Monster (5 page)

I could wash the filth
of my twenty-six years away. I could be clean.

But that wasn't an
option for me.

Some people needed to
wade in the muck so that others could live untouched by it.

My life was a sacrifice
to a greater good.

I had no right to be
sad about that.

“Cold?”
Breaker's voice said behind me, making me jump, my heart flying
upward. God, he was good at that. I guessed that was what made him
good at his job.

“Yeah,” I
said, turning toward him.

To find him standing
there with clothes.
Clothes
. And blankets.

“Here,” he
said, holding out a pair of men's socks to me and I practically
lunged at them, slipping my feet in and pulling them up my calves.
Next he handed me a pair of sweatpants. Men's. Blue. Way too big. But
warm. I slipped into those as well, reaching for the dark blue
sweatshirt and pulling it over my head. “Better?” he
asked once I was swallowed up in the new material.

“Yes. Thank you,”
I said, meaning it.

“Don't thank me,
doll,” he said, shaking his head.

“Why not? You did
something nice.”

He exhaled his breath,
running a hand down the side of his head. “After kidnapping and
holding you against your will. You can't say this was nice.”

“How many other
hostages have you brought clothes and blankets to?” I asked,
watching him. His head shook and I had my answer. “Exactly. So
thank you for caring about me not dying of pneumonia. You know...
before I OD on heroin.” I meant it to me kinda funny. In a
morbid way. I even smiled as I said it.

All I was met with was
a tightening around his eyes, a ticking in his jaw. He looked
almost... angry.

“You really ain't
got shit to live for?” he asked, his voice low.

I felt my shoulder
shrug. “I really don't have shit to live for,” I
affirmed. “I mean... I'm not exactly happy about dying before I
even reach my thirtieth birthday. But I get to choose how to go.
Better at my own hands than being scraped off the pavement after a
drunk driver hits me while I was crossing the street. Or choking on
the horse pill sized vitamins I take alone in my apartment, not to be
found for days until my landlord comes looking for rent.”

“Jesus Christ
you're dark.”

At this, I felt my lips
quirk up. “You kidnap and hold people hostage and probably kill
them. And
I'm
dark?”

“Yeah, doll.
You're dark. I work in darkness. I don't live it. I don't wrap it
around myself like a blanket, hiding from the fuckin' world.”

“I don't hide
from the world!” I objected, though I knew it was true.

“I sat on your
apartment for three days and you didn't come out once. Not even to
get food. Not to talk to another person. Not to get laid. Nothing.”

“I was working,”
I objected.

“On what? Ratting
out porn-addicted men to their suspicious spouses?”

Okay. I was getting a
little bit angry.

Unfortunately for me,
there was no such thing as a
little bit angry
. One kind of
angry was just as bad as the next. And when I was pissed, there
seemed to be a disconnect between my lips and my sensor.

“Trying to bring
down a friggen criminal empire you asshole!”

Oops.

That was the wrong
thing to say.

His brow quirked, his
eyes got curious.

And I knew there was no
way he was going to let that one go.

“Come again?”
he asked, his voice deceptively mild.

“Nothing. Never
mind.”

“That ain't gonna
cut it.”

“Well, too bad.
Because I'm not telling you.”

“Doll...”

“No. And you
can't make me.”

That probably was
another wrong thing to say.

I knew that because of
the smile that seemed to touch his eyes, but not his lips.

“Wanna bet?”

“Are you going to
hit me?”

To this, he flinched.
And I knew he wouldn't. He wasn't one of those men.

“No. I'm not
going to hit you.”

“Then I don't see
how you can make me tell you anything.”

“No?” he
asked, the smile finally catching the side of his lips as he ever so
slowly started moving toward me.

Better sense told me to
stand my ground. But my body wasn't listening. I was just as slowly
moving backward, away from him. But then my back hit the wall. And he
was still coming.

My heart was hammering
hard, my chest feeling oddly constricted. And part of it was fear-
fear of the unknown. But part of it was something else. Something I
didn't quite recognize or understand.

There was only a foot
between us, his ice blue eyes focused on mine, his face giving
nothing of his intentions away.

Of their own volition,
my hands went up, palms out, pressing into his abs as he started to
close the small gap between us.

His eyes slid down to
my hands, then back up to my face.

“What are you
doing?” I asked, my voice a little shaky. Weak.

What the hell was going
on?

He pushed closer,
making my hands press harder into his abdominal muscles. And I
realized I was right back in my apartment when I thought he was
strong under his clothes. He was like a brick wall beneath my palms.

My eyes slid back up to
his, a strange fluid sensation swirling around in my belly when they
landed, finding him watching me.

One of his hands went
up, caging me in from the side. The other rose more slowly, hovering
in the air for a second, before skimming his fingertips lightly
across my jaw.

And my whole body
shuddered.

Hard.

Because the
butterfly-light touch felt like it skipped over every inch of my
skin.

His head dipped
slightly, his warm breath tickling my cheekbone. But his eyes never
left mine.

“Breaker...”
I tried, not sure what I was asking, what I was feeling, what he was
trying to do.

“Ain't gonna hurt
you, doll,” he said, his voice low and rumbling.

Then his eyes finally
left mine as his head tilted lower.

The fluid sensation in
my belly intensified and twisted in an almost sickening swirl... just
a second before his lips closed over my earlobe.

The air flew out of my
lungs and my hands dug into the muscles of his stomach instinctively.

I wasn't a scared
little virgin. As fate would have it, that flew out the door ten days
after my mother went in the ground.

That being said, I
wasn't exactly experienced either. Mostly because I stayed away from
people like they were possible carriers of bubonic plague. And also
because I was pretty sure I had some kind of medical condition that
made a normal twenty-something female libido just... disappear.

I didn't crave sex.

I barely even thought
about it save for the times I was grimacing at the porn sites clients
unwittingly made me visit.

But there was no
mistaking it.

It was in the weird,
fluttery heartbeat. In the hypersensitivity of my nerve endings. In
the way goosebumps were rising on my neck and chest and arms. In the
fierce, almost painful tightening deep in my core.

I was turned on.

By my god damn
kidnapper.

Holy crap.

What was wrong with me?

“What crime
lord?” Breaker's voice asked, making a shiver run through my
body, his teeth nipping into my earlobe.

“Lex,” my
voice breathed out. To me, it was barely even audible.

But Breaker responded
like I had shouted it through a megaphone.

His other hand slammed
down beside my head, completely caging me in, his head moving
backward, his eyes pinning me in place.

“You fuckin'
serious?”

Shit.

His tone pulled the
desire backward, leaving me feeling shaky and cold and unfulfilled.

And maybe a little,
just a tiny bit, disappointed.

What can I say? It had
been a long, long time since I knew what desire felt like. And I kind
of liked it. And I wanted to see where it led. That may have made me
a slut, but I was okay with that.

But the fact of the
matter was- he used me.

He used my body against
me.

And that was pretty
messed up.

Especially considering
I was his damn prisoner.

“I can't believe
you just did that,” I accused, my voice almost a little squeaky
with a mix of indignation and humiliation.

“Did what?”
he asked, looking confused.

“Used... used...
sex
to get an answer!”

At this, his head fell
backward and he let out a laugh that boomed off the train walls and
sent another shot of desire to my poor, underused nether regions.

His face dropped to
mine again, still smiling, but it had turned a little more
condescending. “I guess it's been a while for you,” he
started and I felt my spine straightening, “but that wasn't
sex, doll. That was me kissing your ear. Though if you want me to try
using sex as a interrogation method...” he trailed off, his
hands moving from the wall and sliding intimately down my sides.

And damn if it didn't
feel all kinds of good.

But that wasn't the
point.

The point was he was
having fun at my expense.

I was already a
freaking prisoner.

That was just... so not
okay.

Before I thought it
through, truly before I even realized it was happening, my hand swung
back, then flew forward, landing with a satisfying crack to the side
of his face.

Surprise registered in
his eyes for a second. Then the condescending smile took a turn
toward the mischievous and I knew I had, yet again, screwed up.

“Like it rough,
huh?” he asked, running a hand over his cheek which was a nice
shade of red.

“Go fuck
yourself,” I said, ducking under his arm, and darting past him.

I didn't get more than
two feet before he swung around and his arm went around my belly,
hauling me backward until I slammed my back into his front. “Not
so fast,” he said, sounding amused.

“Let go of me,”
I growled.
Growled
.

“Tell me about
taking down Lex's empire,” he said, his voice deceptively calm.
Almost like he was barely paying attention.

“No.”

“You're sure you
want that to be your answer?” he asked, his free hand slowly
starting to run up my thigh, slipping dangerously inward. Despite
myself, my head fell backward onto his chest.

This was all kinds of
wrong. Like a hundred shades of screwed the hell up. If I wasn't
going to end up in a city grave soon, I'd have made sure I went to
see a shrink about it.

Because I didn't want
him to stop. I genuinely wanted that hand to keep moving upward, keep
slipping inward, until it found what it was looking for. Until I got
some relief from the clawing need inside.

But that was exactly
the reason it needed to stop.

“Stop,” I
said, my voice a strange mix of shaky and strong.

Breaker exhaled a
breath that made my hair dance around my face. But his hand slid
away. “Killjoy,” he accused, pushing me away and stepping
out from behind me. He went to the door, letting me think I was
getting off scot free. But then he turned back. “Got nothing
but time to wear you down,” he said and it sounded like a
promise. “You're gonna tell me what the fuck you got yourself
into.”