Monster (15 page)

Her hand reached out,
touching my arm.

“It's nothing.
I'll forget this in a week,” she suggested.

“Alex, nothing
will ever take away the memory of having a grown ass fuckin' man
throwing a right hook to your jaw.”

Her body shifted in
front of mine, her hands going to my face, pulling until I had no
choice but to lift it.

Her jaw was red where
my fist had landed. It would bruise by the morning. A constant
reminder of what I had done.

“I'm fine. Jazzed
up, but fine.”

“You can't be
fuckin' serious right now.”

“Oh come on. You
feel it too,” she said, lowering her eyes at me. “All
that fear and adrenaline. It's like... napalm in the system. I can't
even feel my face.”

She meant that. But in
an hour, when the adrenaline gave way to rational thought...

“Alex...”

“Come on. It was
a stupid little nothing punch, Breaker.”

“You ain't gonna
think that was a stupid little nothing punch once you stop being all
jazzed up.”

“Whatever. It's
over. I could hit you to make things even,” she said, giving me
a weird little smile. “But I'm pretty sure your jaw is made of
granite. It would probably hurt me more than you.”

She was trying to
comfort me.

That was ridiculous.

I was the one who was
supposed to be doing the comforting. I was the one who crossed a
line. I needed to try to make things right.

“You can hit me
any time you want. But until then, why don't we get the fuck out of
here?” I said, holding an arm out toward the door.

And she didn't flinch
when my arm raised.

I was taking that as a
good sign.

She wasn't afraid of
me.

That was somewhere to
work off of.

“Only if you cook
again. I'm starving,” she said casually, as if we hadn't just
gone through the weirdest experience of both of our lives. “Oh,”
she said, turning back at the bottom stair, looking at me. “Yeah.
And I gave Shooter a knife.”

Ten

Alex

I'm not exactly sure
what I had been expecting from the meeting. But whatever I did have
in mind, well, it was nowhere near as weird as what happened. With
Lex acting all odd and formal. With Shoot seeming to care more about
my life than his own even though he didn't know me at all.

I think a part of me
had thought that Lex was going to pounce on me as soon as I walked
in. I had expected anger. Hatred. Bitterness.

But there was none of
that.

And that made no sense.

It didn't fit into his
personality.

And, believe me, I knew
all about his personality. I could do a psychological assessment I
knew him so well. When he found out someone was working against him,
well, let's just say he didn't ever take that news well.

I should have been
beaten and dragged out of there. By the times guns were finally
drawn, I had planned on already being in the throws of whatever an
overdose of heroin felt like.

Something wasn't right.

And then I couldn't
worry about that anymore because Shooter was being forced onto his
knees and giving his last words and I just... couldn't let that
happen. I didn't know him from Adam, but he had shown me, a complete
stranger, kindness.

I couldn't let Breaker
lose his best friend.

Because of me.

No way.

So I did the stupidest
thing a woman could do around a man like Lex Keith. I screamed at
him. I belittled him. I emasculated him.

And he didn't even rise
to the bait.

Yeah, something was
seriously off.

Breaker turned to me.
His arm raised. I braced for it. But, in the end, there was no
preparing for something like that. I had never been punched in the
face before. Slapped? Sure. But punched? By a huge, hulking man? No.
So while I had imagined it was going to be unpleasant, the reality
was something I couldn't have dreamed.

The second of contact
sent off an explosion of pain that seemed to radiate out, making my
whole face throb as I felt myself start to fall. I had presence of
mind to brace my fall just in time, half slamming into Shooter as I
did so. My hand went to my face as my mind struggled to think through
the pain.

And then Shoot was
offering me his hand. And I remembered the knife.

He took it with the
barest of smiles at his lips. Just a ghost of a grin with a light in
his eyes as he tucked it into his shoe much like I had done.

Then everyone was gone.

And, somehow, the train
car was more full of tension than it had been with three bad guys in
it.

Because Breaker looked
like something had shattered inside him.

He wasn't that kind of
man.

The kind who used his
strength against women.

And he couldn't
reconcile this reality with the idea he had of himself.

Well, he was just going
to have to get over it.

It was over.

Hopefully it never had
to happen again.

But even if it did, I
could never blame him for it.

“What the fuck do
you mean you gave Shoot a knife?”

He took the stairs
casually two at a time to match my run.

“I mean I took
one of your pocketknives out of your pantry and put it in my boot.
And when I fell... I handed it off to Shoot.”

Breaker stopped at the
top landing, blocking my way, looking down at me. “Say again?”

I felt myself shrug. “I
figured if he got himself into a situation... it would be good for
him to have... something.”

“He's good with a
knife,” Breaker said, looking over my shoulder. “Almost
as good as he is with a gun.”

“And with a name
like Shooter, I imagine that is pretty good.”

To this, he nodded.
“You may have just saved his life, Alex,” he said, his
blue eyes soft.

“It was the least
I could do seeing as he was ready to give his life up for me,”
I said, moving upward so he had to step back for me to walk past. It
was starting to feel claustrophobic in the warehouse. I needed to get
out. Get away. Breaker led me out to the car, opening my door for me,
when I finally blurted out something I had been wondering since he
said it. “Why would you send Shooter's dad scotch?”

Breaker snorted, his
eyes warming a little. “Shoot's dad is a boozer. Always has
been. Mean fuck when he drinks. Which is all the time. Used to beat
the shit out of Shoot. As soon as he could afford it, he started
sending his old man cases of expensive scotch every month.”

“Why?”

“It's just his
own little 'fuck you' to him I guess. Knows the bastard would want to
turn it down, but he can't 'cause he's an alcoholic, so he drinks it
all. Gives Shoot some kind of sick satisfaction.”

“I like Shooter,”
I said, getting into the seat and looking over at Breaker who was
just standing there, holding the door open, his face a blank mask.
“You'll get him back, Breaker.”

A muscle twitched in
his jaw as he slammed the door and made his way around the truck.

The entire ride back to
his house was in silence, both of us lost in our own thoughts. Which
we probably should have been sharing. Comparing notes about what
happened. See if we both picked up on the same strangeness of the
whole encounter.

If Lex knew what I was
doing, why was he having Breaker keep me? Why wasn't I in the fallout
shelter in the woods getting all kinds of tortured? Why was I being
given more time to do more damage? It made no sense whatsoever.

The rocks crunched
under the tires of the truck, snapping me out of my thoughts as his
house came into view.

Breaker got silently
out of the truck and made his way up to the door, leaving me to
follow behind him.

He needed to snap out
of it. Hell, if anything, shouldn't he be happy I wasn't like...
seizing and foaming out the mouth right about then?
Hello
...
we should have been celebrating the fact that I was able to breathe
another day. But, no, he was being all sulky because he had to put a
hand on me.

Granted, my jaw was
killing me, but I wasn't telling him that.

Sometime halfway into
the ride, the adrenaline slipped away, taking with it whatever was
keeping me blissfully unaware of pain. The throbbing came back
stronger. Anytime I tried to open my mouth, it sent a shooting pain
up my mandible and into my temple.

But still. It wasn't
something to be all broken up about.

Breaker went in and
went right to his liquor cabinet, taking out two glasses, and pouring
into one. He raised the second one to me and I shook my head. I
wasn't much of a drinker. And I definitely didn't drink whiskey
straight from the bottle.

“I'm gonna go...
get cleaned up,” I said instead, needing to get out of the
dusty clothes, needing to wash the whole experience away. And also,
needing to give Breaker a few more minutes to get himself back
together.

I showered, changed
back into the tee Breaker had given me earlier, then stopped to check
out the damage to my face.

It was darkening. A
bluish-purple four inch mark at the line just above my jawbone. With
any luck, it wouldn't get much worse. He was already going to have a
hard enough time looking at me.

I walked back out to
find him sitting on the couch, the TV on low and his gaze was fixed
on it, but he was looking through it. He had a rocks glass on his
thigh, his hand wrapped around it, it's amber liquid half-filling it.

With a sigh, I made my
way toward the living room, picking up his laptop as I passed and
sitting down beside him.

There was still no
response on the post so I set to work adding some more details,
reports, making an even clearer image of Lex and his dealings.

Then I moved the laptop
back onto the coffee table, still open, and turned to Breaker. He was
still staring at the TV.

I reached over, taking
the glass out of his hand and he let me, then put it back on the
coffee table.

Then, before I could
think better of it, I moved across him, putting one knee on either
side of his hips, then pressing my chest against his, my face resting
under his chin.

I took a deep breath,
breathing him in. The crisp, clean soap from his shower, the woodsy
scent of his laundry detergent, and just... him.

“Alex...”

“Shut up,”
I said softly, letting one of my arms wrap around the back of his
neck. “We both lived through a meeting with Lex. If that isn't
a reason to hug, then I don't know what is. And I mean... I haven't
hugged anyone in years so just shut up and let me do it, okay?”

His chest jumped
slightly against me and I knew he was chuckling silently. A few
seconds later, one of his arms wrapped around my hips and pulled me
tighter.

“I'm sorry I hit
you,” he said, his deep voice so full of regret that I felt my
face nuzzle further into his neck, his beard tickling my cheek in the
process.

I turned my face
slightly, pressing my lips against his pulse. “Make it up to
me,” I suggested, biting into my lower lip, hoping he took the
bait or I was pretty sure I would die of mortification.

Breaker's hand slid up
my spine then slipped into my hair, curling into it slightly, and
using it to pull me backward. I moved back and looked down to find
him watching me with a raised brow. “Make it up to you?”

“Yep,” I
said, nodding, praying like hell my cheeks didn't break out into a
blush. That would seriously kill the whole 'being in charge' vibe I
was attempting.

“And how do you
propose I do that?” he asked, giving me one of those eye-smiles
of his.