Page 112 of Reaper’s Wrath

“There’s a big problem,” Evie tells them breathlessly. “I found out the police are hoping to take down the Reaper today—they’ve got some sort of operation going on at the docks.”

The two men exchange a worried look, then corral us back inside while one starts making calls.

“No answer,” he murmurs, dialing again. “Shit, neither of them answered. I’ll try a text.”

He taps at his phone while Evie and I lock eyes. My determination is mirrored in her stare.

“That’s not enough. We have to go warn them,” she states in no uncertain terms.

“We’re not supposed to go anywhere,” the other guard says. His hand is still bandaged from getting his pinky chopped off. He’s clearly terrified to make another mistake, and I don’t blame him.

Evie levels the two with a cutting stare. “You listen to me. That’s my husband out there, and he’s not your boss, so you have no authority over me. And as for Isa, do you think Elio’s going to be very happy if you leave her unprotected to go warn him? Or would you like to tell him later you knew about the setup but failed to warn him?” She pauses for emphasis. “He’d be furious. So here’s what we’re going to do. I’m going to grab my coat, then the four of us are going to take a very quick drive over to the docks. One of you can pop out and tell them what we learned, then we’ll tootle right back here where it’s safe, okay?”

She stands and marches toward the door, not waiting for an answer. I follow her lead and grab my coat while the two guys hiss at one another over how to handle the situation. By the time she returns, they’re still arguing.

“Ready?” she demands.

“No,” they both bark back at her.

“Good, then let’s go.”

We march for the door, our two grumbling guards behind us.

CHAPTER 57

ISA

“Don’t even think about getting out of this car.” The guard with all his fingers, who I’ve since learned is called Cruz, has shifted from frustrated to deadly serious.

Evie and I don’t argue because we’re seeing the same thing he and Pete are witnessing.

Elio and Drake are talking to three men about fifty yards away from where we’re parked. One of the men is wearing the classic Russian fur hat. It’s too late; they’re already in the middle of their meeting.

“Where are the others?” I ask in a whisper, feeling as though I need to be quiet for their safety. No one can hear us all the way over in our car, but my fear overrules logic.

“Probably out of sight nearby,” Evie answers. “I hope they stay hidden because that man on the bench isn’t out to enjoy the frigid weather.”

My gaze scans for the man in question. He’s in a long black wool coat, though most everyone out this time of year is wearing something similar. I’m wondering what makes her think he might be a problem when he jumps up and runs toward our guys, along with a dozen other agents who appear out of nowhere.

“Oh God,” I breathe, my heart leaping into my throat. “This can’t be happening.”

We watch in horrified silence as the majority of the agents focus their sights on Elio, making it clear he’s who they’re here for. He’s their primary target.

If they take him, I’ll lose him again. Maybe forever.

My soul had only just begun to start healing.

This will rip me apart at the seams.

I can’t let this happen. I have to do something. Even though nothing I say or do will matter, I can’t let them take him without trying.

I unlock the door and bolt from the car, ignoring the shouts and curses behind me. As I approach, the police call for me to stop and form a line between Elio and me. I want to scream with desperation.

“Please, don’t take him,” I cry, my eyes locking with Elio’s violent stare.

Elio?

My head tilts a fraction, and my breathing stutters.