No Broken Beast Read online

  I know him in that slow way he moves. Like he knows just how strong he is and he’s holding back so he won’t break the world with that Redwood body.

  And I know him in those eyes, the only naked thing I can see past the thick wrappings and hood over his face and head.

  The noonday light falls down, turning darkness into brilliant amethysts, shades of crystal violet. His eyes nearly glow from the shadows.

  Then those eyes lock onto me, and I forget how to breathe.

  Sweet Jesus. If I’d ever doubted it was him, standing in the doorway of Sweeter Things, all doubts are obliterated now.

  His eyes burn through me. I kinda get now why people call him a monster. He’s a predator, a carnivore, and right now...I feel like prey.

  But there’s no malice on his face. Leo just looks hungry.

  Hungry in the most anguished, tortured way a man can be.

  Hungry like he’s somehow satisfying some deep, wild craving with every spare moment our gazes fuse and I’m frozen in place. My body spins through hot flashes and cold chills, numb to Fuchsia starting to talk at the podium or Zach tugging my hand and asking me to lift him up.

  Numb to everything but the cruel, vivid trembling I feel to the bone. I stare into Leo’s eyes and realize it then.

  I’ve missed him so effing much.

  I’ve tried so hard not to think about him all these years. I couldn’t deal with the conflict and confusion of figuring out how to feel when he saved my life.

  He killed the man I hated to love and loved to hate, because even when your father treats you like an afterthought and dominates your life, even when he belittles you and then tries to sweep you aside in a murderous rage, you still love him because he’s all you ever had, and you don’t know any better.

  I’m older now. I know better and I’ve been on my own for so long, trying to be the parent my father never was.

  But that knot of emotion comes undone inside me. The stormy conflict that comes from not knowing how to feel, it’s still there. Still trapped in that moment eight years ago, and I never knew how to deal with it, so I just didn’t.

  Well, I might not have a choice anymore.

  Not when Leo’s gaze flicks from me and down to the little boy holding my hand, something darkening in what little I can see of his expression. My chest nearly explodes with wanting.

  God.

  No matter what he did, no matter why I ran away...

  There’s something deep inside me that’s just as hungry as him.

  Just as tortured. These feelings rip out of me so raw and hot it’s like we just tumbled into bed together yesterday, full of laughter and promises and tomorrows.

  And a crazy part of me wants my son to have a father.

  I’ve got to figure something out. I’ve got to...

  “—this man isn’t the monster you’re looking for, when the real monsters at Galentron—”

  Maybe it’s that dreaded m-word that pulls my focus back to Fuchsia like some kind of terrible curse, a trigger word dragging my attention away from Leo. She’s in full public speaker mode, projecting her voice, and I realize she’s telling everyone about...

  Oh crap.

  This sixth sense hits me.

  Before I even hear the tell-tale zing of a speeding bullet, I’m diving for Zach, dragging him to the ground.

  A split second later, that bullet smashes into the stone column right behind Fuchsia’s head.

  One inch to the right, and that would be her skull exploding. Not the pulverizing cloud of grey dust as the bullet disappears inside a new hole in the stone, cracks radiating all around it.

  For a second, Fuchsia blinks and goes oddly still with that eerie calm she has.

  Then the entire plaza erupts into chaos.

  People screaming everywhere, people running, people forming a stampede.

  We’ve got to get out of here now.

  I don’t think anyone’s going to shoot at me, but I can’t risk Zach getting trampled to death. So I bundle him up in my arms and stand in a half hunch, keeping low as I push against the crowd, ducking and bobbing and weaving through the shouting masses.

  There’s barely time to see Leo charging toward us.

  I don’t even think.

  The instinct to see him as safe is too strong, and I adjust direction, shoving us through flailing arms and churning bodies toward the juggernaut parting the sea of flesh to get to us. Zach clings to me, eerily silent, but that’s what he does—shuts down and goes completely quiet when he’s afraid.

  I think he got that from me.

  Making himself so small the bad things can’t find him.

  I won’t let them hurt him. I just clutch him protectively close, as Leo and I finally crash together.

  Time freezes.

  There’s one lost second where the world falls away, and we just stare at each other up close.

  “Nine, get back here!” Fuchsia snaps, descending the podium.

  There’s a growl from behind his mask. I just stare at him with this breathless, wordless understanding, as easy as if we haven’t been apart for almost a decade.

  Then his hand is on my arm, hot through his gloves, gentle.

  He steers me and Zach away, just as screaming sirens erupt over the plaza.

  Leo lets out a low snarl in the back of his throat. “Hurry,” he rasps.

  I realize his voice is different.

  It’s always been deep, husky, but there’s something nearly scorched about it now. Ragged. Gravelly.

  Leo, what happened to you?

  But I bite my tongue so we can break through the crowd and duck around the side of the school. I recognize the bright blue double doors set into the ground—the storm shelter, the big one we used as a town evacuation space for natural disasters.

  Leo lets go of my arm long enough to wrench the double doors open in a massive heaving of strength, his entire body straining and shoulders bunching.

  Then his hand falls on the small of my back—massive, heavy, long fingers spread so wide they touch nearly both sides of my waist, blazing hot.

  As the screams fade and Sheriff Langley’s voice rises over a bullhorn, the beast they call Nine ushers me down the steps into the darkness.

  It’s not long before I bump up against a locked door—the entrance underground. But it’s already too late to turn back. Leo draws the doors shut again, blocking out the light from outside and casting us into pitch blackness.

  We’re trapped in the stairwell, so close there’s no room to move.

  Leo’s body crushes against mine, with Zach wedged in the small space between us.

  My heart pounds so hard I can barely hear anything but that and the soft, shallow sound of Zach’s panicked breaths.

  Outside, there’s still so much noise, but the double doors and the walls around us mute it until it’s just us in the pitch blackness, and the raw living heat of Leo.

  Even when I can’t see him, I feel him.

  He’s so tall, so massive, takes up so much space.

  Against my shoulder, I sense the flex and pull of his abs in tight, moving ridges as he breathes.

  I don’t know what to say.

  My tongue is tied in knots, and God he even still smells the same, this wilderness scent that makes me think of the bursting forests and earth and pine needles.

  “Clarissa,” he grates out.

  “Leo—”

  We both stop, and he goes more tense against me.

  Okay, this is killing me.

  I don’t know if I want to cry or just throw myself against him, wrap us all up together and hold on tight.

  But after a moment he takes a slow, audible breath and says, “The kid all right?”

  “My name’s Zach,” my son pipes up softly before I can answer, his voice barely a whisper, but steady, and I can’t help but smile.

  “He’s tougher than he looks,” I murmur. “He’ll be fine.”

  Nothing. That’s what Leo gives back.

  I
n the silence, a crazy part of me wants to scream of course he’ll be okay, he takes after you, he’s yours! but I’m not that reckless. Not that brave.

  So all I say is, “What were you thinking, going out there like that? And trying to—”

  “Stop Fuchsia.” He cuts me off. “She was trying to put on her little expose like a piece of bad performance art. I tried to stop her before it happened. I didn’t want anybody getting hurt.”

  I shake my head. “Who was shooting at her, though?”

  He pauses. “I don’t know. I’ve got one guess, and it’s the same as yours.”

  Galentron. Or someone they’d hired. Everything begins and ends with them.

  But there’s something about the way he says it that makes me think he knows more.

  And if he does, then he might know how and why Deedee got herself tangled up in this.

  “Look,” I whisper. “I didn’t mean to come back, I just...”

  I can’t finish. It feels too much like an apology.

  Like I’m saying sorry for intruding in his life again, dragging him out in the open, even if it’s not my fault and it’s just the way things happened.

  Or maybe I’m apologizing for running away.

  For leaving him behind, for being too scared to face my feelings.

  Too afraid that I’d turned into a monster, too, being grateful to him for killing my father.

  I swallow, holding Zach tighter. “It’s just that Deanna—”

  “I know,” Leo says softly, some of that harsh, burning edge to his voice soothing. “I’ve already been on it. Rissa, I swear—”

  “Don’t,” I whisper, almost too quick. “Don’t make any promises. We don’t do very well with those.”

  The silence tastes like hurt.

  Bitter.

  I don’t know why I said that. I’m reeling, probably in shock, falling apart, and I don’t know what I’m thinking, what I’m saying. That wasn’t fair of me.

  I was the one who left.

  But I don’t know what else to say now, and I bite my lip, searching for something, anything.

  Until the doors over us rattle, parting just enough for a sliver of light. It bursts in, illuminating one amethyst eye. His gaze is locked on my face and cuts me so deep.

  But Zach whimpers, burying his face in my throat, clutching close. “Mom,” he squeaks, obviously scared.

  Someone’s getting in.

  I don’t know what to do. Where to run. What to even think except it’s all bad.

  What if it’s the person who fired the gun?

  What if they know I’m Deanna’s sister, and they’re here to take me away from my son and leave him alone with no one to love him and no idea he’s with his father right now?

  It can’t just end like this...can it?

  “Leo,” I strain out, only for his massive bulk to shoulder me gently out of the way.

  He stops, positioning himself at the foot of the stairs, right in front of the doors. Between us and danger. It’s incredible how some things never change.

  “Stay put!” he growls. “Stay quiet. It’ll be all right.”

  It won’t. I know it won’t.

  But right now, I have no one I can trust.

  No one except Leo Regis.

  6

  A Journey of a Thousand Miles (Nine)

  I’m pretty sure we’re hosed.

  More precisely, I’m pretty sure I’m fucking hosed.

  Clarissa and the kid will be fine, whenever the cops break down the door to rescue them from the big bad wolf of Heart’s Edge. It won’t be Galentron, not a skeletal strike team in broad daylight where half the town might see them.

  Me, though? Confronted by Langley and his boys or maybe some backup from the rest of the county?

  I know what’ll happen.

  I know what I’ll do. Even if I don’t have a clue about how.

  I won’t go back to jail.

  I fucking can’t.

  I’ll lose my mind, locked up in a six by eight cage again, pacing like a lion in a zoo, slowly suffocating.

  But if I resist, even old Langley just might give the shoot-to-kill order.

  I don’t think he’d honestly mean to.

  He’d just lose it in a fit of nerves, and accidentally pull the trigger, or have one of his bumbling deputies do the same.

  I turn for a second, staring at the boy. Even if he’s Clarissa’s son by whoever took my place in her life, I can’t.

  Can’t force him to watch a man get gunned down in front of him.

  So I close my eyes, take a deep breath, and raise my hands.

  Prison or not, I’m going to surrender, and figure out the logistics of getting loose and disappearing again when I don’t have to worry about scarring a kid for life.

  I’m ready. Waiting to be told to come out with my hands up, when the cop on the other side finally manages to pop the tricky latch on the doors and yanks them open.

  “Are you coming, or are you putting on a mime show?” A familiar voice bites off coolly.

  Gray Caldwell.

  He stands tensely in the doorway, a tall shadow with the sun at his back, the light reflecting off his glasses as he glances over his shoulder sharply. It’s still pretty wild outside, judging by the background noise.

  Shit.

  No time like the present, then.

  I glance back at her.

  Rissa, who’s staring at me with haunted eyes, so many questions swirling in her irises.

  I can’t believe she even recognizes me. I’m wrapped up like a damn mummy, covered from head to toe, but hell. If anyone would know me, it’s her.

  Just never wanted her to see me like this.

  Give it a day. I’ll be out of her life as soon as I can.

  Then she won’t have to see that the monster I’ve become is worse than the monster the town thinks I am.

  Taking a deep breath, I toss my head at her. “Come on. Let’s get the hell out of here.”

  “Move!” Gray snaps in that authoritarian tone he has. “Our annoying friend is keeping the police quite busy, but once the code for a sniper in downtown Heart’s Edge spreads, we’ll have uniforms swarming in from ten towns over. Not even Fuchsia can delay that.”

  He’s right, and I can’t risk that shit.

  Rissa seems to understand, finally. After a second of hesitation, she nods and steps forward. I hang back, waiting, letting her and the boy go ahead, before I bring up the rear, keeping them safely hidden between me and Gray.

  From there it’s a frantic run to the back of his shiny new truck. He’s parked it skewed across the mouth of the street leading down the side of the school, giving us enough cover so we’re able to move mostly out of sight.

  I catch one last glimpse of Fuchsia. She’s eerily calm, looking like she’s saying something cutting even as Langley maneuvers her into handcuffs. Then I’ve got Clarissa around the waist and I’m lifting her into the back of his truck with the boy still in her arms.

  She’s so damn light I’d almost forgotten how small she was, next to me.

  She’s a tall woman, yeah, but I’m something else.

  And I remember how she always used to tell me, You make me feel fragile, Leo. But you also make me feel safe. And I kinda like it.

  I like feeling protected.

  For a moment, as she flashes past in a wild swirl of mahogany hair, our eyes fuse together again.

  And I know she remembers those times, too. I know they hold her prisoner, same as me.

  She’s breathless, flushed, and swept away with me back to that moment.

  * * *

  Eight Years Ago

  She’s with me, dammit.

  That’s all that truly matters right now.

  I hurt all the fuck over.

  Hurt everywhere in ways I haven’t in so long. Not when I’ve been good about toeing the line like a good little soldier, pretending to be obedient. Pretending the conditioning works on me.

  Pretending I’m one of the
Nighthawks pack.

  Too bad I’m not.

  For some reason, Dr. Ross was in my room in the barracks today, deep in the Galentron facility buried inside the abandoned silver mine. He found the new carving I’d been working on.

  The little figurine of a woman with her hair pinned up in a messy twist, her hands in the middle of crafting some invisible thing.

  It didn’t matter what.

  I just wanted to capture Rissa’s essence as this creative, beautiful soul, her hands always shaping sweetness from the smallest things.

  But I still remember that sadistic piece of shit stomping down on the flower I’d carved as a boy. On damn near everything I’d made in the following years.

  Dr. Ross sees rebellion. A sign of my individuality, maybe, when that’s not allowed in the Nighthawks.

  The bastard always thought I stopped misbehaving like a good boy. He never realized I just learned to hide it better.

  Now, he knows.

  Somehow, the punishment feels worse as a combat hardened mercenary than it did as a kid.

  My entire face throbs from the beating I took, deep in a back storage room where no one would hear the sounds of ten fists hitting my body.

  The other Nighthawks didn’t even question their orders.

  Hell, I’m not sure they were even aware they were doing it. Their eyes were blank, expressions focused, completely controlled by the fucked up shrink and his commands.

  But at least I didn’t scream.

  I didn’t yell once, though I hiss as Rissa touches her fingertips to my cheek with a worried noise, turning my face from side to side to see the damage.

  “Leo,” she murmurs, looking up at me with her eyes dark. “Who did this? Why would anyone do this to you?”

  I smile, though it makes my lower lip hurt, still swollen and split. “I insulted the galley cook’s mac and cheese. Sue me.”

  She smiles faintly, sadly, and leans over to rummage around in the hastily thrown-together bag of first aid stuff she’d dug out. I’d shown up under her window in the dead of night, tossing sticks and pebbles softly at the glass till she peered out, caught sight of me in the light spilling from her window, and let out a soft, hurting gasp before disappearing.