Page 3 of Broken Rebel

Neco

I pounded up the stairs from my office. I’d been working on cracking a security system all morning. The King Agency crew had a retrieval tonight, namely stealing a big-ticket item back from the thieves that took it in the first place so the insurance company didn’t have to pay out, which also meant a little breaking and entering. Nothing new, but the house they needed to get into was like Fort Knox, high tech all the way, and it had taken longer to get in the back door of the system than usual. I cracked it of course. Always did. The men at the agency specialized in getting around the law when it was required. It helped that we had the kinds of pasts that made us perfect for this kind of work. Criminal pasts. A bunch of ex-street thugs that had finally wised the hell up enough to go legit—well, at least that’s how it appeared.

We did things our own way, and that wouldn’t ever change.

The reception was quiet when I hit the top of the stairs, the only sound the music Ruby had streaming from her computer. Some alt shit that she loved. Like always, my eyes were drawn to her. I’d given up fighting it. Not looking at her would be as easy as asking the sun not to rise. If she was in the same room, I knew it, instantly. Her every move, no matter how subtle—shit, her every damn breath. No matter how much she pissed me off and made me fucking insane. Which she did constantly.

Jesus, I’d even thought I’d seen her last night, outside my place. It’d thrown me. I hadn’t been able to get her out of my head after that. I’d had a hot, willing woman begging for it, and in the end, I’d sent her packing. I’d already fucked enough women pretending they were Ruby. Last night I couldn’t face it. I’d lain awake hard as iron, tossing and turning, refusing to even rub one out, desperate to get her out of my damn head. It hadn’t worked.

Which meant today I was tired and horny and pissed the fuck off.

My gaze slid over her from head to toe. Her back was to me, standing at the copy machine, straightening a stack of papers. Her ass jiggled as she worked and danced. Shit. I gritted my teeth and lifted my gaze. She’d cut her hair; it was up to her shoulders now. Her hair was thick and black, with that ever-changing stripe of color down the side of her heart-shaped face. Today it was purple.

She turned to me, blue eyes connecting with mine through her black-rimmed glasses, and I felt a gut-punch. It’d been like that since the first time she’d knocked on my window, scared as hell, tears running down her face—in need of a safe place. I’d been that for her, for the longest time. I never thought that would ever change. I’d been wrong. So much was different now.

I was different now—my soul was a hell of a lot blacker, that’s for damned sure.

Her eyes widened a fraction, like they always did when she looked at me, lips parting slightly, as though her breath had been pushed from her lungs. There was an innocence I sensed inside her that called to me, called on every one of my possessive and protective instincts. Something she used against me whenever she got the chance.

It made my dick hard every fucking time. Maybe that made me a sick motherfucker, but I’d never pretended to be a saint. I was far from it.

But my dick would have to deal, because Ruby wasn’t for me. I won’t deny I wanted her. I wanted her in a way that bordered on obsession. Who was I kidding? I was obsessed. But we weren’t right for each other. We were both marked by our childhoods, by what followed, and in a way, that made the pair of us as compatible as oil and water. Or more like fire and gasoline.

Being with her like that would only bring out the worst version of myself. A side of me I never wanted her to see.

Today was her twenty-fifth birthday. I never forgot, though I pretended I did. Neither of us needed a reminder of the past, of the day it all went to hell.

I held her gaze, forcing a look of indifference. Whatever it took to keep her at arm’s length. “Are the rest of the guys here?”

Her head tilted to the side and those blue eyes narrowed in defiance, bright and terrifyingly beautiful, lighting her up from the inside. “Nice to see you, too, Neco. Surly as always, I see.”

Always with the attitude. It’d piss me off if it didn’t turn me the fuck on so much. And today, the way she looked, that pink sundress, showing her inked-up arms, shapely legs, nice little peak of cleavage—I wasn’t in the mood to play her games. I was never in the mood to play her games. Unfortunately, Ruby didn’t give a shit what I wanted.

“You have a good weekend?” she tacked on when I remained quiet.

I dipped my chin and waited for the blast to follow. We didn’t just shoot the shit. Asking about weekends was not something we did, not anymore. Our interactions now consisted of her getting herself into shit and me bailing her out. Which meant she was about to do or say something to piss me off.

“You?” I could fake the “let’s be friends” deal when I had to. And it was fake, we both knew it. We hadn’t been friends since Ruby’s sixteenth birthday. We tried to pretend for a while, but it never was the same after that night. I sure as hell knew why being her friend wasn’t something I could be anymore. I could only assume she knew as well, going by her constant attempts to get under my skin and push me to breaking point.

Her lips curled up. They were soft and full, and looked even fuller with her dark lipstick. “I got some knew ink,” she said.

My gut tightened. “Yeah?” I swallowed, hard. Ruby had creamy, smooth, pale skin, and she liked to decorate it. The ink she chose was always colorful, feminine. I’d imagined tracing every tattoo with my tongue . . . a lot. I had a vivid memory of when she got her first one. I’d taken her to my guy, my present for her sixteenth birthday. I hadn’t wanted her to do it, but I knew if I didn’t take her, she’d just go and get it done behind my back. At least I knew she was going to someone I trusted. I’d watched while the guy inked the Superman logo on her hip. I’d questioned her choice and she’d looked up at me and smiled.

This is you. You’re my Superman. Now you’ll always be with me.

I slammed the shutters down on the memory. I did not need to be thinking about that night, what happened after, how everything between us went to shit. But it had been getting harder lately. Especially after the hell Hunter had gone through with his woman and kid a few months ago. Since Lulu had been kidnapped, almost raped, I’d been struggling with this thing between Ruby and I. Found my mind going back there, to that time, more than I wanted.

Ruby moved from out from behind her desk, expression too goddamn innocent. “You want to see it?”

My dick jumped behind my zipper, and my mouth felt glued shut. I needed to tell her no, or at least shake my head and walk away. Instead, I just stood there, trying to work out where it was, what it was.

Resting her pert little ass against her desk, she reached down, and pinching the bottom of her dress between her fingers, started to inch it higher. With the glasses she wore, she looked like a sexy schoolteacher. Ruby had her own style, her own unique look, and it suited the hell out of her.

My mouth went dry as she revealed inch after inch of creamy, bare thigh. Move. Get the fuck out of there. But my goddamn feet stayed glued to the carpet. It was on the same side she’d gotten the Superman symbol, and suddenly I was desperate to see it again. The last time I’d seen it, she’d been on the table getting it done.

But her dress stopped high on her thigh and the strength of my disappointment at not seeing it again made no sense.

“What do you think?” she asked.