Page 88 of Reaper’s Wrath

The irony is not lost on me—that a reunion with the person I was most secure with would be the one time I feel the most vulnerable. I have to force myself to count in my head to distract myself from my thoughts.

Just get it over with.

I cross the busy street to the small diner. Once I’m inside, my gaze is immediately drawn to my brother. Our matching hazel eyes lock, the connection somehow squeezing the oxygen from my lungs.

I have to force my feet forward to help get my lungs functioning.

DiAngelo sits at a booth in the back. My black combat boots carry me across the green-and-white checkered floors until I’m standing at his table. I know I should be aware of my surroundings, but I can’t seem to process anything beyond the sight of him across from me. It’s been so fucking long.

Too long.

“Have a seat,” he says.

I’m not thrilled at having my back to the room, but that’s what I get for stalling and arriving last. I ease myself into the vinyl booth. “Thanks for meeting on short notice.” It’s what I’d say if this were any other meeting, but the words feel wrong the moment they’re out.

My brother must feel the same because he leans back with a humorless chuckle. “That's how it’s going to be? We’re just a couple of businessmen now?”

I grimace, my gaze seeking escape out the window. “I reached out, didn’t I?”

D leans closer. “After twenty fucking years, yeah, I suppose you did.”

His anger ignites my own. I lean forward, mirroring his posture and hissing back at him. “I wasn’t exactly free to go where I wanted. I was kidnapped, in case you forgot.” That’s not the whole story, but it’s hard not to be defensive. Some of my absence was by choice, and I’m terrified to admit that to him.

“You only get free this week?” he shoots back, knowing that’s not the case. Stories about the Reaper started circulating five months ago after I killed those Russians in the summer.

My teeth grind together as I pull away. “It wasn’t that simple.”

He takes a calming breath, his nostrils flaring before he forces himself to lean back and relax. “Seems like this would be the perfect time for an explanation, then. I’d love to hear why a phone call to let us know you were still alive was such a challenge.”

“I didn’t have access to a phone or transportation for a very long time,” I explain quietly.

D fidgets in his seat. “Were you imprisoned?”

“Yes and no. I was essentially conscripted onto the crew of a sailboat.”

His face twists in confusion and disbelief while I continue.

“When I came back to the city this summer, that was my first time back on US soil.”

“You’ve been at sea this whole time?” His question is breathless with shock.

I nod. “For the most part, yes.”

“Will you tell me more?”

“After the man who took me slit my throat, I managed to escape but only made it a short distance outside before I passed out from the loss of blood.”

“The young guy in the ball cap? Or his boss?” D’s eyes flash with fury.

“There was no … boss. It was just him,” I say slowly, my brain sluggish in processing how he knows that the man who took me wore a ball cap. “How do you know what he was wearing?”

His steady gaze locks with mine. “I tracked him down two days after you were taken. He was reporting to someone. I know that someone else was involved.”

I’m stunned. I had no idea the two had crossed paths. “You talked to him?”

“I did more than that.” His grim tone leaves no question what he means. He killed the man.

“You went to jail for arson,” I murmur, trying to wrap my head around what I’m hearing.