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I make sure my gloves are secure, because we still don’t want to risk any DNA evidence being left. I pull my arm back and launch my fist forward, slamming him right in the side of the head. A wave of disappointment hits when the single hit knocks him out. But knocking him out isn’t the end goal here. So even though he’s not conscious during any of it, I keep going. I punch him over and over. His face, his stomach, anywhere that’s open. I channel all of my pent-up frustration. Frustration with my past, my life now. All the fucking sexual frustration I feel toward the one woman I shouldn’t want. I keep going until I know for certain there’s no way he could even possibly come back from all of my rage. Blood is everywhere. On my gloves, my clothes, all of me.
It isn’t until I hear a swift knock on the door that I know it’s time to end this. I pull back, my breathing heavy and labored, but I feel good. I feel like I can breathe again, which I know is so damn fucked up. But it’s something about myself that I refuse to examine too closely. I pull the gun out from where I had it tucked behind my back and place it right against his forehead. He’s lying on the ground, motionless and I’m pretty sure he’s already dead. But if there’s one thing I’ve learned over my time with Dark Matter Security, it’s that we can never be too careful. I pull in a heavy breath and let it out, releasing all my frustrations with it as well. And the moment I do, I pull the trigger.
* * *
The hot water cascades over me, and I stare as the deep red liquid circles the drain. I know I’m fucked up in the head, I have been my entire life. It’s what happens when you’re born to a woman who valued drugs and sex more than her own child. Sure, I received the basic care, enough to keep the state from ever looking too closely at my upbringing. But it didn’t keep me from knowing the truth.
I never met my father. I never bothered looking for him, either. It would probably be a piece of cake for Tanner or Wyatt to find him for me now, and I know they would if I asked. But I just don’t fucking care. I’m thirty-nine years old. Having a father in my life now isn’t going to make a fucking difference. If the fucker’s even alive still.
I’m quick to shake those thoughts from my head because there’s no point in thinking about it. I’ve become an expert at compartmentalizing. I put all the bullshit and garbage from my life, place it in a solid oak box and shove it to the back of my mind. I’ve been doing it since I was a teenager and I’ve only perfected the ability over the years and well into my adult life.
I finish rinsing off, then climb out of the shower and walk into my room to get dressed. It’s days like these that I’m thankful I decided to build my own place. I was cautious when I first started working for Dark Matter, but when Jax and Gunnar started building their own place years ago, I decided to go for it myself. It’s not big, Alec’s place is much larger since he still has room for every man on the team, and then some. But it’s still a decent size. Three bedrooms and two bathrooms. The kitchen is pretty damn large considering I never cook. I can cook, but there really is no point when it’s only me. Take-out is a hell of a lot easier.
Once I’m dried off and I pull on a pair of sweats, I check my phone to make sure I haven’t gotten anything from Alec. The only thing he really requires of us when we’re not on a job is to be available at a moment’s notice, unless we give him advance notice. We’re allowed to have lives outside of this job, he sure as hell does. Especially now that he has Willow. But if we’re not going to be available to respond immediately to something, he just wants to know ahead of time so he’s prepared for it. It’s pretty fucking rare that I’m not available though. Besides my occasional trips back home to check in on her, I rarely take time off. Even those trips are quick, usually a few days tops. There’s nothing on my phone, so I make my way to the kitchen to see what I have in my fridge to eat. Of course, there’s nothing. Usually when I order take-out, I get enough to last for a few days since I hate going into the city more than I have to.
I pull up the app to my favorite Chinese place in town and make an order for pick up before throwing on a t-shirt and my shoes to go grab it. By the time I get there, the order will be ready for me.
The land we all live on is just far enough from town that we don’t get much traffic. But it’s close enough that we can easily make trips for food and other shit without it being a huge deal. It only takes about twenty minutes to get to the Chinese restaurant, and the moment I step inside, I immediately regret choosing this place to order my dinner from.
She’s standing at the counter, only her back to me, but I’d know that back anywhere. The way her dark, curly brown hair brushes against her shoulder blades. Her trim waist expands into the most delectable hips. Anya Matterson has a perfect body. She has curves that any man would love to trace and eyes that are soulful and mysterious, but paired with a smile that lights up a fucking room. I avoid being in close proximity to her as much as possible, because it’s hard as fuck to keep myself under control around her.
She hasn’t noticed me, and I’m thankful for that. I watch as the cashier hands her back her card and receipt and another employee comes from the back with a large bag, practically filled to the brim with food containers. I hold my breath, preparing to see her face, and for her to see me, just as she begins to turn around.
“Oh-” Anya stops in her tracks, looking at me with those wide, expressive eyes. “Hi.”
I begin to open my mouth to respond, but instead just nod my head in acknowledgement.
“I, um, I don’t eat this much by myself.” I try not to let the anger rising inside of me show. Is she picking it up for her and another man? I doubt a woman like Anya goes long without a man in her life. From what Alec has said, she was burned pretty bad by some fucker in the past, but he hasn’t said much about the men in her life now. “I just, um, I have a lot of work to do this week, so I um-”
“Are you here to pick up an order?” The girl behind the counter interrupts Anya, and a part of me wants to snap at her. But another part of me is thankful for the interruption. I could listen to Anya talk all day, but the more I hear her smooth voice, the more I feel my self-control getting closer and closer to snapping.
“Yeah.” I step around Anya, but not before glancing at her one last time and mumbling, “enjoy your food.” It takes exactly thirty-four seconds before I hear the bell the restaurant has over the door, and I let out a sigh of relief when I know Anya is gone. I realize that I probably come off like a fucking asshole every time I near her, but it’s the only fucking way I know I’ll be able to keep my distance. If I let my guard down, even for a second, all hell will break loose.
I pay for my food and grab the two bags the woman hands me before making my way out of the restaurant and hurrying to my car. I glance over the parking lot, quickly spotting Anya walking down the street. I don’t actually know where she lives, but Alec made sure to vet the area to ensure her safety. This is a pretty good area, but still affordable. Even though I have no doubt that her brother would have bought her a place, she’s pretty damn independent from what I can tell. I’m tempted to wait and watch, to make sure she gets home okay. But I also know that if I find out where she lives, then it’ll just be another tear in my control. So I force my gaze away, turn on my car, and drive home.
CHAPTER THREE
Anya
“You’resure Alec won’t miss you tonight?” I ask Willow as we walk down the street to our favorite Mexican restaurant. At first we talked about getting Chinese food, but that made my mind go to Hunter and when I saw him there the other night. I made such a fool of myself, especially considering he probably thinks I’m a giant pig since I had enough food to feed four. Not wanting to relieve that trauma, I quickly suggested tacos and margaritas and luckily Willow was quick to agree.
“Oh he’ll definitely miss me, but I told him he’ll just have to deal with it.” She looks at me from the side of her eye and smiles wickedly. “He wasn’t thrilled which means you probably won’t want to come to the house with me tomorrow.”
“Oh God!” She bursts out in laughter at my response just as we reach the entrance to the restaurant. The host seats us quickly and within twenty minutes we’re on our second round of margaritas and chips and queso.
“He’s so hard to read!” I cry out, and I blame the ridiculously large amount of tequila in my glass, along with my recent lack of girl time for the fact that I’m complaining to Willow about Hunter.
“I didn’t even know you wanted to read him!” I laugh at the shock in her voice.
“He’s so hot!” I throw my body back in my seat overdramatically and Willow just laughs.
“I thought you were into Collins!” My face scrunches up and I shake my head emphatically.
“Hell no! I mean, he’s super cute, but not only is he so young, but he’s just not my type.”
“I don’t think I even realized you had a type.” I shrug my shoulders, because I really don’t think I realized I did either.
“Well, even if I don’t, it’s not Collins.”
