The Sinner's Club [18+]

chapter three.

MY HANDS SHAKE so badly that I can't hold my phone still as I stand outside the club, on the side of the road.

I am overwhelmed and humiliated and, for some reason, achingly turned on.

I try to order a cab or an Uber, something that will get me far away from this place.

"What the hell are you doing?"

An abrasive voice makes me flinch and turn.

Reaper stands just outside the club, staring at me.

"I'm..." My voice wobbles. Oh God, am I about to cry?

He must see this because his mouth presses into a hard line and he strides forward. "You can't just stand out here, alone, with a fucking bag of cash."

I look down at the brown leather bag at my feet.

He breezes straight past me, slipping a hand into the pocket of his black trousers and withdrawing a set of car keys. He clicks them and a dark SUV unlocks.

"Come on. I'll drive you home."

I hesitate; I don't trust him. I am following Nathaniel's advice and not trusting anyone.

"Get in the car. I mean it, it's dangerous to have that much money out in the open."

As much as I hate it, he's right. I can't risk losing this money and I think Reaper is unlikely to steal from his own boss. I swipe up the bag and hurry over to the SUV. He opens the passenger side door and I slide in, placing the bag down and holding it tightly between my heels.

He slams the door closed and walks around to the driver's side.

Swirling thoughts and emotions crowd my head and my chest and my stomach—God, I feel sick.

Once he's situated behind the wheel, he stares at me for a long moment, icy eyes piercing. Then, he reaches toward me and I flinch back, terrified he's going to hit me or try something.

He goes very still, holding my gaze.

"You were right," I whisper. I should have stayed as far away from Nathaniel Sterling as humanly possible.

"I know," he says quietly. Not in a smug or 'I told you so' way. It is resigned, sad almost.

His hand continues forward and grasps the seatbelt, pulling it across my body and clicking it into place.

Then, he starts the car and we take off. Once we are far enough away from the club, I finally feel the panic start to recede.

"Why do you work for him?" I breathe, shaking my head. I can't fathom wanting to be in that place.

"It's not by choice," Reaper mutters, glaring at the darkened road ahead of us like it has personally offended him.

I turn my head and study his side profile, the cutting jawline that ticks every now and again, the straight nose and dark hair.

"What does he have on you?" I ask.

He blows out a long breath. "Tell me your address."

We spend the rest of the car ride in silence. When we pull up outside my run-down apartment building, I hesitate, hand hovering on the door handle.

"Thank you," I tell him.

He only shakes his head. "I should've kicked you out of the club the second I saw you."

My mouth twists downwards, the despair I felt earlier bubbling up to the surface.

He eyes the bag of money. "I hope it was worth it."