Текст книги "Monster"
Автор книги: Jessica Gadziala
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Текущая страница: 11 (всего у книги 15 страниц)
And, yes, it was nonsensical.
But Breaker meant something to me.
There was even a small voice inside that suggested that maybe he meant everything to me.
But that was all the more reason I needed to go.
To save him.
To save him from trying to save me.
And losing his life or Shooter's life in the process.
I couldn't let that happen.
I needed to go.
I slammed my laptop shut, moving quickly across Breaker's house. I slipped into jeans and my boots, threw on an extra layer under my sweatshirt, half emptied my duffel, and stowed a change of clothes and my laptop inside to make for light and easy travel.
I looked down at my notebooks, flipping one to the last page and ripping it out.
I had to leave. But I also had to leave a note.
If I didn't, he would think Lex got me. I couldn't have him storming Lex's house looking for me. So I grabbed a pen, I sat down, and I said my last words to Breaker.
And I pretended I did this without crying.
But I cried. A lot. Making the words I wrote swim before my eyes.
I grabbed the gun Breaker left with me, slipping it into my waistband like he did, then tore out of the house.
Seventeen
Breaker
I did a quick job for an old friend– roughing up some jackass who kept trying to shake down his store. I was done in half an hour, relatively clean of blood, and whipped my way through the food store.
I wasn't lying when I said we had gone through all of the food. I meant all I had left was a jar of pickles and some stale crackers in the cabinet. She may have been tiny, but she could sock away almost as much food as I could. It was one of the many things I found amusing about her.
She had changed.
After losing her ex. After crying with me. After drinking with me. After opening up a little... she changed.
She let down the walls enough for me to climb over. To get a solid view of what was on the inside. And I wasn't wrong. I knew I wouldn't be. But it was good to have proof.
Alex Miller wasn't just the hollow eyed, determined hacker with a vendetta whose soul spoke in a language of tears.
She was funny and sweet and had a strong tendency to stick her foot in her mouth and then blush like hell because of it. And that temper of hers? Yeah, it wasn't just about shit she found important. The day she was hungover as fuck, she went balls to the wall about a god damn character from a movie.
I fucked her until she forgot what her argument was.
I also caught her singing daily. Sometimes multiple times a day. Like she forgot I was mulling around. Or like she was comfortable enough with my presence that she didn't care that I overheard. Several times, it was that song about smiling. Other times, it was other oldies. Almost exclusively songs about rising above something or choosing to keep your chin up despite the hard times. I wondered if that was because of her mother. If that was the kind of music she played or sang for Alex growing up.
She liked carbs more than she liked protein. Always plowing through her sides at dinner and then picking at the meat with a sort of disinterest. She forgot to run a brush through her hair until it was in tangles. She hated action movies and wouldn't even talk about watching anything with horror. She said real life was awful enough, that if she was going to escape for a while, she wanted to escape into something that made her laugh. So we watched comedies. She laughed. I laughed at her laughing.
I threw things into my cart, pausing in the chip aisle and grabbing a bag of cheese curls. The puffed kind. Which was, apparently, the superior ones. I had gone my entire life without forming that kind of opinion about snack foods.
“Man, you got blood on your sleeve,” a familiar voice said, sounding amused.
I turned, seeing Paine standing there, one of his arms thrown around his mother's shoulders.
“Heya darlin',” she greeted me warmly, like she always did, completely ignoring the blood topic. Like she always did. “I gotta go grab a roast for dinner. Paine, baby, I'll catch up with you by the register.”
And with that, she was pushing her cart away from us.
“You don't call and fucking tell me you're still alive? When you're dealing with that son of a bitch?”
Shit. Yeah. That was stupid.
“Sorry, man. I've been busy.”
At that, Paine's eyes roamed over to look in my cart and the sides of his lips quirked up. “I see that. She worth all the trouble you getting yourself into?”
“You know the answer to that,” I hedged, not quite at the point where I felt like I could admit out loud to someone else that I had less than professional feelings about Alex. It was too soon. I wasn't the kind of guy who got feelings about any god damn thing.
“Shoot?” he asked, a look of hardness going across his face, like he was preparing for the worst.
“Far as I know still pissin' off the guys holding him. Saw him once. Alex slipped him a knife. He has a chance.”
“And...”
“And I'm supposed to hold onto her until she is not useful to him anymore.”
“How the fuck you get yourself into this mess?” he asked loudly, making a group of women at the end of the aisle jump and look over. Paine sent them a killer smile and they flushed and wandered off. Smooth fuck he was.
“Dunno man. But I am gonna get us all out of it. Get us out of here.”
Paine nodded. “You need anything...”
“Ain't getting you involved in this too. It's bad enough that you've been seen with me at all.”
“Just sayin'. Shit goes down, you got nowhere else to turn, you got me.”
Paine wasn't in my life. Not the dark side. He was in the drinking and chilling and bitches side of my life. But he knew all about the dark. He shared a bottle with me on the nights when the blood on my hands wouldn't let me sleep. He helped me pull Shoot back from the brink of death when he got his ass handed to him by three pussies who jumped him in an alley 'cause they knew he carried around bank.
He kept his head in my business, but his hands out of it.
That was the way I wanted to keep it.
For him. And his family.
No matter what shit went down, no matter if I had nowhere else to turn, he wasn't getting into my shit.
“I know, man,” I said though, because he wouldn't give in until he got what he needed to hear. “Go meet your Ma. I gotta go back and check on my girl.”
My?
My?
Jesus Christ. She wasn't mine.
As if sensing my internal battle, Paine threw his head back and laughed, the sound filling the store. “Oh, that's rich. Holy fuckin' shit. I never thought I'd see the day.”
“What day?” I asked, feeling my jaw getting tight.
“The day you caught yourself feelings over some chick,” he clarified, still chuckling.
“I don't...” I started, knowing damn well I did.
“Oh, save it,” he said, slamming a hand down on my shoulder. “Didn't say it was a bad thing. Just said I'd never thought I'd see the day. Go get your food and get back to your woman,” he said, moving toward the front of the store.
“She ain't my woman,” I called back loudly.
“Keep trying to tell yourself that, man,” he said before disappearing.
I sighed, finishing the shopping and driving back toward the house with a heavier feeling than when I left. Not because I didn't know it was happening. I did. I wasn't stupid.
I spent a lot of time with women. Most of that time though usually was spent inside of them. And then I was gone. I didn't usually stick around to get to know them. And even if I did... they never interested me.
Alex was interesting. She was twisted and dark and warped. But at the same time, she was sweet, and funny (though she didn't think so), smart, and dedicated.
She didn't flinch away from my dark or try to shine a light into it. Because she was living in the same depths as I was. We just... got that about each other.
I gave a shit that she was breathing.
I wanted to make sure she kept on doing that.
No matter what that took.
So I could get more time with her.
I pulled up to the house, rounded up the bags, and made my way to the door.
“Alex, open up, doll. Hands are full!” I yelled, kicking at the door.
But there was no answer.
Immediately, I felt my guts clench as I dropped the bags on the front step and reached for the handle. And it turned in my hand.
It fuckin' turned in my hand.
The air just... left my body as I reached behind me for my gun at the same time I threw the door open.
“Alex!” I called, moving in. Nothing. No sign of struggle in the kitchen or living room. I moved to the bathroom. Then the bedroom.
And that was where I found her clothes upturned on the floor next to the pile of her notebooks. No bag.
Her bag was gone. I flew back out to the living room, trying to make that information make sense.
My eyes landed on the coffee table to find her coffee cup there from earlier, the contents spilled slightly over. Like she had put it down in a rush.
Her laptop was gone.
Her bag and her laptop were gone.
My gun lowered, the feeling of dread replacing the urgent rush of fear and worry.
Then I glanced back over to the table, finding my laptop there, a notebook piece of paper folded on top with my name scrawled across it.
It was then I knew.
For sure knew.
All the pieces fell into place and the puzzle got glued together.
She was gone.
But she wasn't taken.
No.
She left me.
“Fuck!” I yelled, throwing the gun down on the couch and reaching for the note. A part of me didn't want to read it. Didn't want to know what it said. What could it say that would make it alright that she waited for me to leave her for the first time so she could slip out? Was that the plan all along? Was she just fuckin' using me? Letting me use her body so I didn't get suspicious? So I didn't know she was going to run off all along?
Mother fuckin' stupid of me.
I knew better.
I flipped open the note on a growl.
Breaker,
First. I'm sorry for the heart attack. I know coming back and finding the place empty must have sucked. But it couldn't be helped. I swear. This is for the best. You can't protect me and Shoot at the same time. It's not possible. You were always going to have to choose. You know that. No way was Lex going to let you have both of us. That's not how he works. You need to choose Shoot.
So I am making that an easy choice for you.
I got word back from the post. Someone else is taking over. Maybe it will even be done before you have to worry about Lex being back. I don't know. I wasn't privy to the plan. All I know is that it is being handled and I was told I needed to get gone.
This wasn't some master plan I had been plotting.
This was what I was told to do.
But even you have to see it was the only way.
I didn't want to leave.
And I know you only said it because I was upset about Glenn and crying all over you– but you saying you cared about me meant something to me. I care about you too. You showed me a little bit of what life could be like when I finally let go of my mom and Lex and Glenn. You made me believe that I might have something to live for after all. So that is what I am trying to do– making sure that we all go on living through this.
I'll be okay.
Save Shoot.
Get gone too.
Thank you for everything.
Alex
Someone else was in on it. I flew at my laptop, waking it up, and opening up the dark net Alex had left open. The post came up and I refreshed it, scrolling down until I found the comment.
Jstorm.
Whoever the new player was, they were sticking their fucking nose where it didn't belong. It wasn't their place to tell her to leave me. I could protect her. Now she was out there somewhere on her own.
She was smart. She was tech savvy.
But she didn't know shit about disappearing. About being off the grid.
And she damn sure didn't know what the fuck to do if she ever thought someone was onto her.
Maybe this Jstorm person would help her. Get her on her feet somewhere safe before he stuck his nose into everything and pissed off Lex.
But there was an equally good chance of that not happening. Of Alex being all on her own. And all it would take would be one misstep for Lex to find her.
I had to fuckin' find her first.
I grabbed my gun, tucking it into my jeans, then went back outside, ignoring the grocery bags as I looked around.
I saw her foot prints in the moist dirt on the side of the house, leading all the way down the drive. Yet more proof of how unprepared she was. Why run on the dirt and leave prints when you could run on the gravel and be a ghost?
God damn it.
I followed them down the road, seeing them taper off so I crossed the pavement to the other side next to a downed stop sign and saw them pick up again, heading into the woods. The woods weren't an altogether bad idea. If you knew where you were going. If you knew what the fuck to do if you came across a bear.
Both things that I was sure Alex knew nothing about. Her prints got deep beside a tree stump, like she stopped there. So I did too. Seeing a white garbage bag stuck under the tree. Something was there. Wrapped up in the bag. Something Alex took with her. Something this Jstorm person must have put there for her. Meaning Jstorm knew where she was living temporarily. They knew they could talk her into leaving. They gave her something.
What?
Supplies.
Money?
Survival gear?
Either was good. Either meant she had a better chance of getting gone.
I wondered how long she had been on her feet. If there was some other plan. If she was supposed to get her supplies and meet a cab or bus or train somewhere? Was she still in the woods?
There were too many leads and not enough time to follow any of them down before she was gone for good.
I got back onto my feet, following the footprints until they disappeared into the dead-leaf underbrush.
Fuck.
I made my way back to the house, going straight to my computer and bringing up the post, addressing the stupid fuck Jstorm.
Hope you're happy, fucker. You just signed her death certificate.
Maybe it was a little childish. Maybe Jstorm would never see it. But it needed to be said. It needed to be put out there. She wasn't safe on her own. If something happened to her, I wanted Jstorm to know it was on his head.
There was a refreshing of the page and a reply was made on my comment.
She follows instructions, she's safe. Worry about Shooter and yourself. I'm dealing with Lex.
I didn't bother to reply. If they were that cocky, they were stupid. If they were stupid, there was no reason to argue with them. It would lead nowhere.
I sat there, watching the afternoon lead way to evening and the darkness blanketing the world
She could still be out there. In the woods. At night.
It was cold at night.
She didn't even have a fuckin' jacket.
My phone rang in my pocket and I fumbled for it with a surge of hope. She had my number. The burner wasn't left behind. It hadn't escaped my notice that neither was the gun. She had it, she had my number. If she really found herself in a bad place, she would call.
“Yo.”
“Breaker...” Lex's slimy voice said into my ear, making the hope plummet with a sickening crash.
“Lex,” I said, trying to force my voice to be casual. Nothing was wrong. Nothing was off. Everything was going according to his plan. I was just his puppet like he wanted me to be.
“How's my girl?”
“She eats like a teenage boy,” I supplied, hedging. It was true. It would ring true to his keen ears.
“Well, you won't have to worry about feeding her for long. I will be back the day after tomorrow and I need you to bring her to my house.”
His house.
Fuck.
God damn it.
How the hell was I going to get myself out of this?
“Alright, Lex. What time?”
“Breaker, my man, you sound stressed.”
“Anxious to get onto my next job.” Killing your sorry ass. For Alex. And Shoot. Any myself.
“I understand. As I said, just another day and a half. Seven in the evening should work for me.”
“Right,” I said, shaking my head at myself.
Janitor. Used car salesman. Guinea pig trainer. I shoulda made a career change by the time I turned thirty. Before it was already too late.
“You will drop the girl and get your friend in trade.”
“Wonderful.”
“And the rest of your money, of course.”
Money I had every intention of using for fireplace kindling. I didn't want his fuckin' money.
“Right.”
“See you then.
“Yep.”
I threw the phone on the couch, raking my hands down my face, trying to think of any way out of the shitstorm of a situation.
I didn't show up, Shoot died.
I did show up without Alex, we would probably both die.
But at least we would do it together.
Seemed like an almost fitting end to two lifetime criminals. Two people no one knew well enough to miss. Except for Paine and maybe Alex if she ever learned what happened.
She said she cared.
She said I gave her a reason to believe life was worth living.
Fuckin' A.
It wasn't just that she was an important piece on the chessboard we were playing with Lex. It wasn't just that she was an innocent thinking she could make it on her own like a five year old running away from home.
I just... I fuckin' wanted her back.
If I lived through the week, I wanted her there with me, getting the fuck out of this shit town once and for all and building a new life. I wanted her there. In my bed. Across from me eating dinner, trying to bite her tongue about how much more comfortable it would be to eat in bed. Laughing with me and Shoot over some stupid comedy.
If I lived, she had somehow become part of my future plans.
And I didn't even know where the fuck she was.
God damn it.
And I only had a day and a half to figure out where she was and come up with a plan that didn't ensure bloodshed and death. Well, at least not ours.
I got up from the couch and made my way out to my truck.
A day and a half.
Either way, I was walking into Lex's house in less than thirty-six hours.
Come what may.
Eighteen
Alex
Okay. It was cold. Like cold cold. The kind of cold that seeps into your bones and makes you feel like you'll never get warm again. It was also dark. And the woods were creepy as hell. And with just a map with a line drawn for where the woods would break to a side road, I was not feeling super confident that leaving was the right choice after all.
Well, no. That's not true. It was the right choice. For Breaker and Shooter. My leaving didn't make things simple. Breaker was going to have to come up with some excuse for where I was. Or find a way into Lex's to get Shooter back before Lex called him. But that was something I had confidence they could handle. They were professionals. They got themselves into and out of situations all the time. They would be fine.
Or, at least, that was what I had to keep telling myself or I wouldn't have the will to keep pressing on. As it was, each step sent a stab into the vicinity of my chest.
Which was something I was trying to ignore.
I was just starting to lose faith in Jstorm (whilst cursing myself for being such a fool) when the line of trees finally broke and there was, at last, a paved side road. No houses that I could see. Or businesses for that matter. Just a road. My instructions ended after finding the road. So I figured that meant I was on my own.
Which was fine.
I had been on my own all my life.
I was used to it.
Until Breaker.
God damn it.
I pushed that thought away. It wouldn't help. It wasn't going to help me press on, thinking about how nice it was to not have the weight of every decision weighing on me. To know I could share it– hash it out– make a mutual decision.
Just a short stay with Breaker and my life had changed so much. Hell, I didn't even have to wonder about what I was going to eat because Breaker cooked. He let me try once and I succeeded in somehow turning a box of angel hair pasta into one giant, doughy glob of disgustingness that even I couldn't palate and I had been surviving on sodium-laden ramen and old Chinese for longer than I cared to admit.
Breaker had just laughed, tossed the pasta, and made a fresh batch that came out annoyingly perfect.
I knew I had only gotten a small view of his life. A life when he was home which, he admitted, wasn't often. He was off on jobs all the time. In town. Out of town. All around the country. I only got to see vacation Breaker. I didn't see him coming in covered in blood. I didn't see him coming in covered in gashes and bruises. Things I knew happened frequently because his body had more scars than I could count. I didn't know what it was like to worry about him not making it back.
I got only a small view of his lifestyle.
But I feel like I got a full view of him. As a person.
And I liked what I saw.
Too much.
I've never known much about relationships between people. I had never been given the opportunity to get close with another person. And maybe that could be blamed for the irrational, overwhelming connection I felt to him.
I knew nothing about love. But it took six kisses to get from his mouth to his ear. Nine, ear to collarbone. Sixteen, collarbone to hipbone. And sometimes, when he was tired, he was ticklish right there in that hollow. No, I knew nothing about love. But I swear all I wanted to do for the rest of my life was lie on his chest, stealing his warmth, feeling him trace shapes into my hip. I wanted to slip my fingers in between his. There were seventeen scars on his hands. I wanted to know the story of every last one.
If that wasn't love... well, then I didn't know what was.
It didn't matter that it was too soon.
It didn't matter that it flashed brilliant and then I had to extinguish it before I even got a chance to bask in the heat. It didn't matter that I would never feel his hands on my skin anymore, hear my name shiver off his tongue. It didn't matter that I would walk around missing him and what we had forever.
All that mattered was that he got to go on breathing. Go on receiving kisses. Giving warmth. Making perfect pasta. Even if it was for other women. Maybe especially if it was for other women. Women like me. Women who never knew a touch that sent currents through their body. Women who didn't know how nice it was to have someone to bounce ideas off of. Women whose lives would be forever changed just by knowing him briefly.
That was why I was doing what I was doing.
Because the world needed men like Breaker.
I wasn't going to let the world lose him.
I would throw myself in front of Lex first.
I sighed, standing up, and moving down the side road. I had no idea where I was. Where the road led. If I would be happened upon. If there would be anywhere for me to stop and warm up.
It was getting late. It was impossible to tell how late, given the season and the fact that it was dark by five. But I felt like I had been walking for hours. I probably had if the aching in my legs was any proof. But I wasn't familiar with the area where Breaker lived. So I had no idea where the road I was following might lead. Back into town? Which wouldn't be a good thing. I needed to get as far away from town as possible. First, because of Lex and his goons. Second, because if I knew Breaker (and I was pretty sure I did), he would be looking for me too.
I reached into the bag that Jstorm left me, fumbling for the burner, powering it up, and checking the time.
Seven thirty.
I sighed, forcing my legs to keep moving despite the intolerable soreness.
And just when I was thinking it would be better to slip back into the woods unseen and lie down for a while, I saw the neon green motel sign.
With a groan of relief, I pushed my legs to close the distance, throwing open the door to the office and praying there was availability.
“Hey there darlin',” a man's voice greeted me from behind the desk.
I walked over, resting my arms on the desk and looking over to see someone sitting in an old recliner, feet up, watching a game on TV. He was middle aged with thinning dark hair and a beer belly, his round face a little oily. Exactly the kind of man who looked like he ran a rundown motel in the middle of bumfuck nowhere.
“Hey. Are there any rooms?” I asked, reaching into the bag Jstorm left me and dragging out the cash and fake Ids.
“Sure are,” he informed me, lifting his body out of the chair and coming toward the desk. “Just you stayin'?” he asked, his eyes raking down my body in a way that made my mouth taste sour.
“No. My boyfriend just went to grab some takeout.”
At this, he nodded, turning away as if disinterested. And I got the sneaking suspicion that if I hadn't just lied my ass off, there was a chance that he would have shown up at my door later. With a key. And a hand full of roofies.
Gross.
“Well you two can stay in room seven. It's all the way on the end,” he said, handing me a key. As in... a key. Not a credit card key. An actual metal one. Weird. “You putting this on a card or...”
“Cash,” I said immediately.
“Seventy for the night or fifteen for the hour.”
Double gross.
I didn't even know pay-by-the-hour places actually existed.
“Seventy it is,” I said, thumbing through the money and handing him eighty.
“If you need anything at all, darlin', anything at all... you just come here and talk to Bob, okay?”
It took everything I had not to grimace. “Thanks,” I said, taking the ten he was holding out, making sure our fingers didn't so much as touch, shoving the money in my bag, and making my way quickly back out of the office.
Creeps were creeps were creeps.
But Bob who ran a pay-by-the-hour motel and used physical keys (meaning there were very likely duplicates), and referred to himself in the third person? Yeah, that was like... super creepy.
I made my way toward the room at the end, stopping at the vending machine to grab snacks and a drink, then grabbing a bunch of discarded beer bottles off the curb, before sinking my key into the lock and going into my room.
So motels were gross. Didn't matter where they were across the country, they were nasty. Dated wallpaper. Dirty carpets. Old box TVs. A bedspread and sheets that probably hadn't been washed in weeks.
Skanky, skeezy places.
But it was my only option. So I tried to look past the peeling of the dingy brown wallpaper. I kept my eyes off the stained carpets. And I went nowhere near the bed. I dropped all my things on the top of the folding table that had seen better days but looked relatively clean then made my way to the bathroom to check the sink for roaches. Thankfully, none. Then went to the bed, lifting the mattress, and searching for bed bugs. Again, none. But I wasn't taking any chances anyway.
I nabbed the empty bottles off the table, moving to the door, securing the locks and chains, then balancing one bottle on the knob and laying the rest on the floor in front of the door. There was carpet so the bottle on the knob wouldn't break if it fell , but if it fell and landed on the other bottles, I'd hear it. Even if Creepy Bob had a key, there was no way he was getting in without me knowing it.
I washed my hands and went to work on eating though I had no appetite. I hooked up my laptop and linked into the unsecure network the motel offered, checking around online.
Nothing from Jstorm.
Nothing from the posts about Glenn's death.
Just... nothing.
I sighed, plugging in the name of the motel and seeing where I was. What was around. How I could get form where I was to where I was going. Which, well, I had no idea of yet.
Apparently a city bus had a stop right out front and would take me through the town and could drop me off at the train station where I could buy a ticket to any number of places.
Jstorm had the plans all laid out.
I just had to go through the motions.
I sighed, powering down the laptop and dragging the second folding chair closer so I could prop up my legs. I had never been one of those 'can sleep anywhere' kind of people. I needed a bed and a blanket and a pillow. I needed to be able to stretch out. But with the looming threat of Lex, of Creepy Bob, and the very possible incurable disease I could catch from getting within three feet of that bed, well, I was just going to have to learn how to sleep sitting up.
The door to the room next to mine opened and slammed. I heard laughter, a deep male voice, a high female one. Then the bed squeaked loud once. Then, not two minutes later, started squeaking fast and frantic.
Apparently room six had a pay-by-the-hour guest.
Lovely.
I switched on my TV, letting the religion station blare on and on about sin and other shit that didn't mean shit in a sleep-and-fuck motel. Or in the kind of life I lived in in general.
The couple in the next room made mewling and groaning noises. The bed stopped squeaking. There was shuffling. And then the door was closing. Apparently all they needed was twenty minutes.
Sleep was elusive despite my aching body.
I figured this was due, in large part, to the aching somewhere else.
The kind of aching that felt like it was never going to stop hurting.
The kind that only got worse from ignoring it.
So I let down the wall and I let the thoughts come.
I thought about him.
And then I cried, promising myself it was the first and the last time. Not because I thought I would miraculously stop hurting. But because I was going to purge it all right then and there, then lock whatever was left in a chest somewhere deep inside with a note on it to be opened never.
I would never forget. Not really.
But I could disappear.
Start a new life.
Leave this all behind.
Move on.
I hoped.
