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I know what it’s like to sleep with one eye open.
I’ve done it my entire life.
She deserves a little respite from the pain she’s suffered.
The cape knotted around my neck eases a little with what I’ve done tonight.
Chapter 4
Lauren
If I were alone, I’d throw my cell phone against the wall when I look down and see it void of call and text notifications.
I sent a text to Alan Moore, my FBI handler, three days ago. When he didn’t respond, I sent an SOS text.
I’m not in danger, despite my skin feeling like it’s getting sticky around all the sweetness here at the Cerberus clubhouse. He’s supposed to get back to me immediately after an SOS call. What if I was really in trouble?
The FBI would replace you in a second.
I know that may be partially true, but the FBI doesn’t have many agents like me.
I do things, work cases, most men are too afraid to touch.
I welcome the depravity, the punishment, the real threat that I may enter a house and never see daylight again.
It makes me feel alive.
I feel like I’m dwindling here, and although he’s not saying it directly, Diego “Kincaid” Anderson, president of the Cerberus MC, thinks it’s time for me to move on.
“Still haven’t heard from him?” Diego asks.
I shake my head and shrug. “It’s New year’s Eve. He’s probably letting loose a little for the holiday.”
“I can put in a call,” he offers.
Translation—the sooner you’re gone, the better.
He’s too mannered, too polite to tell me that I make people feel uneasy, that he, along with everyone else, can’t truly understand why I am the way I am.
I guess I should be grateful he hasn’t offered to help me other than giving me a place to crash for a few days.
I’d be out the door faster than anyone could blink if he mentions Dr. Alverez, the psychologist the club uses regularly when one of the members drags home some stray victim they couldn’t cut loose on a job, or when one of the members themselves struggle with something they saw or had to do in the field.
I understand the idea of it, but the whole healthy mind, body, and spirit bullshit makes me want to roll my eyes.
Feeding the demons is the only way to control them. Fighting them keeps the power exchange tipped in their favor.
Talking about it with an overpriced doctor and cleansing your mind of it may work for them, but I’ve got no damn interest in all that woo-woo shit.
“He’ll get back to me soon,” I assure Diego. “If I don’t hear from him tomorrow, I’ll head to the office.”
“I’m not trying to rush you out, but—”
There’s always a but, and statistically, it means everything said before that one three letter word is complete shit.
“We’re thinking of expanding.”
“More guys?” I ask, choosing to focus on that part of the conversation rather than the half lie he’s just told.
