Reaper Read Online A. Zavarelli (Boston Underworld #2)

Categories Genre: Action, Alpha Male, Angst, Bad Boy, Crime, Dark, New Adult, Romance, Suspense Tags Authors: Series: Boston Underworld Series by A. Zavarelli
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Total pages in book: 103
Estimated words: 98207 (not accurate)
Estimated Reading Time in minutes: 491(@200wpm)___ 393(@250wpm)___ 327(@300wpm)
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“Is everything okay?” I ask Lachlan. “Is Mack alright?”

“That’s why I’m here,” he says. “Mind if I come in?”

I nod and gesture him inside. It’s weird having him in my apartment. None of the guys have ever been here except Blaine.

“Mack’s still having a bit of a rough time,” he says. “Dealing with everything. I was hoping ye might come visit her. I know your mother is sick…”

“It’s okay,” I tell him. “I’d love to come see her, if she’s up for it.”

“Grand,” he says. “I’ll have Ronan pick ye up this evening.”

“Okay.”

There’s a weird expression on Lachlan’s face. Like he wants to tell me something else. But he doesn’t. So I show him to the door, and then spend the entire day in Ma’s room, hoping for a lucid moment. It never comes.

***

Ronan arrives at my door to pick me up just after six. He doesn’t say a word when I open it, but just stands there looking as stiff and uncomfortable around me as usual. Ronan always does whatever Lachlan tells him to, but I’m a little surprised he agreed to drive me tonight. He usually goes out of his way to avoid me, and I somewhat expected Rory or Conor to be the ones to show up in his place.

“Hi, Ronan.” I smile weakly.

He doesn’t respond. We walk to his car and he opens the door for me and then drives me in silence. I hate it. I don’t know why he doesn’t speak to me. He talks to everyone else. Even Mack. And as much as I hate to admit it that bothers the hell out of me.

I alternate between staring at him and trying to keep my attention focused elsewhere. I know he feels me watching him. His hands twitch, but it’s the only obvious sign. He’s always edgy around me. And I’ve always been too much of a scaredy cat to call him out on it. My methods of dealing with his perpetual silence usually swing between acting completely irrational or avoiding it altogether.

But today made me realize that I really don’t know the first thing about this situation. And I could just pretend it never happened, like we seem to do with everything else, but I don’t want to. The words bounce around my brain as I try to think about the best way to go about asking it. How does someone accuse another of stalking without sounding like a narcissistic asshole, exactly? I don’t know. So I decide to just go for it and blurt it out.

“Have you been following me?”

Ronan’s grip tightens on the wheel and his eyes are suddenly laser focused on the road. But there’s a flush creeping down his neck. This big, strong killer gets embarrassed when I talk to him. I’ve never understood it. He’s not like this with anybody else.

He’s blunt and short and tells things like they are. With everyone but me. He can’t even seem to look at me most of the time. Like right now. I just asked him if he was following me and his only response is to drive faster.

And yet I can’t help feeling like he’s silently judging me. Like I need to explain myself. So I make the situation even more uncomfortable and awkward by doing exactly that.

“I’m not a junkie,” I tell him. “I only took ten of those pills. And only on days I worked. I’ve been tired, and stressed, and…”

The words sound even lamer when I say them out loud. There is no excuse for taking them. My head drops into my hands and I groan. I don’t know what the hell I’m doing anymore honestly. But it’s time to pick myself up and reel it back in.

The car is silent and fraught with tension as we continue to drive. I have no more confessions or accusations to level at him, so I keep my mouth shut.

When we pull up to Lachlan’s house, I have to admit I’m a little surprised. I’ve only ever been here once too, and that was when Ronan had to drop Mack off. Not many people know where Lachlan lives, so the fact that I’m one of them is just another reason for me to be nervous. Another reminder that the likelihood of them letting me go anywhere is not good.

Ronan turns off the car and moves to get out, but I grab his arm and halt him.

He looks at me, but doesn’t say a word.

“Thank you,” I whisper. “For looking out for me.”

His eyes soften, and then he gets out, walking around to open my door for me. He unlocks Lachlan’s front door and gestures me inside. I know he won’t be following, so I give him a little smile and then slip on through, leaving him behind in the cold.


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