Текст книги "Monster"

“By all means,” he said, splaying his hands that were stained red despite his rubbing, “put her to use.”

I felt myself nodding. “We done here?”

“It's no wonder no one likes working with you,” Lex said, his head tilting. “You are really a dreadful human being.” Coming from the scum of the earth, well, I guess I could consider that a compliment.

“You're paying me to hold onto the bitch. You want to dig at me about how I handle my shit, it will cost you twice as much.”

Lex sighed. “One week and I expect you to drop her off.”

“Where?” I asked, fighting the urge to toss Alex over my shoulder and haul ass out of there.

“My house.”

Shit.

He meant business with her.

The kind of long, drawn-out business I suspected her mother went through.

“Right,” I said, nodding, moving to the door, snagging the sleeve of Alex's shirt and dragging her with me. “See you then.”

Limp Dick Rick stood in the doorway until I turned back behind me, raising a brow at Lex who flicked a hand, and he moved out of the way.

Alex walked numbly to the passenger side and climbed up. I got into the driver's and tore off, not bothering to buckle. Just needing to get the fuck out of there as soon as possible.

“Are we being followed?” Alex's voice reached me, making me jump slightly.

“What?”

“Are. We. Being. Followed?” she enunciated carefully, her words heavy with something I couldn't place.

“No,” I said with confidence. I had been paying attention, my mind running the same way.

“Pull over,” she said, watching the landscape become more desolate as we left the town behind.

“It's rain...”

“Pull the fucking car over!” she shrieked, shocking me enough to pull off to the shoulder and throw the car into park.

Before I could even turn to look at her, she was out of her belt and out of the door, slamming it hard behind her.

I swung out of the car, darting around it to find her bent forward throwing up violently beside the front wheel.

Fuck.

I forgot about the body. I know that was shitty and unfeeling of me. But it meant nothing to me. Apparently, it meant something to her. It was one thing for her to see the pictures of the things Lex had done. It was a whole other to see it right in front of your eyes, to smell the blood, to see it all over.

“Deep breath,” I said, reaching into the backseat for a spare bottle of water as the rain soaked through my clothes. “It'll pass.”

“You don't get it,” she said, her voice acidic as she rinsed and spit the water.

“I get it. That was fucked up to walk in on. But it's over. We got out. We have a week to figure out what we're gonna do and...”

“You. Don't. Get. It,” she seethed, turning to look at me and there were tears in her eyes.

“Explain it to me,” I tried in a soothing tone.

“I knew him!”

“Knew who, doll?”

“The dead guy, Breaker. I fucking knew him!”

Fuck.

I never stopped to consider that there was like a hacker underground. They probably all knew each other in a detached sort of way. “Babe... I know hackers run in the same circles and shit but...”

“No Breaker,” she said, shaking her head. She raked hands down her face like she could claw the image away. “I mean... I knew him, knew him.”

Fifteen

Alex

It was Glenn.

I followed Breaker who followed Lex into the second room, knowing it was probably not a good thing that we were being moved to a second location, but not having much of a choice.

And the second that I stepped through, my eyes fell to the chair.

And they found Glenn.

Glenn the sweet, slightly overweight hacker who taught me almost everything I knew. The only person on the planet aside from Breaker who knew even part of my story.

The guy I used to have sex with.

Weird, awkward, passionless sex.

But still.

I knew what his lips felt like on mine, what his body looked like. I knew his voice when he was excited for me when I finally understood a concept he was explaining or the way he said my name like a warning when he got frustrated with my ever-present runaway temper. I knew that he hated coffee and preferred energy drinks. That he thought crunchy cheese curls were superior to the puffed kind. I knew that his mother still bought him underwear for Christmas and his laptop cost four times what mine did (and mine was expensive to the point of obnoxious).

I knew him.

And he was dead.

By Lex's hands.

Like my mother.

Used as a puppet and bled dry.

Like my mother.

The god damn son of a bitch took everything, everything from me.

“What do you mean you knew him knew him?” Breaker asked, his head tilted at me, water spilling down his face and dripping off his beard. Funny because I was blissfully unaware of my own wetness.

“When I was out on my own... looking for people to help me figure out the hacking thing, I found Glenn. His name was Glenn,” I said, my voice wobbling a little and I winced at it. But I couldn't help it. It kept getting more and more shaky as I went on. “Glenn Gable and he was just a couple years older than me. And he was good and patient and he loved his mother and his hands were always warm to the point of being clammy. And he thought crunchy cheese curls beat out the puffed kind. Which is stupid. Puffs are way better. But he loved them and he downed them with green energy drinks and he used to rub my back when I would sit and stare at the computer all day every day trying to learn what he was trying to teach me and...”

“You dated him,” Breaker said, his voice soft. My eyes went to his, expecting to see mockery there. Because Glenn wasn't super hot guy badass material like Breaker was. But all I saw in Breaker's blue eyes was understanding. Sympathy.

“Yes,” I admitted, the tears that had been stinging my eyes finally winning out and brimming over. “It wasn't good. But he was good to me and I cared about him. And Lex killed him!”

“Oh baby...” he said, his arms reaching for me and hauling me against his chest as his arms squeezed me hard enough to make breathing difficult.

But in a weird way, it still felt good. So I turned my face into his neck and I let the tears come.

I wondered if Glenn's mother would ever know what happened to him. Or if he would just be a missing person and empty casket for her. I hadn't met her, but I had seen pictures. She was an even heavier, feminized version of Glenn. Same dark hair. Same roundish face. Same nice brown eyes. She looked like the kind of woman who cried at greeting cards.

She wouldn't have anyone to buy underwear for at Christmas anymore.

At that, I cried some more.

And Glenn would never get a chance to finally reach the final level in that video game he had become obsessed with the day before Breaker took me. He had bought a case of energy drinks so he could stay up for days and play.

I doubt he had even gotten close to finishing before Lex picked him up.

At that, I cried even harder.

“He's dead because of me,” I cried, my words coming out high-pitched and choked.

“Alex, you can't think...”

“I'm the one fucking with Lex's computers. It's me. He was hired to find me. And he died because he knew it was me all along and he knew he couldn't tell Lex that because he knew what would happen to me. He died to protect me!”

To this, Breaker had nothing to say.

Because there was nothing to say.

There were no magic words that could make that any less true. Any less painful. There was no one left in my life who cared about me even in a detached 'we used to date but it didn't work out' kind of way. There was no one. I had nothing left.

“No one is left to care about me,” I whispered against his skin, just loud enough for me to hear.

But his arms squeezed me tighter. “That's not true,” he said with certainty.

“Yes, it is,” I sniffled, knowing I sounded pathetic and not particularly caring. I earned the right.

“Doll, it's not true,” he said firmly. “I care about you.”

“No you don't,” I said, rolling my eyes even though he couldn't see me. “You don't even know me.”

“I know enough to give a shit, Alex. I might not see it all because you won't let me. But I see you. And what I do see, I care about. I don't care that I've only known you a couple days and it's too soon and it doesn't make any kind of fuckin' logical sense. Especially since I don't give a fuck about anyone but myself and Shoot, but I care and I am going to try to get all of us out of this.”

His words sent warmth through my insides, making me see for the first time how cold a place I had been living in.

But that was exactly the reason he couldn't care about me. I wasn't the kind of girl who deserved that. I was the kind of girl who was surrounded by death and torture and obsessions that brought nothing but misery to myself and those around me.

He might have been bad news, but everything I had learned about Breaker suggested he was a good man.

And I couldn't drag a good man down into my gutters to wade around in the muck with me. It wasn't right.

I had to find a way out for myself. And for him. And Shoot. Whatever it took. No one else was going to die because of me and my mess.

I sniffled back a new onslaught of tears, taking deep breaths to calm myself down. It wasn't the time. To break down. To fall apart. I needed to push back all that dark and lock it away for a time when everyone was safe and away from my mess. Then I could let it out. Let it consume me if it needed to.

“You alright?” Breaker's voice asked and I felt myself nodding even though that answer was a booming, deafening no. “Can we get back on the road?”

“Yep,” I said, pulling out of his arms and turning back to the car, throwing myself in before he could even move a foot.

Breaker got in silently, throwing on the heat, pulling off the shoulder, and letting me have my silence though I kept feeling his eyes on my profile as he drove.

We pulled up to his house a while later and I followed Breaker inside, both of us going to change into dry clothes. By the time he came out of the bedroom, I was in a pair of black yoga pants and a oversize pink sweatshirt, legs curled on the couch, laptop propped on top of them.

“What are you doing?”

“Putting the word about Glenn out there,” I said, forcing my eyes to blink back the tears. “He had friends in the hacker community. They have a right to know. Everyone worries about each other when we disappear. Mostly thinking one of us got locked up, but there's always a chance for... worse. His friends deserve to know the truth.”

“You think that's a good idea seeing as we're the only ones who know what happened to Glenn?” he asked, watching me, his words hesitant like he was worried he was crossing a line.

“First– Lex doesn't exactly seem like the type who knows how to use the dark web. Second– I am going to say to keep it on the DL because it could lead to my getting into the same kind of trouble as Glenn. And third, I don't give a fuck.”

To this, Breaker had nothing to say.

I had the vague knowledge of him walking around the kitchen as I typed but I didn't look up until I saw him sit down beside me, dropping two glasses on the coffee table and filling them with something clear.

My eyes went to his, brows drawn together.

“Your friend died today,” he said, putting the bottle down and reaching for the glasses, handing one to me. “You owe it to him to honor his memory.”

“By drinking?” I asked, glancing at the bottle of vodka.

“Yeah, doll. It's what people do. People in the line of work we're in. We drink. We share stories. We numb the pain a little. We fight or fuck and we move the fuck on. It's the only way.”

The line of work we're in.

I never thought of it that way. That we were, in a way, doing the same kind of job. Underground. Illegal.

But he was right.

I may not have had blood on my hands in a literal way, but that morning proved I did in a very metaphorical way.

So if the way people like us honored a death was by drinking, then I owed it to Glenn to do that.

I lifted my glass toward Breaker then threw back the liquid that burned down my throat. I came up coughing and Breaker laughed.

“Not a big drinker, huh?”

I rubbed the tongue against the roof of my mouth, trying to scrub the taste of vodka away with no success. “No.”

To this, he shrugged, leaning forward to snag the bottle and pour us both another round. “You won't even taste it soon enough,” he told me sagely then just kept plying me with liquor until it became true. “So did you two date for long?” he asked a while later when my head was starting to feel fuzzy and the room was whirling a bit, making me put my foot on the ground to assure myself that I was still, in fact, stationary.

“No. And we didn't really... date,” I said, my mouth deciding it was a good time to spill all the dirty little secrets I kept buried deep. “He taught me things. He liked me. I just... I had nothing else to offer him...”

If I had been looking, I would have seen Breaker's light eyes darken, his face harden. “Alex, you have more to offer than sex,” he said, his words a little firmer than usual, making me look at him.

But I didn't see the hardness there.

And I was laughing. “Says the man who has been screwing me silly for the past couple of days.”

“Doll...”

“Not that I'm complaining,” I went on, oblivious to even the idea of boundaries anymore. “The sex has been like... great. Like super super great. And I didn't even think I had a sex drive anymore. But then there you were all badass and dirty mouthed and my lady bits were like... well hello. And then you knew how to use your gentleman bits really well and I just... what's so funny?” I asked, my brows knitting together, feeling indignation rise up. Didn't he see that I was trying to give him a compliment? It was rude to laugh at compliments.

“My... gentleman bits?” he asked, trying to reign in the smile and failing miserably.

“Fine. Your cock,” I shot back, lowering my eyes at him. “Happy?”

“Surprisingly... given this shit day. Having to deal with Lex. Seeing him rake you over the coals. Again. Having to see you cry. Even with all that shit? Yeah, babe... I'm pretty fuckin' happy right now.”

I rolled my eyes at him. “You're drunk,” I dismissed him.

“No, doll. You're drunk. I'm still as sober as a judge.”

“That's not possible,” I objected. “You drank just as much as me and my brain cells feel like they're swimming in jello.”

“That's because you're a lightweight. I can drink that whole bottle without getting as shitfaced as you are right now.”

“Well, regardless. You shouldn't be happy right now.”

“Why not?”

“Because there's no reason to be happy.”

“I'm sitting here with a a woman drunk off her ass, tellin' me she likes what my 'gentleman bits' do to her, knowing I am going to be balls deep in her sweet pussy before the night is over. So yeah, doll, I think I have a pretty good reason to be happy.”

Even drunk, that did make some kind of sense. So I just shrugged.

“Alex, look at me.”

I sighed, letting my eyes slide to his. “What?”

“You have more to offer than just sex,” he said, his tone oddly serious. “You get me?”

His tone didn't leave much room for debate and my tongue was feeling a little fat and I wasn't sure any argument of mine would come out clearly anyway. “I get you,” I agreed though I wasn't sure I was, in fact, with him.

“Good. Now can you walk without faceplanting or should I carry you to bed to fuck you?”

“I can walk,” I assured him, getting to my feet and my arms immediately flew out wide, trying to balance myself. I took a few tentative steps, realizing that if I concentrated hard enough, I could, in fact, walk. “What is drunk sex like?” I asked, reaching to pull my sweatshirt over my head as I stumbled down the hall.

Breaker followed behind me and while I couldn't see it, I could hear it in his voice that he was smiling. “I have a feeling that with you, it's going to be a whole new experience.”

“Only if I can get these... pants... off,” I said, sitting on the edge of the bed trying to struggle out of the legs.

Breaker's deep chuckle rumbled through to my bones as he walked to the edge of the bed, grabbed the ends of my pants and hauled them off me in one swift motion that made me flail out to grab the sheets so I didn't slide off the bed. I looked down to see he had pulled my panties off too. And I hadn't bothered with a bra.

I looked up at Breaker. “This isn't going to work,” I said, brows drawing down as I tried to concentrate.

“Why not?” he asked, still smiling.

“Because I'm naked.”

“I see that,” he said, eyes raking over my body and it sent a rush of wet between my legs. “Don't see that being a problem.”

“You're fully dressed,” I went on.

“There's things I can do to you fully dressed,” he said, moving toward the bed and getting down on his knees at the foot. His arms went up, grabbing my thighs, and yanked me down toward him. Before I could even think to snap my legs together, his face was between them, his tongue sliding up my sex until it found my clit and went at it without mercy.

It didn't take long for me to think that getting drunk had it's definite, definite benefits. Like a body that was somehow numb everywhere else except where Breaker was touching. Because wherever that was, felt like it was electric. It felt pulsing and alive.

He licked me until I came twice.

Then fucked me until I came two more times.

He walked away then came back, making the bed feel like it was suddenly filled with water it wobbled so hard. He climbed in next to me, hauling me onto his chest in a way that was new but still somehow deeply familiar. One arm was locked hard around my hip, the other sifting through my hair.

I felt sleep pulling at my eyes.

“Glenn died today,” I whispered quietly.

“I know, baby,” he said, his arm squeezing me.

“We got drunk and we shared stories and we fucked.”

“Yeah, doll.”

“I think maybe I can move on now,” I said, turning my face slightly to plant a kiss at the center of his chest.

Both of his arms went around me, squeezing me tight.

“Yeah,” he agreed. And I could have sworn I felt his lips at the top of my head before I drifted off.

Sixteen

Alex

Four days.

Four days since Glenn died. Since I got stupid drunk and probably admitted way too much to Breaker about god-knew what.

I say 'probably' because the night had a vodka-blanket laying atop of it.

I woke up the next morning with jackhammer splicing into my brain, making me groan and roll onto my side, cradling my head in my hands as Breaker moved off of the bed chuckling.

“'s not funny,” I grumbled, rocking my body to try to ease the ache.

“From where I'm standing it is,” he said, coming back in and pushing me onto my back where he deposited three ibuprofen into my hand and gave me a bottle of water. I threw back the pills with a sip of water and he shook his head, tipping up the bottom of the bottle. “Down it all. You need to hydrate.”

“I need to be left alone to die,” I objected, but I chugged the water. After all, he knew more about hangovers than I did. I threw the empty bottle toward the foot of the bed, pulling myself up until I was seated against the headboard. I chanced a look at Breaker who looked way too amused and un-hungover. “Did I say anything stupid last night?”

“Yep,” he said immediately, looking close to laughing.

“Great,” I said, running a hand through my hair.

“It was cute.”

“Whatever it was,” I objected, “was not cute. Embarrassing? Sure. Cute? No.”

“How do you know? You don't even remember,” he said logically and I glared at him. Which only made him laugh. “I'm gonna go make you some eggs and toast. Heavy on the butter and grease. Go catch a shower and meet me in the kitchen for some caffeine.”

With that, he left.

And I followed instructions.

After the clanging in my brain became a steady but tolerable banging, I went to the laptop and spent the day answering responses I got about Glenn. There was still nothing on the post about Lex.

And the part of me who knew the underworld of the dark web knew that there was very little to no chance of getting a bite after so long.

The next two days taught me more about Breaker. Not Breaker, the muscle. Or Breaker, the verifiable sex god. But Breaker, the man.

He got up early. He drank too much coffee. He worked out (duh, with a body like that!). He showered. He cooked. He watched movies. He dealt with household chores. He took time out to fuck me.

He was just... a normal person.

It was a weird thing to realize. Men like him, they seemed above the little everyday things like taking out the trash or washing out the coffee pot. But I had seen him do those things more than once.

Which somehow made him more relatable to me.

On the third day, he got a work call. I didn't ask who it was but he confirmed that it wasn't Lex, thereby making the rolling in my stomach subside.

On the fourth day, he walked up to me while I was leaning against the kitchen counter drinking coffee.

“I gotta run out,” he said, as usual not bothering to ease me into anything. It was a habit I found almost oddly comforting. I was never the kind of girl to be handled with kid gloves. I appreciated that he respected that about me.

“For work?”

“Yeah. But we also ran through all the food,” he said, taking my mug out of my hands and pressing a kiss into my neck. I made a murmuring sound in my throat as my body came alive. That was all it took with him. Sometimes I didn't even need a kiss. The night before, his pinkie finger accidentally brushed against my thigh and I was ready. He chuckled as if knowing what was going on and moved away from me. “Ain't got time to fuck you again,” he said, moving over toward his weapon pantry and reaching in. He tucked his gun into his waistband where I learned it lived if he was leaving the house. Then he came back holding another gun.

“What's this?”

“A gun. For you,” he said, pressing it into my hands. “Don't plan on you having any trouble, but you need to be prepared. This is the safety,” he said, slipping it off. “You hear something, see something, you take off the safety and you point. Put your finger on the trigger and pull. Don't think about it. Don't hesitate. No one belongs here. Anyone here but me? They mean trouble. You take them out then you call me,” he said, reaching into his pocket for one of the burners he kept with his weapons. He flipped it open and punched in something. “My number is in there. Got it?”

“Got it,” I agreed, taking the phone and tucking it into my pocket then reaching for the gun, trying not to think about it too hard. He was right. I needed to be prepared. So I needed to get over whatever hangups I had at the idea of using a gun.

“I won't be long. Two, three hours. Mostly because of the commute. Stay inside. Lock the door behind me. And keep the phone and gun within reach at all times.”

I felt my lips curving up. “I said I got it.”

“Just making sure,” he said, reaching for the back of my neck and hauling me toward him to kiss me. Hard. With lots of tongue. Then he pulled away, grabbed his keys, and walked out the door. “Don't hear the lock, woman!” he called through the closed door and I laughed as I ran to the door and pushed the locks into place.

I stood there listening to his truck pulling away for a while, feeling a strange surge of disappointment.

Which was ridiculous so I moved back toward the kitchen, nabbed my mug, and made my way over to the living room, grabbing my laptop and waking it up.

Then my heart flew into my chest.

Because there was a response.

On the post about Lex.

There was a response.

I clicked the post, scrolling down over all the information I had uploaded to find a comment by someone with the screen name “Jstorm”.

I can help. We need to chat.

I slammed my mug down on the table, not even noticing that the coffee splashed all over the surface as my hands flew across the keypad.