,” he breathes out over me so close I can feel the warmth of his breath hit the top of my bowed head as the weight of his words sink in shit I hope they don’t find out that I'm not and that I’ve just met this man.

  The squeaking of his black combat boots on the over polished floor pulls me back to the now. “I’ll be back don’t scream, don’t fight and don’t try to escape,” Is all he says before he slides a board open on the outside of the door. “We will always be watching.” He points to the small black ball sitting in the corner of the white wall in here and out there he points to the small square glass peep hole on the door.

  Gone before I can even respond I'm greeted with the click of the door and the beep, beep, beep, beep of a key code being punched into the pad on the other side. 4582 that’s the code for this door 6969 is the one to enter the shed that we first were bought into and 8797 is the one that lead us to the main corridor holding all these rooms and poor drug induced girls.

  Right, what to do now. Nothing but watch the horror show before me of this place. Pulling the blanket around me I lay down on the bed and curl myself into a ball and watch the screen flick from one sordid act to another. Thankful for now that I'm on the other side of the tv screen and locked in this room alone but safe for now anyway.

  Chapter Thirteen

  Ghost

  Riding my bike through the NYC streets, I'm chasing the dragon, chasing the high I know I need in the blurry buzz of the adrenaline leaving my body from shooting that fucking muppet. I need more as my body sobers up from the last hit, the last drink, the last smoke I know I need another kill, then I need my poppet my Timberly the girl with the glass blue eyes who is imbedded way too deep in my soul that even the devil doesn’t know what to do. She is the only high I need but for tonight she’s MIA and I need to touch base with the life that I try so hard to hide the life of Ghost an executioner, a demon, the nightmare that walks the back streets of New York.

  Pulling up to back entrance I pull my helmet from my head killing the low rumble of my bike walking towards the back entrance of the club placing my hands on the cool black metal door the air is thick as I take massive lungful’s it's been a while since I was here and no doubt the jobs have stacked up and the ladies will be just a high and easy as a whore at a porn shoot.

  Taking a deep breath punch my own code into the door my hand shaking as I pull the handle down till it clicks and I enter as soon as I do I feel the odd sense of home. Dark midnight blue lighting lights my way down a corridor the shining sliver double doors of the elevator great my eyes as I walk then slowly getting closer my heart stills going from high with adrenaline to the slow murmur beat of a monster in waiting.

  Pushing my code into the pad of the lift’s panel, the door pings open and Saskia’s sweet Russian voice greats me from the speakers, “Welcome Ghost, Den or Dungeon?” she coos out breathing in deep I crack out my neck

  “Dungeon, sweetheart,” I hiss out. A kill is what I need then the sweet aroma of the den will quell the monster and settle him back to sleep.

  “Certainly executioner, welcome home!” she practically sings “It's been a while I hope the little lady you have been seeking and protecting is aware of how much you risk” she says as I watch the lift drop in numbers taking me deep below the streets of this concrete jungle to a place where not even god can hear your screams nothing lives in this deep dark place this is where the city brings you to die never to be seen again. I don’t even answer her she knows me well but tonight I need to morph into something other than the Ghost who has a boner over a chick who passes out more than she’s awake. I promised her and look what I did lost my shit and rained hurt into the soul that is more delicate than an orchid in the spring after a winter of harsh snow. All I wanted to do was steal her love her and look she’s been stolen from me by the fear and panic she loves it in her sanctuary of the dark the warmth of its embrace is proving to tight for me to break.

  The lifts stops with a slight jar I step from it as the door crack open not waiting for them to open fully as I walk down the black corridor that lit with a soft hue of red my eyes zone in on a immaculately dressed Saskia in killer matte black over the knee Jimmy Choo boots paired with a blood red leather skirt that hugs her ass and the white blouse and black lace bra the buttons undone dangerously low her long blonde hair is tied high in a sleek ponytail that trails down her back her black glasses pushed up high on her nose and her arms crossed over the black folder that will hold my hits.

  “Saskia,” I great her my tone cold and clipped.

  “Sir,” she says ushering me into the room as her hand pushes the door open for me to enter. Steeping into my dimly lit office just the way I like it black with the soft hue of red and blue, my black marble desk is sitting along the back wall of the room the black leather wrap around couch in front of it and that looks out over the dungeon through a floor to ceiling glass window walking over to my hands find the cool glass I watch as the heat from my palms mist up the glass and it fans out a promise in an empty room closing my eyes I suck in air deep down into my lungs moving my legs to hip width apart resting my forehead on the glass my hands find my cut as I feel Saskia walk up behind me my eyes catch t
he folder open as she lays it on the table to my right the picture of my kill on the front page a massive snake tattoo wraps over his face and in red below his image is the words Sexual Molestation of 15 women ages 16-20 all from the streets runaways and lost souls. Drug habit cocaine and meth owes five-thousand dollars to a dealer on Tenth and West Given Name - Ben Mac. Street Name – Big Q. Word on the street is he wants his tongue and fingers well gladly there Big Q and I will burn your fucking drug pit down,

  Shuddering my eyes close as my hands drop to my side and Saskia’s warm ample fingers undress me lifting my cut from my body the familiar weight of it gone as her fingertips rake up the inside of my shirt she pulls it slowly over my torso the air of my office which is kept at a killer ice forming temperature ripples out over my bare skin taking the warmth and leaving the satisfying tingle of a glacial kiss in its wake.

  Standing there looking out over the place where I take souls a small sick patter dances in my core as Goosebumps ripple over my body. Saskia’s hands run down my back all the way down my spine and back up again as she draws patterns with her nails over my muscles tracing her painted red tips over the Dragon, “You ready,” she asks me a mere whisper. “The Devil awaits,” she calls leaning in close her breath fanning out over my bare skin that is laced with the Icey chill welcoming the warmth, my muscles quiver at how erotic our dance is but how wrong it now feels knowing I want my glass eyed beauty.

  Saskia has always let me fall apart and she has always picked up the pieces of me after a kill she sits and watches she’s the only one that really sees me, trust me, believes me she knows me and it’s in this deep dark place that I am defenceless I’m not the man the world sees I’m the devil’s sidekick, I’m the Reaper. She sees it she loves it, it feeds her and turns me the fuck on. Turning into her she allows her hands to slid from my back to my chest our eyes meet your stare is strong words so many words spoken in one glance, she nods leaning up her lips grace mine mint fills the space between my lips and tongue. Her taste is mint, and her smell is peaches kissed in a sweet Georgian sun.

  Don’t let her smell, her taste or her smile fool you, this woman is as sick and twisted as they come, and she will kill you before you even know she is there. The dark is her home she’s comfortable there, she’s a psychopath in Jimmy Choo’s and she’s my right-hand women. She’s a Russian nightmare a silent killer she’s Saskia Mogilevich and even her family fear her.

  “Let’s feed,” she speaks “let it all out,” she beckons me as she leaves me with the folder walking over to the door “T-Minus 30 minutes Reaper,” she breathes as I take the folder and sit down on the leather couch crossing my ankle over my knee I open it up and read about the man who’s fate now lays in my hands as I will banish his soul to the depths of hell.

  I bet you are sitting here right now in this moment wondering what the hell is it that is happening?

  What do you do here in this place with the lights down low and in the depths under the NYC streets well sit back we have a little while until my kill arrives so here we go grab a drink and let me fill in you.

  I am not only Ghost the VP to the Reapers Reign an executioner for them and their club I also own a secret underground club called the Beautiful and the dammed. The den is a hot spot for NYC elite we have high end girls that will dance and give special benefits to Senators, politicians, business owners, The Cartel, The Mafia, shit even the fucking president.

  My club runs on a large scale we work with the DA, FBI, CIA, Russian, Italian, Mexican, The Triads, The Irish, and quite a few Motorcycle gangs you name it I’m in it and I have a say of what, when, who, how and why. I am the man on top the king of kings in this world and I use my power wisely. I am the one the organizations use to fix all problems, to kill and remove threats, rapists, traffickers, drug syndicates that don’t abide by the rules the gun runners and the law enforcement agencies who refuse to listen to reason and who go rouge. Tonight, you all will get a front row seat at what it is that I do, how I work and how I function. Tonight, I will remove a convicted rapist who my men at the county jail have so kindly given us it pays to not rebel against the change, the will and the way because when you least expect I will be waiting and I will take you so silently not even god will hear it. I have worked hard building this den pleasure and the dungeon of death, hours of work time meetings and step backs have gone into it I have sold my soul more times than I have ever imagined possible and I have tasted drugs that would kill a normal man I have drunk with so much power even my bones shook at the sheer knowledge that I had them in my pocket and at my table. To them I am not Ghost the VP to The Reapers I am Cade Morrow the king and the entrepreneur who isn’t afraid who dances with their demons and feeds their secrets who allows then to have sex with no strings, do drugs and drink till their world spins, I am the man among men the tycoon they see me for a fierce strong leader who takes no prisoners and feeds on the screams.

  Little do they know I am damaged, tainted and torn my core is raptured my soul belongs to a devil and my mind well that’s by far un-hinged so un-hinged that I am deemed unstable and a threat to the community well at least that was what my therapist used to say until she couldn’t handle the aggression and the crazy she freed while we had our weekly visits and one hour long sessions which turned into sleep sessions that involved her relishing her soul and unpinning that tight bun. Oooo that bun, shit that bun the way she reached up her long fingers would pull the bobby pins and unpin her hair releasing it and watching as it would fall in soft fiery red tendrils down her necked spine set my dick on fire and bleed my inner monster for all he had my dick now gets hard thinking at how good she was milking me for every salty drop. Really showing herself as the bad girl she was deep down inside. Poor women she thought she was in control but once awoken and unleased her bad girl took her deep down to the dark and she snapped and well the asylum took her, I told her the voices never leave. You have to find a way to get used to them to listen, to feed, allow them to talk to you and take you and your mind on a journey it’s the only way to survive. Shit my voices and my asylum is my haven it’s my home it’s where I am me.

  The crazy mother fucking lunatic who lives on an unhealthy thirst for blood. But you see there is always a but, and that bitch wouldn’t listen so miss buttercup is now a cup of crazy and dosed to her fucken emerald green eyeballs on anti-psychotic meds. I visit her once a month keep an eye on her and her care pay for it all as her family up and fucked off the husband left with his receptionist and had a kid is living in fucking Utah of all places well I spouse id move as far away from crazy as I could she did escape twice and near kill them both. My heart the dark black mess that it is bleeds for her it does as she is by far the one who saved me before she drowned under the weight of my truths and the hunting from memories she couldn’t switch off. So, you see people that is the story this is what we do here we fuck and kill well I kill they watch we have a viewing room if they so please to settle in and take a peek at the un-hinged lunatic at work. We drink and get high. No judgement, no pressure and no fucking questions.

  So here we go are you ready?

  Chapter Fourteen

  Timberly

  Lying dead still as my eyes open an awful chill and smell of disinfectant wash around me. Slowly I turn my head looking from side to side and back up to the roof again the crisp clean while roof with its halogen lights buzzing overhead. Nope wasn’t a dream... I am still here trapped in this god dam awful place because my mother was a drug whore and the man who I kind think I actually like went all Ali on those douchebags.

  One lays dead with a bullet between his eyes and the others no doubt out for my blood after their leader got killed and the man with the snake eyes is on a war path after they so carelessly... shit, I wouldn’t say carelessly, they forcefully took me, cracked open my skull with a baseball bat then threw me in a van with a blindfold like thing tied over my face and then kicked and beat me.

  So carelessly, no... rough and angry... Yup... Check... Took Ghos
t’s lady as he calls me. Hummmmm my mind flicks over to this thought as I pull the prickly blanket up higher over my shoulders. How does he know this? Who does he know me? How does he know Ghost? And who the hell is Blue? Is that even a person? These are question I shall surely ask if and when the man with the voice as loud and soul shattering as a 9.9 earthquake.

  Turning on my side I do all I can do lay here and watch the TV monitors. I cannot hear them or what is being said but my mind likes the quiet, so I snuggle in and watch the horror unfold. I watch the poor women dancing and being beaten, raped, and abused down in the dark of what looks like a horrid concrete jungle. I can’t handle any more, so I turn towards the wall and watch that until my eyes go blurry and my mind travels to my host and just how much pain he has embedded deep within his eyes.

  “Hey you.” The sound bounces off me shaking my bones “OI,” snaps out over my subconscious “Girly” again that voice slowly I peel my eyes open greeted by the blinding white of the overly cleaned room a hot hand finds my shoulder and I flinch at the touch No, No, NO please I chant inside my head.

  “Please don’t hurt me” I whisper out as the hand tightens around my shoulder causing the pain to wash through me as sweat beads at the base of my neck.

  “Hurt you, nope, not that I wouldn’t love to ride your sweet ass, little lady, you’re not the prize I’m after.” His voice grates out over me. I can hear truth washing through it as he speaks, and my stomach settles and my heart calms down. thank fuck for that I think now how the fuck do I get out of here and away from this place I need to tell Ghost that there like is a man with like info and shit on him and a room full of women who really look like they don’t wanna be chained up beaten raped and drugged.