Breaking The Sinner (The Breaking Series Book 4)

by Ember Leigh

  He dove for it. He’d been accumulating these savings like the drip of a cavern stalactite, painfully slow but with promise. And Cobra had worked hard to make sure these assfucks didn’t know about it. He tore it open. Bills still lined the inside. He thumbed through the rumpled twenties. Counted it once. Then again. Then a third time.

  His hands shook as he shoved the bag under his bed again. He’d been able to stash almost five hundred dollars. Free and clear money. The most he’d ever been able to set aside since…forever.

  And now, he counted only one hundred. Rage trickled through him, hot and restless.

  “Did you fuckwads steal my money?” He filled his doorframe, not wanting to take even a step farther. If he did, he’d pummel Klay’s face in.

  Confusion made slow, stupid steps across Klay’s face. “I’m sorry?”

  “You or Tyler were in my room. Did you take my money?”

  Klay’s gaze hardened to obsidian. “Don’t know what you’re talking about.” Condescension dripped from his words. “Sorry, buddy.”

  Cobra stalked across the living room and tore the PlayStation controller out of Klay’s hands. He threw it across the room so hard it shattered into pieces.

  “I said—” Cobra grabbed him by the collar of his Lakers T-shirt. “Did you take my fucking money?”

  “Get the fuck off me, asshole,” Klay snarled and shoved Cobra. Hard. But he couldn’t make Cobra budge. Not with all the training he had under his belt now.

  “Give me back my money.”

  “I don’t fucking have it! And now you owe me, you fucking idiot,” Klay said, fear ringing in his voice. “Tyler! Come tell him we don’t have his fucking money!”

  Tyler’s bedroom door swung open a moment later, and he came out. “Come on. Break it up. What the fuck is this?”

  “You both fucking robbed me,” Cobra said. Tyler pulled at his shoulder, and something inside him snapped. Cobra swung, his fist connecting with Tyler’s jaw. His roommate wailed, stumbling backward.

  “Fuck! What the hell is wrong with you?” Klay shoved at Cobra, capitalizing on the sting of regret as Cobra’s attention shifted to Tyler, nursing his hurt jaw. Klay got a punch into Cobra’s gut, and then again on his ribs. By the time Cobra reacted, Klay had him pinned to the ground.

  “You’ve been acting like a fucking nut job ever since you started at that gym.” Something crazed shone in his eyes. Cobra saw all of the twisted years of their past reflecting back on him. Tyler stumbled forward, pinning Cobra’s wrists to the ground. Cobra struggled, but Klay sat firmly on top of him. “We need to knock some sense back into you. Where’s our brother?”

  Cobra knew what came next. He struggled against Klay, but as much as he fought the weight on top of him, Tyler kept him pinned by the hands. On either side of him, the couch and coffee table kept him closed in at the sides. His stomach knotted.

  “This is us helping you,” Klay said, his voice strained. “We miss the Coby who used to do shit with us. Who fucking ran our pickups for us. Now, you’re never here. And what the fuck good is a roommate who’s never here?”

  “You’re both fucked up,” Cobra spat.

  “No. We just miss you! We miss the old you.” Klay laughed strangely, and then his face darkened. He looked at Tyler then nodded. “And you deserve this. After the way you’ve been treating us. It’s like you don’t even appreciate what we’ve done for you all these years. You’re an ungrateful fuck. Like your mom.”

  “Klay,” Cobra said, tugging at his wrists while Klay reached around for something. Panic cinched his chest. Their friendship had always been toxic—but what would brewing resentment breed? “Stop it. Whatever the fuck this is, you need to stop.”

  “Don’t worry,” Klay insisted. “We’ll make sure to balance things out.” He pulled out a baseball bat, the metallic shwick like a knife blade as it slid against the coffee table. “Hold him, Ty.”

  Tyler’s grip tightened, and Cobra pinched his eyes shut as Klay raised the bat. It connected with his shoulder first, a wrenching blow that sent hot pain screaming through his arms. Cobra couldn’t even cry out before the next blow fell. His side. Another one; his chest. The air emptied out of him, and he threw his head back, unable to scream, unable to even fight back.

  This motherfucker might kill me. The thought ran like a marquee as the blows continued. And then Klay pulled back, bat poised to strike again.

  “This is what brothers do,” he said, something sardonic on his face. “You deserved it. And now things will be better.”

  Klay brought the bat down hard on his head, the sickening crack the last thing Cobra heard before his world went black and fuzzy.

  Cobra didn’t have to be to work until Monday, which meant the next two days were spent convalescing on the couch. Klay and Tyler brought him bags of ice and smoked him up like the creepiest type of nurses. Every word they spoke sounded lighter, somehow gleeful.

  Maybe Klay had been right.

  Maybe this would restore the balance between them. Maybe Cobra deserved it.

  He’d swerved too far out of his lane, and now things could proceed as normal.

  In the history of their friendship, shit like this was sort of normal. Cobra thought a lot about it as he nursed his bruised ribs and swollen face. Maybe not baseball-bat-to-the-head dramatic, but this situation, in some enactment, dotted their history like broken bulbs on an old strand of Christmas lights. It wasn’t pretty, but it was part of the landscape. They were three fucked up guys. This was how fucked up guys got their shit in order.

  Cobra knew by now that regular people wouldn’t understand. No use trying to explain.

  Which is why he’d been prepping what he would actually say when he showed up to work on Monday. Convincing Travis and the rest of the staff would be easy. Street fight…bar fight…some variation there would suffice. Travis wouldn’t love it, but fuck him if he said anything.

  Really, he worried about Gen. She’d see right through any excuse he threw her way. The two of them were like starry-eyed lovers since last weekend at her place. And not being with her while he recuperated almost hurt worse than his bruised and battered body.

  On Monday morning, he could keep his shit together enough to hobble into work. It hurt less to walk, but his face looked like shit. A nasty black eye had blossomed, all purple and dark. Lex pulled him aside the second he stepped into the weight room.

  “What is this?” He gestured to Cobra’s face, his black eyebrows wrought into a hard line.

  “I got into a fight,” Cobra said.

  “Yeah. And lost.” Lex jerked his head toward the weight room door he’d just come through. “Let’s go to the locker room. I can help this situation.”

  Cobra followed him, nostrils flared as he regulated his breath against the swell of pain in his ribs. If Klay had busted one, then there wasn’t much he could do other than grin and bear it. It would take time, and a few excuses. Nothing he couldn’t handle.

  Lex remained quiet as he led the way to the men’s locker room. He tugged open his locker, revealing a little glass bottle.

  “You gotta cover this shit up, boy.” Lex swiped some flesh-colored cream onto his thumb, then dabbed it onto Cobra’s face. Cobra reeled back, laughing a little.

  “You my makeup artist now?”

  Lex smirked. “I’d sock you right now, but I’d probably hurt you.” He fell quiet for a few moments as he smeared the concealer into Cobra’s skin. Cobra winced. “I keep this on hand for the series I film with Travis. Who got ya?”

  Cobra jerked his head. “Nobody worth mentioning.”

  Lex frowned. “Travis doesn’t like this shit in here. He’ll let it slide once, but you push it too far, and he’ll cut you loose.”

  A strange cocktail of emotions surfaced. His kneejerk reaction was impassivity. That structured defeatism that lurked in the corners everywhere, always. Getting fired could be better for him. Shit at home would calm down. He could continue forward, even-keeled and listless. Cha
nging nothing would be easier.

  But then anxiety crept in. He didn’t want to be cut loose. Not really.

  “It was kind of a one off,” Cobra muttered.

  “Hope so.” Lex screwed the lid back on the bottle of concealer and set it on the locker shelf. “Now be real with me. You liking it here?”

  Cobra rubbed the back of his neck, ignoring the flinch of pain as he extended his arm. “Yeah. Why?”

  Lex shut the locker door softly. “You missed a bunch of work a couple weeks ago. Now this. I don’t want to see you get pulled out of here.”

  Cobra snorted, like the idea was absurd, but on the inside he reeled. How did Lex know? And how much did he know? “Pulled out by what?”

  “The street. Drugs. I dunno. Whatever it is that you fuck around with.” Lex took a measured breath, his chocolate eyes searing through him. “I don’t know your whole story, but I feel like I do. You know what I mean?”

  Cobra shrugged. Nobody knew his whole story. Except Klay and Tyler. “Mine would probably surprise you.”

  Lex laughed softly, but there wasn’t humor on his face. “Listen. Stick it out. Get your certification. Once you get the trainer status, shit gets easier. I promise. You get your own clients, and it’s like a whole new world.”

  Cobra nodded, averting his gaze. That trainer certification really did sound nice. But the shit he’d get from Klay for going back for his GED…the stress of studying and showing up…it already exhausted him.

  “We’ll see.” He couldn’t commit to more.

  Lex gripped his shoulders in response. Cobra winced. “‘We’ll see?’ That better turn into a ‘fuck yeah,’ or I’ll be the next one to beat your ass.”

  Cobra laughed weakly. “Oh yeah? You think you could get a punch in?”

  Lex smirked. “You’re lucky you’re bruised or else I’d show you now.”

  “Guess I lucked out today, then.” Cobra’s cheek twitched with the effort of keeping up the façade. The darkness invaded him quickly. And this time, he couldn’t keep the thought from spilling out. “I don’t get why you care so much. About me.”

  Lex’s smile fell. “Are you serious? You’re like a little brother to me. You saved my life. And I’m gonna do everything I can to make sure you make it as far as possible.”

  Cobra nodded, turning away. The unexpected jolt of tenderness made his chest hurt. If this was brotherhood, then it looked a helluva lot different than what he’d been sharing with Klay and Tyler all these years. Lex wasn’t gonna beat him with a baseball bat for acting out. He’d corner him in the locker room instead.

  The difference made his head spin. And between Lex and Gen…there were too many damn feels in his life. He wasn’t used to the loving caring.

  Lex shoved him playfully, and Cobra sucked on his teeth, shooing him away. “Get the fuck off me now. Your sappiness is gonna stain my shirt.”

  Lex cackled, and Cobra couldn’t fight the grin. A brother. Unexpectedly earning one felt like a lot like a blessing. And the fact that he could even think in terms of blessings showed that he’d been hanging around Gen too damn much.

  But for now, maybe that’s all that mattered. Letting Lex care about him. Letting Gen in. Not fighting it. Accepting the fact that there were two people in his life who actually gave a damn about him. Because at the very least, the two of them cancelled out Klay and Tyler.

  Maybe that was better than it had always been.

  Chapter 33

  Cobra’s work week was cut short because of Thanksgiving. An extra day off. Everyone who worked at the gym buzzed with excitement. Except for Gen and Cobra.

  For her, this formerly-favorite holiday felt a lot like mandatory volunteer service. Committed to show up, do the task, and then slink out as soon as her conscience would allow. She wouldn’t be doing it if Mary hadn’t asked. It wasn’t that she didn’t want to see her family—she did. She missed them terribly, and the past three months away had felt more like a year.

  But the unknown of what came next—after Thanksgiving dinner, after the questions, after the disapproving looks—had her worried. Cobra had shown up to work earlier that week with a black eye the size of Montana. Her family would freak. And furthermore, she needed to be careful to not let any of these new vocabulary words slip out. Fuck had to go back into the vault; fudge must reign supreme. Pussy, cock, and shit most definitely couldn’t come out to play. Neither would ghosting, toking, or YOLO.

  It might be better if she kept her mouth shut.

  She and Cobra had decided to drive north as soon as work got out on Wednesday. They’d clocked in with bags packed. Reluctance rolled off Cobra as they headed for his car under the late afternoon sun, which blazed orange-red with the golden hour. The sun set so early in the fall; they’d make the majority of their drive in the dark.

  “I think we’re all set.” She shut the trunk gently, their bags safely stowed inside, and squinted up at Cobra. “You still want me to drive your car?”

  Cobra nodded, but he didn’t smile. He pinched her elbow though—a good sign. She nibbled on her lip as she slid into the driver’s seat. She’d offered to drive, since her own car was in the shop. Four hours north to her parents’ house. And then the grand, unexpected hello.

  “Oooh, what’s this?” She pointed at a flashy touch screen stereo. Lime green letters scrolled What Up Bitches? on the screen as they piled into the car. “New stereo?”

  He shrugged, but she caught a hint of pride in his eyes. “Yeah. Thought I’d get something new for my old girl. It was on sale.” He wet his bottom lip, looking at her.

  “Excellent purchase.” The fact that Cobra had splurged on something for himself made her absolutely giddy, though she couldn’t exactly say why. They buckled up, and Gen started the car.

  Cobra didn’t talk much as she pulled out of the Holt parking lot. As the blinker tick-tick-ticked softly, she worked up the courage to ask the question that had been burning inside her all day.

  “Do you still want to do this?”

  Cobra smirked. “Do you really want me to answer that?”

  Gen sighed. “I think that’s my answer. I can drop you off at your apartment.”

  Cobra’s faced darkened. “No, Gen. I’m going.”

  “Are you sure?”

  “I told you I would.”

  She nodded, relaxing slightly. But whatever relief she found through Cobra’s assurance was replaced by doubt of how this unannounced homecoming might unfold.

  You can love a place but not want to be there. Sophie’s words churned inside her as she drove through the mid-afternoon crush of Angelenos. What would she find after over three months away?

  Cobra took charge of music and navigating them out of the city. His brooding presence at her side both distracted and reassured. Cobra was an anchor that she’d never realized her ship was missing. But more than that too. He was her guide. Her protector. Friend. Lover.

  Once they broke out of the city limits, the tension in the car dissipated. Maybe it was because they’d escaped the crush of vehicles and pollution, but something had shifted. Now, it felt like a bona fide road trip, kind of like Planes, Trains and Automobiles, which she’d seen for the first time last month. Hopefully with less mishaps.

  “Gas is getting low,” Cobra said while he adjusted knobs, searching for a new station outside of LA city limits.

  She smirked. “Thanks. I’ll pull over soon.”

  He sent her a private smile. “Just trying to help.” An ad for teeth whitening came into crisp focus on the radio. Cobra frowned and kept flipping. After a few more tries, he sighed and left the radio on some pop music station. He ran a hand through his hair.

  “Hey, you mind if I smoke?”

  “You mean weed?”

  He jerked his head into a nod, staring out the windshield.

  “I don’t care. But I thought you only smoked with people, and I can’t smoke before I go see my family again.”

  “Yeah. Uh…” He dug in his pocket, revealing
a small baggie of weed. “This is kind of different.”

  “How so?”

  “Meeting your folks and all that.” He bent his neck as he packed his little pipe. “Kinda calls for some extra help.”

  Cobra smoked quickly, blowing the fragrant puffs out the window. A calm had descended within the car. She glanced over at him.

  “I didn’t realize it would make you so nervous.”

  He raked his fingers through his hair, over and over again, like petting himself. It seemed to help. “I can’t even say how many years it’s been since I’ve been around anybody’s parents.”

  “Not even your own?” The question flew out of her mouth before she could stop it. But she didn’t get the brooding look she’d expected.

  “No, Red. Not even my own.”

  She gripped the steering wheel, the question on her lips burning so badly she could taste the lead tang of blood. Finally, it popped out. “Why not?”

  Cobra tugged at the front piece of his hair. “’Cause I don’t have any. Never met my dad. And my mom…is dead to me.”

  Gen rolled her lips inward. Before she could press for more, Cobra spoke.

  “I know you’ve got a hundred more questions, Red. But save ’em. That’s all I’m gonna say.” Cobra settled back into the seat, staring out the windshield with hooded eyes.

  “Were you orphaned?”

  Cobra sighed tersely. “Red.”

  “Sorry.”

  He turned his lighter over in one hand, flicking it without lighting it. A few moments of silence passed, and then he said, “Not orphaned. Foster care.”

  Gen swallowed a knot in her throat. Those words alone allowed a painful glimpse into his past. She couldn’t imagine what he’d been through, or what the true story might be.

  Cobra sniffed hard, his gaze shifting out the side window.

  “You don’t have to—” Gen began.

  “Klay and Tyler were my foster brothers,” Cobra said, stiffening in the seat. She glanced over at him—his face was stony, almost unrecognizable. “Only family I’ve got.”