Breaking The Sinner (The Breaking Series Book 4)

by Ember Leigh

  “Yeah, dude. I brought my car.”

  Lex nodded, then pointed to his beer. “Don’t drink and drive. I’m a dad, I have to say that, right?” He slapped Cobra’s back and wandered away.

  Cobra smiled to himself, assessing the glittering backdrop of the bar. Half-full—or half-empty?—bottles lined the shelves. To his left, Amara leaned over.

  “Party’s petering out,” she said, then laughed. “That’s a tongue twister.”

  Cobra hefted with a silent laugh.

  “You don’t talk much.” Amara elbowed him. The liquor had loosened her. No way she’d say this to him in broad daylight at the gym. “What’s your story?”

  He stiffened, taking another pull at his beer. “Nothing special.”

  She eyed him, then a commotion at her side yanked both of their attentions to Red. She’d fallen off her chair. Cobra shot up to help her, but Amara beat him to it. So did another guy, someone who wasn’t from the gym.

  “Hey, we’ve got her.” Cobra approached the guy, shoving his hand off her shoulder.

  The man backed off, raising his palms in submission. Cobra watched until he wandered away.

  Once she got Gen back into her seat, Amara’s arched brow waited for him. “Protective, much?”

  “She’s drunk.” He slid back onto his stool. He’d been keeping an eye on her since she set foot in the bar with that ridiculous outfit on. He couldn’t tell if it was a joke or not. High waisted khaki shorts with a tie-dyed tank top tucked in. She looked like the uniformed employee of some theme park from the nineties.

  “Yeah. Good to know you’re looking out for her.” Amara sent him a mysterious smile. “She needs all the help she can get.”

  “What do you mean?”

  Amara drew a deep breath, biting her lip as she looked over at Gen, who was in the middle of ordering another shot—this time, tequila. Cobra had already personally witnessed her take shots of rum, vodka, and even wine.

  “She can’t be serious,” he muttered. The bartender reached for a bottle of tequila.

  Amara gracefully intercepted, cancelling the tequila order without Gen realizing. “I’m not gonna let her take it. She’s a little…new.”

  “New?”

  “Yeah. New to…” Amara whirled her hand in the air between them. “All of this.”

  Gen slammed her fist against the bar. “Hey, didn’t I order a tekweela?” She pushed at the hair that had fallen in her eyes.

  “She needs to go home,” Cobra said, taking the last pull of his beer. Amara’s words echoed in his head. New. What the fuck did that mean? Maybe she really was an alien.

  “Yeah. I’m calling her the cab now.”

  He nodded, flagging the bartender to settle his tab. Might as well see her out. Make sure she could walk. See if a spaceship really came to pick her up.

  Amara helped steady Gen and led her to the front door, waving Travis off when he tried to join. Gen limped a little at Amara’s side. Probably the alcohol. Except her foot dragged. Outside, Gen groaned, taking an exaggerated inhale of the night air.

  “God, it smells good,” she enthused.

  “It smells like the city,” Amara cracked.

  “Yeah, but you don’t get it.” Gen drunkenly waved her off. “You don’t get it.”

  Amara lifted a brow. “I must not.”

  “It smells dirty,” Gen blubbered. “And that’s the point. Like how perfume smells nice.”

  “Perfume does smell nice,” Amara agreed.

  “Even nicer if you’ve never smelled it your whole life,” Gen said.

  Cobra shoved his hands into his pockets, questions swirling inside him. Gen tumbled shoulder first into Amara. “He doesn’t like me,” Gen stage whispered, looking over at Cobra.

  He bit back his smile. This was gonna be good.

  “Oh, come on. Yes, he does. He’s just…quiet.” Amara sent him a smile over the top of Red’s head.

  “He doesn’t like me because I farted on him,” Red whispered loudly.

  Amara’s eyes widened, and he laughed into his fist.

  “It’s okay, I don’t like him either,” Red said, turning her back to him. “Actually, that’s a lie, I totally like him.”

  Cobra worked his jaw back and forth. He didn’t like how much it warmed him to hear those words. She didn’t know shit about him, and she was drunk. Wanting those words to be true revealed a crack in his armor. One he needed to seal up immediately.

  But maybe he could seal it up tomorrow.

  “I’ll take her home,” Cobra blurted.

  “No, it’s okay,” Amara said. “We’ll take her. I’m pretty sure Travis is good to drive.”

  “But I’m definitely good to drive,” Cobra said. “Besides, I saw Travis taking shots. You guys need a ride share, too.”

  Amara gnawed at the inside of her lip, a low sigh escaping her. “You might be right.”

  Cobra clenched his jaw, looking back at the door as it clanged shut. A few guys strutted outside and lit up cigarettes, eyeing Amara and Gen in a way that Cobra recognized too well. He straightened his back, meeting their stares so they got the picture.

  These girls were off limits.

  Cobra went over to Red, grabbed her by the shoulder so she’d look at him. She blinked sleepily. In the golden hues of the outside lights, he could see the freckles smattered across her cheeks. They must have been covered up by makeup earlier that day.

  “Hey, Red. Where do you live?”

  She got lost in his gaze, a small smile crossing her face. “Definitely not with my parents.”

  Amara snorted. Cobra wet his bottom lip, unsure if that was supposed to be flirting or not. “Red. I’m taking you home,” he said, squaring her by the shoulders. Gen snorted, waving him off.

  “He’s good to drive, honey,” Amara said, stroking Gen’s shoulder. “And you need to get home and go to bed.” Under her breath, she said to Cobra, “Thank God she didn’t get that last shot.”

  “I’ve got her,” Cobra said, slinging his arm behind her back. He jerked his chin toward the bar. “Go find Travis. Use the cab you called for Gen. I’ll get her to her house.”

  Amara nodded, watching them as she shuffled toward the door. “Make sure she takes an aspirin. Water by the bedside. And I’ll make sure Travis knows not to expect her too early tomorrow.”

  Cobra nodded, guiding Gen toward the darkened parking lot off to the side of the bar. She stumbled awkwardly as he tried to keep her arm slung around his shoulder. She was gangly at this level of drunkenness, pure limbs and scuffs.

  “Where are we going?” she asked after he’d stuffed her in the passenger side of his black 2004 Corolla. It was the definition of beater, and more than one shitty drug dealer had this car. But it worked well enough, most of the time.

  “Your place,” he said before he shut the door. He hurried around to the other side. The air in the car had the bite of liquor already from her breath. Her head lolled to the side, eyes fastened shut.

  “Hmmm,” she said.

  “Don’t sleep yet.” The car didn’t start on the first try. “What’s your address?”

  She mumbled the number and street. About twenty minutes from his place. The engine hummed to life on the second try, and he pulled out of the parking lot, easing into the nighttime flow of traffic.

  Red fell asleep almost as soon as they hit the highway. He fought to not look over at her. Her skin gleamed like porcelain under the garish street lights. Like she could crumble under the slightest pressure.

  She didn’t look like anyone who had ever sat in this car.

  He tapped his fingers against the steering wheel as he kept an eye out for her street. What the fuck was he doing? He should have left the bar when he had the chance. Let her sleep it off in the ride share.

  But something about her made it impossible not to look. She was innocent in a way he was desperate to protect—and beautiful in a way that he knew exactly how to wreck.

  He ran his sweaty palm over the to
p of his shorts as he pulled into a standard white brick apartment complex. Red stirred as the car shut off.

  “Red. We’re here.” He pushed out of the car, coming to her side to get her unbuckled. She pushed at him weakly, eyes pinched shut.

  “I’m not ready to go to bed,” she mumbled.

  Cobra laughed, helping her to standing. “I think you are. Which one is yours?”

  “All of it.”

  He huffed. She was a rag doll in his arms. He hoisted her over his shoulder, her ass jutting out next to his head. He slapped the back of her thigh. “Wake up. Which apartment is yours?”

  A giggle fluttered out of her, and she wriggled against him. The weight of her fit him, like a balance he hadn’t realized he needed.

  “Apartment 33A,” she slurred.

  He carried her easily toward that block of apartments, setting her down gently in front of her door. She wavered for a moment, eyes going glossy as she looked up at him.

  “Thanks for a great night,” she whispered.

  A laugh erupted from him. “I didn’t take you out, Gen. I brought you home.”

  “It was still great,” she insisted, rummaging in her handbag. She produced a key a moment later. “Aha!”

  The exclamation was practically a guffaw. It echoed down the hall. He shushed her.

  “I do what I want,” she said, struggling to open the door and failing. “Are we gonna have sex?”

  He rubbed at his face, the grin hurting his cheeks. This girl wasn’t just sexy, or awkward, or different. She fit into a category he’d never even realized existed. “No. I’m making sure you go to bed.”

  Though he would have loved to bend her over the nearest soft surface, blackout drunk was not the time to try. His roommates would have begged to differ.

  “Well, here we are.” She missed the lock on the fifth attempt. Cobra snatched the key from her, and the door unlocked on his first try.

  “Go inside.” He pushed the door open as she sauntered through, looking like a sketch comedy performer making fun of a sexy walk. He laughed. “Are you always like this?”

  “I should ask you the same thing.” She jutted her chin out, spinning on her heels. The quick turn made her fall over. She faceplanted into the couch.

  “Jesus, Gen.” He shut the front door quickly then helped her sit up.

  “Don’t take the Lord’s name in vain,” she whispered. The sweet tang of alcohol bathed his senses. But from this close, he could see the startling clarity of her green eyes. Like a gemstone, something so glittering and deep that he felt punctured by the sight.

  His stomach clenched. “Which room is yours?”

  “I’m not telling you,” she said, crossing her arms over her chest. The defiance made him smile. She turned her head away.

  “This shouldn’t be too hard to find out,” he said. The apartment was small, a kitchen hugging the overstuffed living room. A shadowy hallway to the left. “Should I go wake up your roommates and ask them?”

  “Stop it,” she hissed, pushing to standing. Her tie-dyed tank top had slid out of place, revealing a taupe lace bra beneath. His low belly tightened. This was not the time or the place, but suddenly he was hungry for her. Wanted to taste that smooth shoulder, push her up against the wall.

  Break her into pieces and get drunk on the shards.

  “You need to go to bed,” he said. She wobbled toward the hallway, and he caught her again before she pitched forward.

  “Actually, you need to go to bed,” she slurred. “Don’t tell me who needs to go to bed; I know who needs to go to bed. I need to go to bed.”

  Circular drunk logic. He bit his lip to keep in the laugh as he guided her down the hall. She listed toward one of the doors. Probably hers. She pushed at the door, and he flipped the light on, stomach tightening as he awaited the verdict: her room or her roommate’s.

  The equivalent of a dollhouse bedroom stared back at him. Neatly made twin bed, oak dresser, a flowery lamp that sat primly on an otherwise empty nightstand. One suitcase stood upright, unopened, near the door.

  “Lay down.” He stayed near the doorway. Maybe more for his own good than hers. She flopped face first onto the bed. She mumbled something into the comforter, and then her eyes closed.

  A moment later she fell asleep.

  The quiet of the apartment descended on him. Reminded him that he was in somebody else’s apartment on the side of town that wasn’t his. Tension prickled through him. As he headed for the door a paper fluttered from underfoot. He stilled so he could identify it. Not his.

  He blinked a few times, trying to read it from where he stood midstride. Feminine handwriting. Probably Red’s. The urge to see it up close overcame him. What had she written, alone in this strange, empty room? He snatched it up.

  Things I Seriously Need To Do Before I Go Home

  Pay rent and utility bills on time and with a smile!

  Have an excellent, toe-curling make-out session

  Go on a date with a man

  Cobra blinked, looking up at Red. Holy shit, was she a terminal cancer patient or something? Red continued snoring softly.

  Go to one of those art classes where you drink wine and everyone paints the same picture and most of them look horrible, but hey, at least you tried

  Scream “fuck” from a mountaintop

  Meet someone for a ridiculous coffee creation

  Fix my leg

  Get a guy’s number

  Have sex

  Have GOOD sex

  Have an excellent, toe-curling orgasm with a man

  Cobra’s mouth fell open, and he looked back at Red. This couldn’t mean…

  He blinked again. Somehow, it all made sense.

  She was a virgin.

  Spend the night at a man’s house, and the next morning he does NOT want me to leave!

  Get flowers from basically anyone, but it would be nice if it was also from this man

  Shock the family, bring a man home?

  Use the Maps application with the British voice

  Get drinks after work with my coworkers like the rest of the world does.

  Get an hombre, once you Internet search what it is again

  Have butt sex?????

  Have sex in front of someone else??????

  Start learning French

  Get new CUTE clothes that aren’t hand-me-downs from Amara’s Aunt Vicky

  Become a CUTE dog owner!!! Coordinating leashes with outfits. Seasonal photo shoot optional.

  Own two dogs

  Own three dogs

  Make a dog calendar with photos of my own dog(s)

  The list filled the entire sheet of notebook paper, as well as the back side. Cobra’s hand immediately went to his pocket. This shit was too weird. He wanted to take a picture…so he could study it.

  Maybe help her out with some of the items on the list.

  Something that sounded like a rustle tipped him off, so he snapped a picture of each side before he could think better of it and tossed the paper back where he found it. He let himself out of Red’s room, mind swirling with questions and curiosity, every cell of his body alive like he’d touched water near a current. Before he reached the front door, Amara’s words came back to him.

  Aspirin before bed was out, but he could at least grab the water.

  Cobra didn’t bother searching for a light switch in the kitchen, just groped through cabinets in the dim half-light of the hallway until he found a glass. He tapped his foot as he filled it with water, resisting the urge to look around. Absorb these surroundings. See what regular places were like. She probably lived with a roommate or maybe a sibling. The place reeked of comfort, stability. Made his skin crawl.

  Bunch of regular ass people in here.

  But Red…

  Maybe she wasn’t as regular as he thought.

  “What are you doing in here?”

  The fierce hiss made him freeze. That wasn’t Gen’s voice. He set the glass down, raising his hands as if the submission migh
t help things. A girl with a black bob peered at him from around the corner of the hallway. Her glare could have turned him to stone.

  “I brought Red—Gen home.”

  “Oh, yeah?” He could practically see the invisible knife she raised. “Well, if you already helped her out, then get out of here.”

  “I wanted to take her a glass of water,” Cobra said. If this had been any apartment on the block where he lived, he’d be shot by now.

  “I’ll do it. You just leave.”

  Cobra didn’t need to hear it a third time. He took off for the door, feet pounding as he raced down the hallway and out the apartment building.

  As he white-knuckled the steering wheel, driving back to his shitty apartment in his underwhelming neighborhood, he could see what tonight’s entry on his list would look like. Help a girl who is light years out of your league.

  Cobra gnawed on his bottom lip as he drove, unsure if the prickles in his gut were regret…or excitement.

  Chapter 4

  Missed a half-morning of work. A new entry for the list.

  Gen frowned, pinching the bridge of her nose. Alcohol radiated from her like green squigglies coming out of a cartoon stink bog. Coming to work four hours late wasn’t very graceful, but then again, when she’d called in, Travis didn’t sound surprised, either.

  The headache that had plagued her all morning had reduced to a mere throb finally. Four aspirin helped, as well as a glass of water. But the Holt gym was too bright. She squinted as she pushed into the main hallway. Thank God she wasn’t a front desk girl. How could people interact with the public with a hangover like this? The thought of an extended conversation made her sweat.

  “Hi, Melanie,” Gen mumbled as she tried to scurry past. She hoisted her purse higher on her shoulder.

  “Hey! You’re a little late today.” Melanie gave her a stage wink.

  “Yeah, I know. I know.” She’d been piecing together her memories of the night like putting together a collage made of magazine cutouts. Things got blurry after the fourth shot of rum. Her roommate Sophie delivered stern words that morning about finding a strange man in their apartment in the middle of the night.