Page 34 of Ballistic

At her greeting on the other end, I spoke low into the phone. “It’s Dax. I need whatever you can find on an Eden O’Malley. Some bad shit.” I cleared my throat, brushing my thumb across my nose as if she were sitting in front of me. “Snuff.”

“Damn, Dax. I hate having to search for those.”

“Better you than me, sweetheart. My trigger finger gets twitchy just thinking about it.”

“All right, I’m on it. I find something, I’ll send it to the email from before. You have access to that?”

“On my phone.”

“Then, it’ll be encrypted.”

“Fair deal. Thanks.”

“Anytime.”

I clicked off, stuffed the phone into my back pocket, and lit up a cigarette. The urge to know more about the girl, to understand why Nicoleta would risk her own life to set things straight, had nagged at me most of the night.

It was tragic how some girls—the good ones—like my sister, Livvie, got dealt a bullshit hand in life sometimes. Like the universe just up and forget about them, left them to fend for themselves against the flock of predators who got off on bastardizing their innocence. Of course, in Livvie’s case, the bullshit had started long before her murder.

My bones ached, as I climbed the stairs of the tired, ratted front porch. With all the money my foster parents, or June and Hank as I preferred to call them, collected taking in kids, seemed like the house should’ve been one of the nicest on the block. Fucking chateau in the hood, instead of the white trash hellhole that sat as an eyesore in an already run down area of Detroit. Just proved what little shit they gave when it came to things they should’ve taken care of. The moment I set my hand on the front door knob, a scream from inside coiled down my spine.

Livvie.

Shoulder first, I slammed through the door to find her crouched in the corner of the living room, eyes wide with terror. Across from her, my foster father stood with a belt looped for whipping.

“Hank! Stop this!” June reached out for his drawn back arm and with his palm stretched over her face, he shoved her backward into the wall.

I charged forward, barreling straight for his mid-section, knocking him down to the floor.

Someone screamed, didn’t know if it was June or Livvie, but I didn’t care. I had the bastard beneath me, and I hammered my fist into his nose. Blood sprayed up, and his body shook, trying to get free, but I popped him again. Another punch struck his eye. A third split his lip. I punched him until his fight settled and June captured my drawn back fist, as she stood sobbing over me.

“Please! No more!”

I didn’t even realize tears had gathered in my eyes, until I craned my head, catching her blurred form trembling with fear.

Fear for what? This cocksucker? That I might hurt him as much as he’d hurt every kid that ever skated through their shithole chateau?

Lip peeled back, I wrenched my arm from her and pushed to my feet, towering over her. “I promised if he ever touched her I’d kill him.” Not sparing her another second, I strode across the room and crouched in front of Livvie, who bore the strikes of his belt in thick red welts across her arms, her shoulders, her face, wherever the cocksucker could get a hit in, it seemed.

“I was … Reed and I were … in the car. He saw us kiss.” Her whole body trembled as she spoke, and I reached out to rub my hand across her arm, careful not to touch her wounds. Reed was my buddy, Jase’s, younger brother, one she’d met going to meetings at The Ladder, something of a group home where we’d all ended up before landing in foster care. “The minute I walked into the house, Hank pinned me to the wall. Called me a whore.” Eyes glistening with tears, she shook her head and lowered her gaze from mine. “We were just hanging out, Dax.”

“It’s okay, Livvie. Everything’s going to be okay.” I stroked a hand down her hair, lifting her gaze to mine, and just caught the wide-eyed terror staring back at me before a sharp pain struck my back. The burn radiated across my spine, sending tingles into my limbs, as every nerve flared beneath my skin. A roar of agony cracked through my chest, and I reached behind, to palpate an object sticking out of my back that felt like the hilt of a knife. When I twisted around, Hank’s swollen and bloody face stared down at me, eyes brimming with murderous rage.

I made my way back inside, to find Nicoleta sat up on the bed, eyes heavy with sleep.

“Jasper Horn.”

The name slapped me with confusion as I closed the door. “Come again?”

“He’s the first on my list. One of the men who killed Eden.”

“Great. But you’re in no condition to take down a Christmas tree, let alone a murdering rapist.”

“I’m fine.” She pushed to her feet and wobbled backward, falling onto the bed again. “I just need to eat something.”

“You need to eat for about a week, before you’ll be in any shape to confront a criminal.”

“I don’t have a week. In case you didn’t happen to notice, people are after us. If we sit idle, they’ll surely find us. Dmitry has eyes everywhere.”