Page 64 of Down & Dirty: Reaper

“They are pretty damn badass. But, warning, you’ll catch attention wherever you go.”

“True. I guess I’ll be more reasonable and put the money away for my retirement.” Or create college funds for his future kids.

“Good plan.” She sucked on the back of his neck at the same time sliding her hands down his chest to tweak his nipples. “Sooooo…think you can rally after your ordeal?”

“With you naked in my bed? Oorah!”

“Oorah,” she whispered.

Vi couldn’t sleep. It didn’t matter that it was only two hours before sunrise. Or the fact that she had orgasmed four times. Or that Reaper was currently curled around her being the “big spoon.”

What kept her awake was eating at her.

She could’ve lost him. The Russos could’ve plugged a hole in him, then disposed of his body, and like Hoffa’s, to be never seen again.

It was probably a bad idea that she was sleeping with him on a regular basis. She was his boss. He was her employee.

But not only that, it churned her stomach when he went on these missions. Despite the fact he was only doing the job she hired him for.

Did she worry about the rest of her crew? Of course. One was her sister and Vi had grown up with the others. They were all close. So why then, did the potential loss of Reaper hit so much harder?

It shouldn’t.

Any loss would be difficult and a major hit to her team. A major hit to her family.

Of course, Reaper was more than capable of holding his own. The fact that he walked away from the encounter with the Mafia proved it. The man could come up with an alternate plan in a high-pressure situation.

But if anything happened to him, it would hit her hard.

Had she fallen for him?

She glanced down at the tattooed arm tightly pinning her against him.

She listened to his steady breathing.

Maybe she needed to put some distance between them. Go back to sleeping in her own bed at night. Go back to when they were only employee and employer.

Despite his tight hold, she managed to roll enough to face him. To study his relaxed face. His strong features.

His broad shoulders.

The mouth that made her orgasm.

The dark beard that had scraped her inner thighs.

She gathered his warm dog tags in her palm and ran her thumb over the raised letters and numbers. She didn’t need light to know what was on them because he always wore them unless he didn’t want to be identified. Like for the jobs in Pittsburgh.

All the former Shadows had been retired special ops and dealt with PTSD in some form or fashion. She hadn’t seen it with Reaper yet.

Yet being the crucial word since she had no idea how many people he’d eliminated.

However, that was what the job of being a sniper involved. Stopping a person from taking their next breath.

Even so, that had to leave a scar of some sort. Maybe not at the surface, but deep within his psyche.

And if it didn't affect him in any way, then that was even more concerning.

Rissa, Mercy’s woman, might be a retired sex therapist, but she had spent plenty of years around Mercy and the Shadows and, of course, still did. She accepted Mercy as he was because she recognized the fact he was damaged and used his lack of emotions to shield himself from further trauma.