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 rein 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 face-planting 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 Lord-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.
Where? When?
It was only a couple minutes before another comment was made. Like whoever Jstorm was, was sitting and waiting for me to get back to them.
Now? Secure webcam?
Of course.
SN: Jstorm.
I didn't respond to that, just brought up my camera and chat software, quickly brushing my hands through my crazy morning hair, before entering the screen name and hitting the call button.
My heart was hammering in my chest, my breathing feeling shallow and labored.
I had given up.
Days ago, I had decided it was no use. I checked anyway because I was always praying someone more powerful than me would step up.
That there was someone who wanted to help.
Someone who could end this for me.
And for Breaker.
And Shoot.
Shoot who Breaker hadn't heard from since the last meeting. Shoot who Breaker was getting more and more worried about by the day. He didn't say anything about it, but it was there. In the heavy way his shoulders sat. In the tightness in his jaw. In the faraway look in his eyes.
He was worried.
And that was my fault.
I needed to fix it.
The call got answered and it took a moment for Jstorm's camera to connect. When it did, it might as well not have been hooked up. Because the image gave me nothing. Someone in a hood that hung over their face. The hoodie was big and black, dwarfing whatever body was underneath it. The room Jstorm was in was dark. I couldn't even tell you from looking if Jstorm was a man or woman.
"Alex?" the inhuman voice asked.
Inhuman because whoever Jstorm was, they were using voice modification software.
They meant business.
That was good for me.
"Yes," I said, nodding slightly, feeling almost nervous.
"I'm sorry to hear about Glenn," Jstorm said.
"Thank you," I said, meaning it. No one else had offered me sympathy. And I didn't deserve it, but Glenn's memory did.
"Lex has been allowed off his leash for way too long."
That was true. "Yeah," I agreed.
"Are you still with Bryan Breaker?"
That was not information I shared. Jstorm had been doing his or her own research. Again, that was good.
"At his house. But he ran out for a few minutes."
The hooded head nodded. "You need to untangle yourself from him."
The words felt like a kick to the gut.
Even though they were ones I had been forcing myself to try believe for days.
"I know."
"Shooter is still alive. But if you don't show proof of the hacker when Lex returns, he won't be alive for long." There was a pause. "You could create false leads, make false information to hold yourself over. But that will only las
t for so long and Lex would use his usual methods of... persuasion against you."
Persuasion.
Rape and torture.
Yeah.
Jstorm was right.
"But not before he uses your weaknesses against you."
"My weaknesses," I repeated hollowly.
"Shooter and Breaker."
Right.
That was true.
Shit.
It was one thing to know it. It was another to have someone else tell you the same thing you were worried about.
"You need to leave."
"How will leaving help? Breaker will get in trouble for losing me."
"Not as much as he will be in for helping you."
That was also true.
"I have no money. No where to go."
"You leave and turn left at the end of the gravel road. You find a stop sign bent in half and laying on the grass, turn into the woods, under the first downed tree is a bag. Enough money to get you out of town for a few weeks. An ID. A burner."
Holy shit.
Jstorm really meant business.
"And then what?"
"Then I take it from there. I use what you have and what I have gathered and I take down Lex Keith. Finally."
"But..."
"You're out of this, Alex Miller. You've lost enough already. Take the bag. Leave town. Don't look back. Don't gather any more information. You can take your laptop and keep tabs, but don't stick your finger back into this mess. You're free. Go build a new life."
And with that, Jstorm ended the call.
If my heart was pounding before, it was threatening an attack then.
I had just been taken out of the equation.
I had just had my life's work taken from me.
And, at once, it filled me with overwhelming terror and soul-crushing relief.
All I needed to do was leave.
The problem was, there was no 'all' about it.
Savages Series Boxed Set Page 16