Page 22 of Reapers Don’t Ride

Chapter

Seven

Ipaced the small apartment above the bar while Tiago worked over Gavriel, who lay stretched out on the bed. I was going to kill Richard. Singed? This was singed? His whole back was scorched, and that said nothing of the gashes all over his chest and shoulder. Gashes wasn’t the right word. Wounds with shrapnel still embedded in his flesh. What was wrong with the golden angel? There was ‘make it convincing,’ and there was, ‘sadistic psychopath who wants others to suffer as much as he can get away with.’ The next time I saw that angel, I was going to…

“Hand me the gauze, if you’d be so kind,” the elf said, looking up from his work with tweezers.

I bared my teeth and grabbed the gauze on the tray. At least that was clean. Nothing else was. “Here. Can you go faster?”

He raised a brow as he unrolled the gauze and then held it out for the man with leather knuckles to snip with a swipe of his claws. “You don’t want me to go faster. I might miss some shrapnel. Our friend, Rafe, has gone to cover up your scent. You’re lucky you stumbled into such a capable group of citizens.”

“If you’re looking for an assassin, you aren’t citizens.”

He tsked. “As an escaped convict, I suppose you are capable of understanding the nuances between citizenry and outcast.”

“The word is criminal. And yes. I’ve been a criminal for a very long time.”

“An honest criminal. I suppose that helps with business.” He pulled a very long piece of metal out of Gavriel’s chest and held it up to the light, monocle glinting. “I believe that’s it. Now the gauze, Shane, if you’d be so kind.”

The one in charge, the leather, clawed shifter of some kind nodded and bandaged Gavriel, taping the edges more neatly than I’d expect from the state of his clothing and the size of his shoulders.

“Now, he’s resting comfortably, and we can discuss our friendship,” Tiago said, giving me a smile.

“You want me to kill someone for you. It can be arranged, but we’ll need somewhere to stay until the heat dies down.”

“You don’t want to know the target first?”

I stared at him for a moment before I shrugged and looked away, my gaze landing on Gavriel’s chest, bare other than the large swathe of gauze over his right shoulder and down his pectoral. I grabbed a blanket and tugged it over his shoulder, tucking it beneath him so it would stay in place. “If my friend pulls through, I’ll owe you a debt. I pay my debts.”

“Yes, but you should still want to know the target, so that you can know whether you can do the job.”

I looked up at the elf who seemed so concerned. “It’s probably a competitor threatening your business, so probably corrupt, and surrounded by bodyguards, who are also corrupt and corruptible. Depending on how you want it done, whether it’s to look like an accident, or if you want them to know it was you, with a seal burned into the corpse’s forehead, it can be done. I don’t fail.”

His eyes narrowed. “But you only attempted to kill the president.”

I shrugged and looked away. “Yes. I didn’t fail to attempt to kill the president.”

He laughed and patted my shoulder. I flinched away, turning on him and snarling.

He raised his hands. “Sorry. I almost forgot that you’re a renowned murderer. So it was an intended failed assassination. Mr. Good must have been interesting to work for.”

“He was different from my previous master. You are not my master. One job. One life for one life.”

He nodded, smiling as he glanced at the angel, now cozily tucked in bed. “No, I’m certainly not your master. Be wary of angels. Some say they’re more dangerous than demons.”

“People say a lot of things. You can go now.”

Shane snorted and gathered up the medical equipment. “Sure. You want to be alone with your lover.”

I glowered at him until he left, Tiago lingering behind, studying me through his monocle with a piercing eye before he smiled and left, closing the door firmly behind him.

I immediately went to the bed and looked down on the still angel. There was something slightly hard about his face. Was he awake? I took his hand, and he squeezed it back.

I sank down on the bed beside him while a rush of relief went through me. He wasn’t unconscious, just playing the part. Too well. He’d been awake during that entire procedure? How could he bear the pain without flinching? I wanted to touch his cheek, his hair, to give him some comfort, but I was a killer. I couldn’t offer him emotional support.

I took a moment to hold his hand, grateful that he wasn’t unconscious before I released him and stood, turning to the apartment, which needed so much work. Cleaning was something I could do while I waited for him to recover.

The apartment was laughably small. It had three rooms, and one of those was a toilet. The bed was tiny, and Gavriel took up the whole thing. I started with the ceiling, scrubbing it down while the city outside grew more active as darkness took over. Once the apartment was scrubbed down, Gavriel sat up, touching his shoulder delicately.