Текст книги "Monster"

Автор книги: Jessica Gadziala

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Eight

Alex

I knew what he meant. The second he told me to go to him, I knew. It was in his voice. Lower. Deeper. Almost soft. And it sent a ripple of desire through my system.

The question was... did I want to go to him? Knowing that it wouldn't be another kiss. Knowing his fingers would slide up my thigh, find the sweet spot, work it. Knowing that it wouldn't stop there. That within the next hour, I would know what it felt like to have him inside of me.

And did my libido want that? Hell freaking yeah.

But did I?

I had about thirty seconds to decide, with a clear and rational mind, if it was incredibly twisted and stupid... or the best decision I could make.

To go out with a bang, as it were.

I'd had sex before. Once when I was sixteen. With one of the older kids living at the group home. I don't know why really. I wasn't ready. I barely had a grasp on the concept of sex, let alone the possible physical and emotional repercussions. I long since learned to blame the grief, the loss of everything I knew, the need to feel alive again.

Danny he had been tall and strong with dark hair and piercing green eyes. From the moment I walked into the common room, his eyes were on mine. I learned later that it was because he banged all the new chicks provided they were halfway decent looking. But at the time, I had thought I was special.

Then he started hanging around me, talking sweet, using kid gloves as if sensing (more likely, having known from previous experience) how fragile I was.

A couple days later, I fell onto my back in his bed. He stripped us both, slipped on a condom that had come in a camouflage wrapper that boasted “Don't let them see you coming!”, and slammed inside me. As most would expect (though I was wholly clueless), it hurt like a bitch. But was thankfully over in under five minutes.

I found out later that while he was fucking me, his buddies were stealing my shit.

A few days later, I was moved to a foster house.

I didn't have sex again until I was nineteen. Though I did have the unfortunate repeat occurrence of fending off at least three of my foster fathers and then pretending I didn't notice the fourth one would come in and jerk off while watching me 'sleep'.

The guy when I was nineteen was names Glenn and was someone who had taken time out of his life to sit me down and teach me all the things about computers and hacking that I hadn't already picked up– the skills that would allow me to make a living of it. And gather better information on Lex.

I guess it could be said that I fucked him out of gratitude. I had nothing else to offer.

And he was nice enough. Twenty-five, a little short, kinda pudgy, with pasty white skin and big black-rimmed glasses. He could have been cute had he put any kind of effort into his appearance or wardrobe. There was none of the rough hands and frantic stabbing of a cock that my first partner provided me with. Glenn had hot hands, always just shy of truly clammy. But they always touched me softly, hesitantly. And his cock had only ever seemed half-hard when he got it inside me, slid around for a few minutes, made a choking sound in his throat, and came.

Such was sex for me.

So experience hadn't exactly suggested it would be a fun way to spend what little time I obviously had left.

But that being said, Good Guy Glenn and Dickhead Danny were not Breaker. They had been man-boys. They had been guys with cocks and no idea how to use them.

Something told me that Breaker knew how to use his.

And my body responded to that.

It had never done that before.

Sex had been a weird detached sensation.

Certainly not hot.

Nothing like the fire I felt when Breaker's lips were on me.

And if he could manage that with just his lips, what could he do with the rest of him?

Maybe I owed it to myself to see.

With that, I folded my legs up under myself and moved until I was kneeling beside his body on the couch, my knees pressing against his thigh.

His eyes found mine a second before his hands went out, grabbing my hips, and pulling me roughly until I was straddling his waist.

I had the almost blinding realization that I was completely naked underneath his tee before his fingers pressed into my hipbone hollows, drawing a throaty groan out of my lips and making me forget all about unimportant things like panties.

My hands went to his chest, pressing down both to steady myself and to feel connected to him.

He was barely touching me and I could feel the pulsating desire between my thighs.

“You want more, you're gonna have to take it,” he said, making my body jerk back slightly. Take it? Take what? As if sensing my confusion, he added, “I ain't no slow and sweet lover, doll. I fuck hard and rough and you'll probably walk away from this with some bruises along with your memories. You accept that? You want that? Then you are gonna make the first move.”

Oh.

Well.

Okay then.

I was pretty sure I wanted that.

I had never needed to initiate before. Douchebag Danny had pounced on me. Shy, awkward Glenn had kinda just fumbled around until I responded. Sort of.

I was pretty sure I could initiate. I wasn't sure what kind of initiative he was expecting, but I slowly leaned forward, my hands pressing harder against his chest as they took some of my weight and pressed my lips to his.

Apparently, that was enough.

His hands slid from my hips, going around my lower back and completely flattening my body to his. Then one of his arms moved up my back, his hand grabbing the back of my neck hard as his head tilted and he deepened the kiss, his teeth snagging my lower lip hard and pulling. Unprepared, my hips jerked, rubbing against his, finding his cock straining hard against the material of his jeans.

Breaker's tongue slipped inside my mouth, repeating the same predatory mating dance it had the last time, promising things as well as demanding them. My hands moved up toward his shoulders, curling in, feeling like I needed to hold on. The arm around my lower back tightened and pushed down until I felt the exposed sensitivity of my sex brush against the rough material containing his cock. A surprised gasp escaped my lips and a growl burst from his, his mouth pulling from mine, his eyes holding mine as he pulled my hips across his hardness.

My hands curled into the skin on the sides of his neck, my mouth falling open on a huff of air.

His hand released the back of my neck, his fingers moving around to brush ever-so slightly over the skin near my collarbone, making a shiver course through my body.

“You're so sensitive,” he said, his voice even deeper than usual and it sent a shiver to somewhere he couldn't see but I could feel all too clearly. “Arms up, doll,” he instructed, both of his hands sliding down to settle at the hem of his tee that was inched up high on my thighs. My arms went up above my head and with no pretense, he whipped the material off my body, leaving me naked on top of him while he was still completely dressed. “Fuck me,” he said under his breath, his hands planting on the sides of my thighs while his eyes roamed over my body.

I had never had much cause to feel insecurity. Given that I spent almost all of my time alone, wearing whatever I wanted, foregoing makeup, barely bothering to run a brush through my hair some days, it never much occurred to me to feel much of anything about my body.

I knew most would feel self-consciousness in my position.

But Breaker's ice blue eyes raked over me like I was something of a wonder, something to be memorized, something he never wanted to forget.

So it didn't even occur to me to feel like I should hide that from him. Or even want to.

His hands slid up my thighs, over my hips, up my sides, then rested, spanning out on my rib cage, the bottoms of his thumbs brushing up against the undersides of my breasts.

His eyes went up to mine and held as his hands moved up and cupped my breasts, squeezing hard. My nipples hardened under his palms and my chest felt suddenly weighted, a heaviness there that I had never experienced before.

My brows drew together questioningly, but before he could even register the expression, he was moving. Knifing up from his position whilst slamming my back against the cushions of the couch and coming down on top of me, his lips taking possession of mine again.

My legs struggled underneath his, trying to break free. He brought a knee up between them, lifting some of his weight and I yanked my legs from under him and wrapped them around his back, pulling him down on me again. He made a grunting noise as his mouth lifted, running down the side of my neck, his beard burning across my skin as his teeth nipped into it.

And it was new.

Everything about what I was feeling was new. Foreign. But still somehow familiar. Like it had always been there, sleeping under the surface, waiting for someone to wake it up.

It was awake.

And it was consuming.

Like being on fire. That was what being with Breaker felt like... like I was burning, but blissfully sinking into the sensation, wanting to go deeper and deeper to see where I ended up, even if that meant in ashes.

Breaker's head tilted and moved down between my breasts, his beard tickling across my overly sensitive skin before his lips closed around my nipple and sucked hard. I arched off the couch, pushing myself further into his mouth, my hand slapping down on the back of his neck, holding him to me. Wanting, needing more.

His head pulled against my restraint but only to shift and take possession of my other nipple, sucking for a minute before nipping into it hard enough for me to yelp and jerk away.

To this, his head tilted to look up at me, a devilish smile playing at his lips.

He rested his weight on one of his forearms beside me, lifting slightly off my body to give him access. His head raised above mine, watching my face as his hand slid across my ribs, down my side, over my stomach. Then he paused, the smile coming back to his lips a split second before his hand flew between my thighs, stroking up my slick cleft.

My entire body jerked upward, my mouth opening to moan as my hand slapped down hard on his shoulder.

“Fuckin' drenched,” he growled, his finger sliding upward and finding my clit, circling it quickly.

No. Nothing had ever come close to this before.

This overwhelming sensation.

The feeling like I was going to explode and fall apart.

But not wanting to do anything but experience it.

My heart rate sped up. My pulse pounded hard in my throat and temples.

Then just as quickly as he touched me, he pulled his finger away, chuckling when I whimpered and ground my hips up toward him. He brought his hand up, taking his finger and slipping it into his mouth, tasting me.

I felt the blush heat my cheeks as I watched on helplessly, both embarrassed and too turned on to look away.

He made some sort of approving sound in his throat, pulling his finger out. “Remember what I said about getting my tongue in some pussy?” he asked, surprising me.

I did. I seemed to remember everything he said.

“That you do it if it's real sweet?” I half declared, half asked.

He nodded slightly. “You got a real sweet fuckin' pussy, doll,” he said, smiling again as he shifted his weight, leaned down, and trailed his tongue down the center of my belly.

My hand slipped into his hair as he moved downward, his head tilting by my hip. Then his teeth dug into my inner thigh.

“Fuck,” I growled, my hands curling in his hair. Then his head shifted again and his tongue traced the path his finger had blazed earlier, not hesitating, not teasing, just sliding up and landing on the sweet spot, circling it with a light but firm pressure. “Oh my god...” I groaned, my hips rising up to meet him, my back arching off the cushions.

There was a tightening in my core, like a coil pulled too taut. My breath became ragged and shallow as his tongue drove me upward, closer and closer to something promising fireworks.

His lips went around my clit, sucking gently, making me buck beneath him.

And that's when I heard it. A ringing. And felt it. A vibrating. Against my calf. His cell was ringing.

I felt the desire being pulled back slightly, opening my eyes to look down at him. But he was either oblivious to it or simply ignoring it, his lips releasing the sensitive point and his tongue continuing its torture. His hand slid beneath him and I felt his finger pulsing at my entrance before quickly pushing in to the hilt.

“Breaker...” I moaned, both my hands clutching at his head.

There was a brief silence of his cell before it began ringing again.

“Fuck,” he growled, lifting his head off of me, letting his eyes rise to mine. “Sorry, baby... gotta take this,” he said, his finger sliding out of me as he moved to sit by my feet and pull his cell out of his pocket.

Almost as a second thought, I pressed my thighs together, knees at an angle to one side. I pushed them closed firmly, feeling the insistent throbbing of unfulfilled desire settling in.

I was only half aware of Breaker as my system seemed to be on high alert, sending off sparks of energy through my nerve endings, making my body feel like it was jerking with the sensation.

“Yo,” Breaker's voice said into his phone, his eyes turning suddenly to look at me and I swear I saw regret there as he watched me struggle to bring back control. And then his face went hard. All the softness left his eyes and they became ice. “Shoot?”

The last dregs of desire got shoved away as I flew upward, wrapping my arms around my calves and trying to overhear the talking on the other end of the phone. Breaker's eyes were still on mine, but somehow not seeing me.

“Where are you?”

“How are you calling me then?”

“Why?”

“He there?”

“Stop trying to piss them off and give me the details, man.”

Piss them off? Why would Shooter be trying to piss off Lex's guys?

“Negotiate what?”

Negotiate? Why would he want to negotiate? Did he know that we were working together? What we were doing? Was he going to try to convince Breaker to hand me over?

My eyes flew to the laptop, still up on the forum. No response. But that wasn't surprising. It was too soon. My eyes went back to Breaker's.

“You gonna be there?”

Breaker snorted, rolling his eyes.

“Alright. Two hours. See you then.”

“Yeah?”

Breaker's eyes seemed to refocus on me suddenly, taking my face in like he was seeing me for the first time.

“I know.”

And then he pulled the phone from his ear and shoved it back in his pocket.

I took a deep breath, feeling like it made my insides shaky as it moved down. “That was Shooter?”

“Yeah.”

“We need to go meet with Lex,” I said, hoping the fear didn't seep into my words.

“Yeah, doll.”

“Okay,” I said, hugging my knees to my chest tighter.

Breaker saw the motion and his eyes softened again, letting out his held breath. Then he did the strangest thing. He leaned downward toward my knee, watching me, and bit into it.

“Hopefully we get a chance to finish what we started,” he said, resting his head on my knee. “If not... it'd be a fuckin' shame. You got the tightest fuckin' cunt I've ever felt.”

Okay.

So he said that.

And I felt another whole body shiver course through me.

Breaker caught it and sighed.

“I need to get dressed,” I said numbly, watching him.

“Yeah,” he agreed. “In the old clothes,” he said unnecessarily.

My hand went to my suddenly very wobbly belly. “I wish I hadn't eaten that,” I said, looking over at the food on the table.

Breaker's hand slid down my calf, landing on my ankle, and squeezing. “I'd like to say that everything is going to be okay...” he started.

“It's okay,” I said, shaking my head.

He had no words of comfort because there were none.

There was no way to ease the nerves.

Because there was no possible positive outcome to the situation.

I was going to be dead. Soon. One way or another.

Grimly, I uncurled from myself. There was no use delaying the inevitable I guessed. I reached down for the tee Breaker had pulled off of me and slipped back into it quickly before I made my way back to the bathroom where my old pajamas were still piled on the floor.

Through this, Breaker said nothing.

His eyes didn't even follow me.

I knew this because when I turned to close the door, I caught sight of him, bent forward so his elbows were on his knees, staring at the laptop like it held all the answers.

But it didn't.

And now it never would.

Nine

Breaker

The second I had her straddling my lap, I knew she was gonna be trouble. Not because, well, she already fuckin' was in more ways than one, but because I wanted her too much too soon. And it wasn't the hollow 'that'll do' that I felt for random bar sluts or chicks I ran across on the town. No, it was different. Stronger somehow. It wasn't just an itch to scratch. I wanted to fuck her seven ways to fuckin' Sunday then twice more just for good measure.

Maybe a part of it had to do with how she reacted. How responsive her body was to every little touch. It was like she was constantly teetering on the edge of a soul-crushing orgasm. And fuck if I didn't want to be a part of that. To feel it around my fingers, around my cock, to hear her scream my name, dig her nails into my back.

Yeah. Fuckin' trouble.

I ignored the cell ringing in my pocket while I listened to her moan and felt her writhe, more interested in getting her off than the phone I always picked up by the second ring. But when it stopped, then started up the second time, well... it had to be important.

I sat back, watching her snap her legs closed and fight to steady her breathing, her body shaking slightly in the unfulfilled need. Had to say it didn't exactly hurt my pride to see her like that, but fuck if I didn't want to throw the phone across the room and dive back between her thighs and finish her off.

That was, until I answered the call.

“Yo.”

“You know it's rude to screen your calls these days, man. Unless you're balls deep in some good pussy,” Shooter's voice said through the phone, his tone as casual as ever.

“Shoot?”

At this, a dry laugh. “Who the fuck else would be calling?”

“Where are you?”

When he spoke, his nonchalance was so strong you could practically hear a shrug in his voice, “Same place I've been for the past week. Some shit basement with no wifi, man.”

I fought the urge to snort. “How are you calling me then?”

“Lex wants a meeting,” he said, his tone a little more clipped. He paused as if weighing the next words. “With you and the girl.”

Fuck. Great.

“Why?”

“Think I'm privy to that information, man?” he asked, making it sound like he had been trying to get more. Good old Shoot. Always with his head in the game even when he was being used as a bargaining chip.

“He there?” I asked, wondering how far I could push questioning him.

“No. Just one of his lackeys. Limp Dick Rick or somethin',” he said and I could practically see him smirking at the man in question. “You know how much these fuckers like their nicknames,” he went on and I heard the distinct sound of fist hitting skin followed by the whooshing of air out of Shoot's mouth. No groan. No sign of pain. Then a chuckle. He was a crazy fuck.

“Stop trying to piss them off and give me the details, man.”

“Hey gotta get my entertainment somehow,” he said, sounding no worse for the wear. “Two hours. In the train car. He said to be prepared to negotiate.”

That didn't sound good.

“Negotiate what?”

“Didn't say. You know the deal with him.”

Fuck yeah I did. And that didn't speak well for our upcoming little meeting.

“You gonna be there?”

“With bells on. You know... or cuffs. Whatever,” Shoot went on.

I snorted, feeling my eyes roll. It was like Shoot was biologically incapable of taking serious shit seriously.

“Alright. Two hours. See you then.”

There was a pause, the silence full of something before he spoke again.

“Hey Breaker?”

“Yeah?” I asked, not liking his tone.

Another pause. “She's an innocent,” he reminded me.

My eyes went to Alex's, finding her watching me intently.

I knew what Shoot was saying. It was the same thing Paine had said. It was the same thing I had been thinking. Me and Shoot, we chose this life. We danced with death every time we took a job. We aligned ourselves with people who could very well order our hit some day. We knew the risks. We took them willingly. We were guilty in every way possible. Whatever happened to us, we deserved it. We earned every kind of possible punishment. To the grave and beyond.

But that wasn't Alex.

Yeah, she got herself into some deep shit. Shit she wasn't prepared to handle, least of all on her own. But she did it because she felt like she had to. She did it for all those women in all those pictures she had on file. The pictures that made her look green. She wasn't jaded to the shit that was going down. She was enraged by it. Horrified by it. But she used that as the drive to try to end it. It was sweet and naive and hopeful of her.

And incredibly fuckin' stupid.

But also... innocent.

“I know,” I said, hanging up the phone.

Alex walked to the bathroom to get changed while I stared at the forum on my laptop. I didn't know what kind of people she knew on the dark net. All the people I knew who routinely used it were scum of the earth. But if Alex said there were good guys out there– truth seekers, vigilante justice fighters, whatever the fuck she thought they were, then I had to trust her on that. I just wished they were paying attention. That they were going to offer some kind of solution.

Because I had shit.

I was going to take her to that train car because I had no choice. And then fuck-knew what was going to happen there. I needed to save her. And I needed to save Shoot. And I had no idea how I was going to pull that off. Or even if I would be given the opportunity. For all I knew, he was going to have me there to shoot me. It was his style. Kill Shooter. Torture Alex. Then kill me. He had a thing for flamboyant displays of violence. And he liked knowing he got under your skin.

So I needed to make it clear Alex meant nothing to me.

Wasn't sure how well I'd pull that off, but I had to try.

Shoot, well, that was another story.

If he knew Shooter was a good person to pick up and hold, then he already knew the bond we had. There was no pretending he didn't mean something.

He would expect me to want to protect him.

I heard Alex come back from the bathroom in her dirty clothes, holding her boots in her hands.

“I know I'm supposed to be wearing what I wore when you took me, but I have nowhere else to store the heroin,” she said casually, shrugging a shoulder.

“Not a detail I think he will notice,” I said back, watching as she sat down beside me and slipped her shoes on, keeping the laces loose enough for her hand to slip down inside them if she needed to.

Still no reaction. Still as cool as could be about the whole situation.

If, by some miracle, we both lived through the night, I intended to figure out what was wrong with her. What kind of life she had led to make her so collected in the face of her own death?

What kind of person doesn't feel some sort of grief about it?

Hell, if I knew for damn sure I was looking down the barrel holding a bullet with my name on it, even I'd feel something. Think about all the bitches I didn't get to fuck. All the whiskey I didn't get to drink. All the vacations I never took. All the retirement plans Shoot and I had bullshitted about that never happened. Maybe think about not getting the chance to find some bitch I liked enough to strap myself to and let her give me a rugrat to drive me nuts for the next twenty years.

Something.

Everyone should want to live for something.

As the old saying went... Alex was going to die for nothing.

“Are you bringing any weapons?” Alex asked and I noticed she had been staring at me. For how long, I had no idea.

I nodded, getting off the couch and moving toward the closet in the kitchen that was supposed to be a small pantry. I pulled open the door, feeling Alex's presence behind me, looking in on the four shelves of guns, ammo, knives, stun guns, handcuffs, chains, brass knuckles– the works. I still had my Desert Eagle in my truck and that was gonna go right back in my waistband, but I grabbed a knife and slipped it into my pocket, grabbed a second gun and a strap to put around my ankle.

If I hadn't turned and stooped to attach the strap to said ankle, I might have seen Alex grab a pocketknife and slip it into the boot that wasn't holding the heroin.

“Do I look too clean?” she asked as I stood back up.

I felt my brows drawing together, looking at her dust stained clothes. “What?”

“Like my face and arms and hair. Am I too clean? Should I try to muss myself up a little?”

At that, I felt a smile tugging at my lips. “Muss yourself up a little?”

“Yeah. So it's convincing.”

“So what is convincing, doll?”

“That you've been keeping me prisoner like instructed.”

“The job was to grab you and hold onto you. No one said I couldn't let you shower and eat.”

“Oh,” she said, looking out the window.

“You alright?” I asked, taking in her drawn-together brows.

She turned back to me with an odd little smirk. “I guess it's as good a day as any to die, right?” As if sensing that was the wrong thing to say, she rushed on, changing the subject. “Did Shooter sound like he was okay?”

“He was poking fun at the guard assigned to him, getting his face bashed into while we were talking. So, yeah, he's good.”

Her brow went up. “Getting beat is... good?”

I felt my shoulder shrug. “Shoot is a smartass with a runaway tongue. If he's still sticking his foot in his own mouth, they haven't broken him yet.”

“Oh. Okay. So... he's gonna be there?” she asked, her words tense. Like she knew that was a bad complication.

“Yeah.”

She reached up, running a hand through her mostly dry hair, making it gently slide back into place. She sighed, nodding, accepting the added trouble. “You'll get him out of there,” she said confidently.

“Doll, it ain't just him I got...”

She held up a hand and it was so ridiculous a gesture (who held up hands to silence people anymore?) that I stopped talking and raised a brow.

“You worry about your friend. First and foremost. Don't go getting yourself in trouble because I screwed up and got myself in a bad situation. This isn't your job to fix this. So take care of your friend and let me handle myself.”

With that, she turned on her heel and stalked to my front door. I ran a hand up one of the sides of my head, feeling the short hair catch at my skin.

This was going to be a clusterfuck.

I had to somehow protect Shoot. Who wanted me to forget about him and take care of Alex. And at the same time protect Alex who wanted me to take care of Shoot because her plan was to kill herself. Meanwhile trying to not piss off the notoriously mercurial and volatile Lex Keith who was fully capable of having us all killed at once.

Jesus Christ.

I lived through this, I needed to find a new fuckin' job.

Janitor. Used car salesman. Guinea pig trainer.

Fuckin' anything that didn't all but guarantee blood and terror at every turn.

I sighed, grabbing my keys, and making my way outside.

Alex was already sitting in the car, buckled up, calmly pushing back the cuticles on her nails like we weren't very possibly walking into a well orchestrated trap.

If she wasn't so set on dying, she would make one fuck of a good criminal.

–

There were two SUVs parked out front the warehouse, empty, the hoods already cool to the touch. Further cementing my idea that we were heading into a trap. Alex didn't look at me as she unbuckled and went to her door.

I grabbed my gun, shoved it into the waistband of my pants and met Alex by her side of the car.

“Thanks for trying to help me,” she said, looking at the building in front of her while she spoke to me.

“Ain't done trying, doll,” I said, but she shrugged, biting on the inside of her cheek. “You ready?” I asked, already all too aware of how well prepared she was to get this done.

“Yup. Let's get this over with.”

She fell into step beside me as I let us in the front door, into the hall, then slowly down the stairs. Beside me, she was calm as could be. No sweating. No struggled breathing. Just oddly empty eyes and straight shoulders.

Meanwhile my heart was a fuckin' jackhammer.

We reached the bottom landing and I could hear voices around the corner. Alex paused and my hand went out, landing on her hip for a brief second. Her eyes went up to mine and she made her lip twitch upward before turning away again. My hand dropped and we moved forward as a unit, stepping around the curve of the wall and into view of the train car.

Four heads turned at the shuffling of our feet. Lex, two of his goons, and Shoot.

Lex was closing in on middle age with dark hair, dark eyes, and a thin build. His goons were big piles of muscle, one ugly with a shaved head and black eyes, one average looking with long blonde hair and blue eyes. Shoot had a busted lip (likely from his taunting of Limp Dick Rick when we were on the phone earlier) and a fading black eye. He was hunched just the slightest bit to his left, suggesting he likely had bruised or busted ribs. But he was alright. And the fuck even gave me a smile and a half-wave when he saw me.

I shook my head and I saw Alex's brow raise slightly, taking him in.

Whether it was because of his manner or because he was a good looking guy, I had no idea.

The train door was open and I stepped through first, Alex on my heels.

“Breaker, so nice to see you again,” Lex said, his slick voice leaving a slimy film on the air.

“Lex,” I said, nodding at him. “Shoot,” I said, nodding at him too

“You must be Alex,” Shoot said, letting one of his panty-melting smiles spread across his face. “Been keeping my brother company?”

“More like driving him up a wall I'm afraid,” she said easily. To anyone else, she seemed as at ease as Shoot himself. But I had noticed that her eyes hadn't so much as moved across the car. She found Shoot and she kept her eyes there. Like she was too afraid to look at the people who held her fate in their hands.

“Well, we're here,” I said, looking at Lex. Wanting to get down to it. The suspense wasn't helping anything.