Page 2 of Tell Me No
“Don’t apologize, Rory. Austin needs to take a fucking hint. Trust me, you didn’t hurt his delicate ego,” she scoffs.
“I don't know what to do, Ness. I’m so tired of feeling like this, like I'm trapped in this life that isn’t what I planned or even what I want.” My eyes burn with unshed tears and I blink them away.
“I know you are, babe. But this is a temporary situation. It’s a bad season, no matter how long it lasts. It’s not a bad life,” she says, her constant optimism shining through. She reaches a hand down to help me up and I take it.
Vanessa and I became fast friends, bonding over our shared love of sarcasm, caffeine, and 90s R&B. I’m always happy to see her smiling face in the morning, as if I can absorb some of her positivity just from being near her.
She pulls me in for a tight hug and I smile. “Thanks, Ness. Sorry for leaving you hanging.”
“It’s okay. Everyone pretty much cleared out after you went postal. There is a certain reclusive man at the counter, though. I figured maybe you want to take his order,” she says, laughing and blowing me a kiss as she walks back out to the front.
I don’t know why Breaker comes here every morning. I’ve seen his kitchen. The equipment he has could make a far better cup of coffee than anything we can make here. But still, every day at 8am he stands at the counter reading the menu board. I’m not sure what he’s looking for. It hasn’t changed since this shop opened over a decade ago.
I make his chai tea latte before I even greet him, knowing he orders the same thing every day. Chai tea latte, almond milk, cinnamon scone. It’s such an odd order for such a masculine man. I’ve learned over the past few months that he has an allergy to dairy and a love for the cinnamon scones from the bakery next door. Greta, the seventy-year-old baker, has a long list of food allergies she caters to and the coffee shop carries them all.
“Aurora,” he says, the smooth, dark velvet of his voice washing over me like a warm blanket. I hate people using my full name. But when he says it, my body heats uncontrollably. The parts of me I thought were broken permanently come alive whenever I'm near him.
“Jason,” I reply, knowing he has an equally uncomfortable reaction to anyone using his real name. I understand why they call him Breaker. I just think it’s so stupid, especially when his name is so fitting. Jason. Like Jason Voorhees. He’s as creepy and dangerous as a masked murder, for sure.
His shoulders visibly tense as he lays the exact amount needed for his order on the counter in front of me. I pull his scone out of the toaster and wrap it up, sliding it across the counter towards him. Our fingers brush when he takes it from my hands and his eyes snap to mine instantly. I pull away quickly, like someone dripped acid across my fingertips. I wouldn’t go so far as to call my feelings for him an unrequited attraction. More of a mutual annoyance because we both know there are feelings there, but neither of us will act on them. It doesn’t matter though. I have too many secrets to keep to risk bringing anyone into my life, even if I wanted to.
“Hey, Rory?” I hear someone call my name and I finally look away from Breaker’s stormy gaze. Austin stands behind him, looking very uncomfortable and anxious. Breaker glances over his shoulder, shooting a scornful look at the man who dared to interrupt our conversation, if that’s what you could even call it. “Um… sorry to interrupt. I just wanted to apologize.”
“Apologize for what?” Breaker asks, standing to his full height and inching his way between Austin and I. I roll my eyes at his alpha tendencies. I don’t know when I ever gave him the impression I'm some delicate little flower he needs to defend, but it annoys me.
“It’s okay, Austin. Really, I shouldn’t have blown up at you like that,” I reply, ignoring Breaker completely.
“Maybe not, but you’re right. I shouldn’t have pushed.” Austin’s eyes bounce back and forth between Breaker and I. He shuffles from side to side, obviously uncomfortable. This whole situation is bizarre, honestly.
“It’s okay. Really,” I say, giving Austin a small smile. “I’ll see you tomorrow, right?”
Breaker cocks an eyebrow at me, as if he's annoyed I'm continuing a conversation with Austin. I don’t belong to him, so he has no right to any insight into my life.
“Yeah, see ya.” Austin gives me a hesitant wave and turns to leave the coffee shop.
“Friend of yours?” Breaker questions.
“I guess you could say that.” I know I’m winding him up, giving him the tiniest amount of information and letting his mind run wild. There’s absolutely nothing going on between me and Austin, or any other man. But I do love to toy with this grizzly bear of a man. The ability to throw him off his axis is something I've mastered lately.
“Hm,” he grumbles. Turning on his heel, and walking out the front door. That man is so hot and cold, I never know where I stand with him. Sometimes, I feel certain that he wants me. But then he flips the switch and avoids me like the fucking plague.
I wish I could talk to my friends about this. Ember and Kelsea are amazing, truly ride or die level besties. But I know they’re biased when it comes to me and Breaker. They both want to see something more between him and I so badly, even though I'm not sure there’s really anything there to see.
He's shown me moments, just brief flashes, of the tenderest care I've ever felt in my life. More than once, he's made his jealousy blatantly obvious when anyone else shows interest in me. Hell, he even got into a bar fight with some preppy asshole over me! But the words he said to me that night still play on repeat in my mind.
All I intended on doing that night was thanking him for coming to help me when I needed it most. When I walked up to him, I felt the anger pouring off him, his eyes fixed and cold. I knew he was totally uncomfortable with the amount of emotion he had shown. The last thing I wanted to do was make it worse. But when I reached out to touch him, just the slightest brush of my hand against his, he stopped me. His voice was clipped and distant as he leveled me with the most intense stare I’d ever experienced and told me those words I’ll never forget.
Why does it have to be you?
two
My back achesfrom sitting in the same position for the past two hours. I’m more comfortable behind the screen of my computers, but since I left the Marine Corps, taking jobs like this one is the only thing that keeps my demons caged.
Hitman. Mercenary. Vigilante. There are so many words for the kind of work that I do. I prefer to think my job as a cleansing. Washing humanity clean of the lowest forms of human life that walk this earth. When I left the Corps, I spiraled. My life had no direction. The skills I honed over years and years of tracking down war criminals needed an outlet. So I channeled them in a different direction. Now, nearly three years later, I’ve built a massive network of connections between myself and people all over the world who need someone like me. Someone with no conscience, who has no problem killing without remorse. At least everyone I’ve killed deserved what they got. I made a promise to myself when I started this that I wouldn’t kill without restraint. If I let that side of me free, I’d never come back. I only take contracts on people who deserve killing. Like the fucker between my crosshairs right now.
Alonzo Figueroa. The fucking scum of the earth. I’ve seen a lot of demented shit in my line of work. This demon is a low level member of the cartel in this area. Only he’s decided to go out on his own. I wonder how much of his extra-curricular business his bosses know about.
I took a contract from a guy whose sister disappeared 3 years ago from a border town in Texas. Finding her was his primary goal, punishing the people responsible was a close second. The local police chalked it up to human trafficking and wrote her off as a lost cause. But my client never stopped looking for her. I know I’d have done the same if it was my sister, or someone else I loved just as much. In all of my searching, I managed to uncover Figueroa’s operation. Sure, human trafficking was definitely the case. Only not all of the women who were taken made it into the trafficking scene. The deeper I dug, the clearer it became. Figueroa is a serial killer working behind the protection of the cartel. He picks and chooses which girls he wants before delivering the rest to his bosses. The torture those women face at his hands is unimaginable. The photos and videos I’ve found on the dark web were enough to make even me feel queasy. Most of them begged for death by the time he was done with them.
