Breaking Meredith

by Izzy Sweet

  Shit.

  Rifling through his pockets, I don’t find anything of importance. Just a pack of Japanese cigarettes and a cheap lighter. Pulling up the right sleeve and then his left, I find tattoos. Damn.

  Flipping his body over, I start to unzip his jacket when Meredith rolls down her window. “Simon what the hell? I don’t want to die so you can get some cheap thrills!”

  “Very funny, Meredith,” I say with a laugh and smirk.

  Ripping the shirt up, I expose his chest. He has the tattoos I was expecting there. No telling who he’s working for on tattoos alone, but it’s a damn good way to guess we’ve got another headache coming.

  Pulling my phone out of my pocket, I take three quick photos of his face and a couple of his chest tattoos.

  Running back to my car, I jump into the open door. Hitting the gas pedal, the car door slams itself shut as we screech away from the body.

  Pulling a burner phone from the center console, I dial 911. “There was a shootout at Saint Michael’s church. Some guy on a motorcycle wearing black clothes shot at another guy in a tan Tahoe.”

  That should get them looking for someone besides my black Escalade.

  Disconnecting the phone, I hand it to Meredith. “Toss that out the window.”

  While she does that, I pull my regular phone from my pocket and press the Bluetooth function on my steering wheel. “Call Sommers.”

  The phone rings quietly through my speakers. “Detective Sommers.”

  “The shooting at the church, I want any and all information you pull off the corpse. Also, if you get lucky enough to catch the motorcyclist, give me access to him.”

  “Jesus, Simon. Could you go a day this week without having a major incident?”

  “No,” I say before pushing the disconnect button.

  “Did you just call the police and tell them to give you information?” Meredith asks.

  “Yes,” I say as I slow my vehicle down.

  Pressing the Bluetooth button on my steering wheel again, I say, “Call Matthew.”

  “Simon,” comes Matthew’s slow drawl.

  “I was just ambushed at Saint Michael’s by a Yakuza shooter,” I say without preamble.

  “Are you sure?”

  “Yes. I have pictures of his head and chest tattoos. He’s covered, and from a quick look they seem to be authentic.”

  “How did they find you?” he asks after a moment.

  “I’m not sure yet. No tails this morning and I didn’t spot anything before we went into the church.”

  “We?” he asks slowly.

  “Yes, I brought Meredith along. I wanted to keep her protection under my care. Right now I’m starting to suspect I may have a tracker on me that I haven’t noticed. But I’ll have do a search for it, and then I’ll need to switch out vehicles until this one is repaired.”

  “I see. I’ll talk to Andrew. He should be able to scramble a private security service until we can get this matter settled,” he says after a moment.

  “Okay. I’ll use Johnathan as a lookout while I do the search of my SUV and switch it out.”

  “As soon as you can, get on top of finding out which Yakuza boss we’ve seemed to upset,” he says.

  “Don’t worry, that’s going to be my primary focus very soon,” I say and then push the disconnect button.

  By the time we finally make it back to my home, Meredith looks as exhausted as she must be feeling. Her eyes struggled to remain open for the last couple of miles. The black Tahoe in front of me and the two following me have stayed as tight as they can which gives me some comfort.

  Thankfully my computer systems have showed nothing in the way of my security systems being compromised.

  Pulling through the gate, I wait as the car ahead of us rolls to a stop. Four large men in black coats and military fatigue pants ease out of the vehicle. The car directly behind me pulls in past my surrounding wall, and the last car stops just outside of it.

  The men in the front car pull their semi-automatic rifles out with them as they start to spread out around the front of the house. The men in the car behind us quickly get out as they spread around the yard.

  “Is this protection really going to help?” Meredith asks quietly.

  Nodding my head at her, I say, “Yes. I’ve used Twin Star Security in the past and I trust their men to do a thorough job.”

  “Simon, I’m… scared.”

  “Don’t be. I told you already, you’re mine and I take care of what’s mine.”

  Getting out of the car after the lead security man motions for me, I say to him, “Ensure we’re not disturbed.”

  Nodding his head, he asks, “Would you like us to go through the house, sir?”

  “No, it won’t be needed,” I say as I come around the door to escort Meredith out of the Tahoe I’ve taken over.

  “Very well. We’ll have another car here soon. It will be roaming in a sporadic perimeter.”

  “Good.”

  It’s only early afternoon, but I can already tell the day has worn my poor Meredith thin. Escorting her into the bedroom, I sit her down on the bed’s edge. Kneeling in front of her, I look up into her tired eyes.

  “The excitement will die down soon enough,” I say as I drop my eyes down to her heeled shoes.

  Taking them off slowly, I lift her feet up on the bed and pull the comforter over her body.

  “Promise?” she asks after a weary yawn.

  “Yes,” I say, and then head into my office off the main bedroom.

  Heading to the closet inside the room, I pull a new keyboard out of the box. I normally replace them after a couple of months. It’s just too hard to get all the lint and refuse out from under the key buttons for them to be worth keeping.

  Plugging into the system, I begin my work.

  I need to figure out who the hell is trying to kill us off. It’s the Yakuza, I’m willing to wager. But why now and what for, is the question.

  The fucking tracer on my Escalade has been there for a small time. Maybe since the night at the club. Though with how sophisticated it is, I’m willing to bet I can trace it back to a manufacturer, or at the very least who built it.

  12

  Meredith

  I wake up clutching a pillow to my chest and then immediately shove it away in disgust. Disgust for myself or for Simon, though? I’m not sure and it bothers the hell out of me. Ever since last night, I feel completely unbalanced.

  Simon not only did a number on my body, he did a number on my head.

  All those things he said… fuck. I honestly don’t know how to process it.

  Sitting up, I glance around the dim bedroom. It’s empty, but I can hear fingers tapping rapidly against a keyboard coming from somewhere close. It must be his computer room. He left the door wide open.

  Why is my first instinct to go to him?

  Pushing that instinct away, I throw the blankets aside and slide out of bed. My thighs ache as my feet hit the floor and my mouth goes dry as I remember why.

  Water. I need water. And perhaps a lobotomy, so I can forget that last night ever happened.

  I glance towards the nightstand, checking the clock, and spot a glass covered in condensation.

  Fuck. Did he know I’d be thirsty when I woke up?

  Of course he did. He’s been watching me for five years. Apparently he knows everything about me. Too bad I know jack all about him.

  I grab the glass and drink deeply from it. Then I set it back down on the nightstand, purposely avoiding the coaster. It’s a small, petty, rebellion, but still a rebellion nonetheless.

  Every little bit counts, especially since that pit of raging fire I’ve carried around in my stomach seems to have extinguished. I want to be angry at him. I want to fucking rage at him and fight him.

  But I just can’t…

  It’s like when he fucked me he broke something inside me. He broke my ability to hate him.

  Shaking my head at myself, I head into the bathroom to take care o
f my business. When I step up to the mirror to wash my hands and fix my hair, my eyes are drawn to the counter and all my toiletries.

  It was unnerving as hell to walk in here this morning to find everything I need, everything I like to use waiting for me. Mixed in with his things.

  And the devil’s in the details, isn’t it? Not only is all my stuff here, but he has everything placed exactly where I need it. My soaps are in the shower, my cosmetics and brushes are on the counter, and in the cabinets beneath the sink I found my tampons.

  It’s creepy as fuck, but also, strangely, a little flattering. He set this all up while I was asleep, and then brought me breakfast in bed, again. If I didn’t know any better, I’d think he actually cares about me…

  I shudder and turn off the tap. That’s a terrifying thought. I know he’s obviously obsessed with me, but to think he has real feelings… No, a man like him could never truly care about me in that way. I know his type. I’ve spent my entire life surrounded by them. Men like him, they only care about themselves. Their own personal wishes and desires will always come first. Sure, they might marry and have children. Take Matthew for instance. But ultimately their families are simply an extension of their possessions.

  Things they acquire and hoard, until they grow bored of them.

  And eventually they all grow bored of them.

  With that sobering thought, I head back into the bedroom. I can still hear Simon tapping away. Sounds like he’s very busy. It would be a great time to try and make an escape… if there wasn’t a patrol of armed guards roaming the property.

  And of course, this stupid bracelet on my wrist.

  I still can’t believe I put it on without really thinking about it. He just asked so nicely… fuck. Obviously, sex makes me stupid.

  Approaching the computer room quietly, I pause at the doorway and peek my head in.

  Simon is sitting in front of his desk, typing furiously while staring at the screen directly in front of him. The screen is black, but there’s dozens of lines of what appears to be code in white text flowing across it.

  The code scrolls by just as fast as Simon is typing.

  I try to make some of it out, but the type of the text is too small to read clearly from here. I could move in closer, but even if I could read the text, I doubt I’d understand it.

  Simon seems to be completely oblivious to my presence so I take this opportunity to observe him in his natural environment. Hunched over a little in his chair, the muscles of his arms and shoulders strain against the white fabric of his shirt as his long fingers dance across the keyboard.

  His fingers move so quick, so sure, it brings up memories of when they were inside me. Driving me towards that release that was both wanted and unwanted. Before I can completely shut the memory down, my blood starts to pump a little faster and everything below my waist stirs, awakening.

  “You may come in, Meredith,” Simon says over his shoulder, his fingers still tapping rapidly on the keyboard.

  Caught spying, I hesitate. I wasn’t planning on joining him. In fact, I think I’d prefer some distance between us so I can get this shit in my head figured out. Right now, I’m so out of sorts, I’m afraid I’m going to make another stupid mistake.

  Simon’s fingers slow and he finishes his work with a couple of clicks on the mouse. Then he turns his chair to face me.

  His eyes peer at me expectantly behind the lenses of his glasses.

  Never one to back down from a challenge, I lift my chin into the air and slowly approach him. I school my features into an expression of boredom even though my body feels like it’s being drawn towards his body like a magnet.

  “Did you sleep well?” he asks as I stop a whole foot away from him.

  The air between us seems to crackle with tension. His fingers curl around the arms of his chair and his jaw tightens. He glares at the space between us as if it has somehow offended him.

  What did he expect me to do? Throw myself at him? Kneel at his feet?

  Not happening.

  “Yes,” I answer coolly and then raise my right hand. “But this bracelet is growing uncomfortable. Will you remove it, please?”

  Simon’s eyes flick towards the bracelet, and either he’s getting worse at hiding his emotions or I’m getting better at reading him because I can tell right away he doesn’t want to remove it.

  I let out a soft sigh and admit, “I’m not stupid enough to run now.”

  Both his eyebrows quirk up and I scowl. Of course he doesn’t believe me.

  “Seriously. There’s way too many guys patrolling outside, and besides, this house is impossible to get out of.”

  Simon stares at me for a long moment and I can’t stop my eyes from drinking in his perfect bone-structure. How did I not notice he’s such a fucking handsome man before? Take off his glasses and ruffle his hair a bit and the man could pass for a fucking supermodel.

  Finally, he lets out his own sigh, like I’m putting him out or something, and says, “Very well.”

  Reaching out, he grabs me by the hand and pulls me closer. I clench my teeth together as his fingers wrap around my wrist. His touch, just the press of his skin against my skin, still affects me in unwanted ways.

  Ways that make me want to throw myself at him instead of ripping him into pieces.

  He begins to turn back towards his desk and I have no choice but to follow him. In a way, I kind of feel like a dog being led by a leash.

  I could fight him on this, but what would be the point? The rage is gone, lost in the things he did to me last night. Pissing him off now would only trigger another unwanted physical confrontation. The best thing I can do is pretend compliance and hope I can slip away without another incident.

  Grabbing his phone from beside the sparkling new keyboard, I watch closely as he unlocks the screen. It would be useful to have his password when I do get another chance to escape. But after pressing his thumbprint against a glowing circle, his thumb moves across the screen so fast I have no clue what he typed.

  For all I know, it could have been ‘Meredith is bitch’ or ‘Lucifer is the bestest’.

  He pulls up an app that looks like one of those radar maps that shows thunderstorms in the area and slides a button from ‘armed’ to ‘disarmed’.

  Jesus. He locked a fucking weapon around me. No wonder the thing was so damn heavy.

  With a click, he unsnaps the bracelet, and I find myself holding my breath as he works it gently off my wrist.

  Once the weight of the metal is completely gone and the bracelet is tucked inside the top drawer of the desk, I finally relax.

  I give a little tug on my hand, expecting him to release me, but he tugs back, pulling me closer. My thighs bump into the side of his chair and I nearly fall over it.

  “Are you hungry?” he asks, his thumb stroking against the sensitive inner skin of my wrist as I straighten and get my balance back.

  I shake my head, fighting to keep my toes from curling into the floor. The way he’s stroking me makes me want to arch my back and purr like a cat.

  It’s absolutely fucking ridiculous. Without my hate, I’m entirely too aware of my body’s responses to him.

  “Are you sure? It’s past the time you usually eat lunch.”

  My stomach flutters, but it’s not because of hunger. I don’t want to eat. I just want to get away from him before I do something stupid. Like act on a physical impulse.

  “No. I’m not hungry, Simon.” I frown and try to ease my hand out of his grip.

  His fingers clamp down on me, not letting go. “Fine, then you can keep me company while I finish my work.”

  He gives a hard tug on my arm and forces me to stumble into his lap before I know what the fuck is happening.

  I immediately try to pull away, but his arm wraps around my midsection and locks around me just as tightly as that bracelet.

  “I rather not,” I protest and squirm.

  “This will only take a few minutes,” he says, ignoring my strugg
les as he rotates his chair back towards the desk and grabs his mouse. He starts to click around.

  I don’t know what’s more infuriating, that he can keep me trapped so easily with one arm or that he’s focusing on his work.

  Pushing my feet into the floor, I try one last time to stand up and free myself from his grip.

  His next words stop me cold. “If you continue to squirm like that, I can’t be held responsible for what happens.”

  I immediately freeze in place.

  “That’s better,” he coos and his arm tightens around me once more, pulling me down until my ass is completely on his lap.

  Once he has me settled exactly as he wants me, he resumes his clicking. His arm sliding against my arm as he moves the mouse around on the desk.

  So much for slipping away without another incident. Fuck.

  This is exactly what I was afraid of. Exactly what I was trying to avoid. Him forcing proximity again. His space invading my space.

  His simple fucking presence messing with my head.

  And I don’t have anything to protect me now. He’s stripped me bare. He ripped away every preconceived notion I had about him. Every opinion I had and used to justify my actions is gone. Burned to ash by the flames of his want.

  After last night’s revelations, all I have is a taste of the truth and a bunch of confusing emotions. My resistance is hanging on only by a thread. A thread that’s so stretched, so taut, that it could snap at any moment.

  Shaking my head, I give up. What’s the fucking point? He’s the one in control here and apparently he can do whatever the fuck he wants.

  I begin to relax against him and his hold around my midsection loosens. I turn my attention to the screens and try my best to ignore the way my body seems to fit perfectly against his body.

  All our bits and pieces fit together as if they were always meant to be connected.

  His heat is at my back, warming my spine, and his strong thighs are pressing into my ass. Even seated as we are, he’s more than a head taller than me. His breath puffs against my crown, tickling my hair and threatening to drive me to distraction.

  The screen directly in front of us changes, flashing to a desktop then to a surveillance feed. Simon clicks the mouse a couple of times and the picture zooms in on the men roaming the perimeter of his house.