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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Conor is on the sofa, reading through a magazine, but glances up when I shut the door.

“She’s in the bedroom,” he says.

I nod and walk down the hall to find Mack nestled into Lachlan’s bed, staring up at the ceiling.

“Hey.” I smile at her from the doorway. “Mind if I come in?”

“Hey, Sash.” She gives me a weak smile. “Sure, I could use the company.”

I sit down on the edge of the bed, and Mack leans back against the headboard. She still has a few bruises from her ordeal with Mandy and Donovan, but otherwise she appears healthy. She’s a beautiful girl. Petite and fiery. With dark hair and blue eyes like my own. The defeat weighs heavy in those eyes though. Her friend is gone, and Mack thinks she failed her. I would tell her that isn’t true, but the thing I know about guilt is that nothing anyone else says will alleviate it for you. She’ll have to come to that conclusion on her own.

“How are you holding up?” I ask her.

“Nuh-uh.” She shakes her head. “I don’t want to talk about me. Tell me about you. How’s your mom?”

I glance down at the bedspread, and Mack sighs. “I’m sorry, Sash. Things seem to suck for everyone right now.”

I nod in silent agreement.

“Well,” Mack says. “On the bright side, I guess you’ll never have to worry about Donny bothering you again.”

I swallow the lump in my throat at the image of Ronan in that room with him. I knew what he did in that basement. Blaine used to tell me that he was missing a few screws. That he was all sorts of fucked up in the head and that he liked to kill people. I didn’t want to believe it. I still don’t. But that’s what being a part of this life entails. Following the orders that come down the food chain. It doesn’t matter why or how. When the boss wants someone dead, they’re dead.

I can’t feel sorry for the loss of Donovan. He could have screwed me and Ronan both with the information he held over us. And if he was actually loyal to the syndicate, he would have. But instead, he chose to exploit my loyalty. He knew somehow that I would protect Ronan. That I wouldn’t let Donny give him up and make him pay the price for his actions. Because Ronan killed Blaine for me. And Donovan being the opportunist that he was, chose to abuse that from every possible angle. Holding it over me and threatening me constantly to get what he wanted.

But I never gave him my body. My mouth and my hand, but never my body. I think that’s the thing that pissed him off the most. In any case, I won’t miss seeing his face lurking around the club and waiting for his moments to strike.

“I’m glad he’s gone,” I tell Mack.

“Lach said that Ronan really made him suffer for what he did to you.”

I blink up at her, and a million questions drift through my mind. But I can’t voice any of them out loud. Thinking about Ronan’s motives only gives me a splitting headache and an aching chest. Instead, I choose this moment to seize an opportunity of my own selfish desires.

“Mack, I know things aren’t very good for you right now,” I begin. “And I know you’ve done a lot for me already…”

“What is it Sash?” she asks. “Tell me. I’m feeling about as useless as a sack of potatoes right now, so if there’s something I can do to help…”

“Well…” I hesitate. “It’s just that you have some obvious sway with Lachlan. And I was thinking maybe you could run something by him.”

“Like what?”

I look up at her and clear my throat. I’m nervous as hell, and I feel like a coward for asking this of her. But I worry that if I go to him directly he will just turn me down straight out of the gate.

“He’s been good to me,” I preface my request. “And I want to do right by him. I’m really grateful for everything…”

“Sash,” Mack interrupts. “Just spit it out, will you? It’s me. You can tell me anything.”

I wring my hands together.

“Look, my mother isn’t going to make it much longer. And when she goes, I’ll have nothing left here. I was sort of thinking about maybe leaving town. Going somewhere else, you know. Start fresh. I’d never say a word about anything.”

Mack nods in understanding and gives me a weak smile. “I want to tell you that I won’t ask him. But only because I’m going to miss having you around. You’re the only one of the dancers who doesn’t hate my guts.”

We both laugh, and it feels good.

“So you will then?”

“I will,” Mack agrees. “But I can’t make you any promises, Sash. Lach will probably have some stipulations.”



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