Page 151 of The Monster and the Masochist

‘Not bad for a casual Tuesday,’ I mused, and my monster hummed its agreement in my chest.

‘Indeed.’

It was mid-afternoon by the time I arrived at the quaint detached home Vox had sent me the address for.

I frowned as I walked up the manicured cobblestone pathway to the bright red door, complete with an expensive golden lion’s head knocker.

The house was suburban and had little cottage-like accents, which made it feel homey and welcoming.

I knew that Vox had bought a place after he and Cal had dismantled the underground mercenary operation they’d both been groomed to work for since they were small children. As far as I knew, Apex had been shut down for several months now, and it had been an adjustment for both Cal and Vox as they tried to figure out what to do with themselves now that they were free to make their own decisions.

I’d figured Vox wouldn’t want to reintegrate into society the same way my brother had. I’d always assumed he would continue to use his very specific set of skills to do illegal, shady shit for a paycheck. So, this cute, cottagey home was not somewhere I’d ever expected him to live.

I would have expected him to buy a high-tech condo in the city to run what I was sure were still black-hat hacking jobs he took to pay the bills.

Whereas Cal now lived a much more modest life on a Fairview paycheck, Vox was still driving around in an Aston Martin.

The Aston Martin in question was parked in the driveway, and I was about to knock when the door opened.

My eyebrows raised in surprise as I took in the man himself.

He was in black jeans tucked into scuffed combat boots and a charcoal grey cotton t-shirt that was so worn and old it had tiny holes in the seams.

His arms were covered in black patchwork sleeves of tattoos, and his bleached white hair was damp and slicked back along his head, telling me he’d probably just stepped out of the shower.

A slight flicker of curiosity and concern danced across his face before he jerked his head toward the interior of the house, inviting me in.

The inside of the house seemed to be under renovation. There were thick plastic tarps tossed over surfaces, and the floor was exposed plywood, clearly waiting to be tiled.

I glanced around curiously, wondering what the plan was for this place as he led me through the construction zone and into a room that was already finished.

This room was more what I would have expected of someone like Vox.

It was an office space with a custom-built PC, black walls, and a desk that had not one, not two, but four gaming monitors set up.

I felt like I was standing on a movie set for a film about some underground dude that did off-the-books work for the Pentagon or something… which, for all I knew, might not be far off.

The walls were covered in framed posters of metal bands I wasn’t familiar with, and he had an electric guitar and amp set up in the corner, which was interesting.

I didn’t know he played guitar.

Huh. Go figure.

Vox threw himself into a high-backed gaming chair in front of the monitors, swiveling the chair away from the desk to face me.

He raised an expectant eyebrow, indicating that he wanted me to explain why I was here.

I reached into my Chanel bag and pulled out the reverend’s file, tossing it onto the desk in front of him.

“I need everything you can find on Reverend Elias Sterling. The dirtier the better,” I said, getting straight to the point.

What I liked about Vox was that there was never any need to mince words with him. He was voiceless by choice, so small talk was never a concern.

He frowned and slid the file closer to him, flipping through the various documents.

He toggled the mouse to his computer, and the monitors lit up, flashing dark windows full of white code that I couldn’t understand.

“He has a huge dead zone in his history… It’s like he just… appeared roughly ten years ago, but didn’t exist before that for some reason.”