Dignity Read online

  Dignity

  Copyright © 2017 by Jennifer M. Voorhees.

  This is a work of fiction. Names, characters, places, and incidents are products of the author’s imagination or are used fictitiously and are not to be construed as real. Any resemblance to actual events, locales, organizations, or persons, living or dead, is entirely coincidental.

  All rights reserved. Printed in the United States of America. No part of this book may be used or reproduced in any manner whatsoever without written permission except in the case of brief quotations embodied in critical articles and reviews. For copyright information address: Jay Crownover LLC 1670 E. Cheyenne Mnt. Blvd. Box# 152, Colorado Springs, Colorado 80906.

  Congress Cataloging—in—Publication Data has been applied for.

  Pretty much the bottom line is don’t be the guy who ruins something cool for everyone else by being the asshole who takes words that don’t belong to you and profiting off them. Don’t be that guy . . . no one likes that guy. I will sue the hell out of that guy!

  These are the talented folks who helped bring my book to life:

  Cover design by:

  Hang Le / www.byhangle.com

  Copyrights for cover images:

  Stockphoto Source: Getty Images Credit: quavondo Creative #: 492630396

  Source: Shutterstock Credit: MILA Zed Creative #: 485161804

  Interior Design & Formatting by:

  Christine Borgford / www.typeAformatting.com

  Editing by:

  Elaine York, Allusion Graphics, LLC/Publishing & Book Formatting / www.allusiongraphics.com

  Proofreading & Copyediting by:

  Beth Salminen / [email protected]

  GETAWAY SERIES

  Shelter (coming this December)

  Retreat

  THE SAINTS OF DENVER SERIES

  Salvaged

  Riveted

  Charged

  Built

  Leveled (novella)

  THE BREAKING POINT SERIES

  Dignity

  Avenged (crossover novella)

  Honor

  THE WELCOME TO THE POINT SERIES

  Better When He’s Brave

  Better When He’s Bold

  Better When He’s Bad

  THE MARKED MEN SERIES

  Asa

  Rowdy

  Nash

  Rome

  Jet

  Rule

  Contents

  DIGNITY

  Also by Jay Crownover

  Dedication

  Intro

  Chapter 1

  Chapter 2

  Chapter 3

  Chapter 4

  Chapter 5

  Chapter 6

  Chapter 7

  Chapter 8

  Chapter 9

  Chapter 10

  Chapter 11

  Chapter 12

  Chapter 13

  Chapter 14

  Chapter 15

  Chapter 16

  Chapter 17

  Chapter 18

  Chapter 19

  Chapter 20

  Epilogue

  Author’s Note

  Acknowledgements

  Dedicated to those of us who think a big brain is just as sexy as a big, thick, fat . . . wallet. :D

  Also, dedicated to my fellow four-eyes out there. Glasses are hot. I know I look damn cute in mine, and I’m sure you look adorable in yours. Here’s to finding the right person to fog them up. <3

  I always say you can learn a lot about what’s going on in the world and pop culture at the time I’m writing each specific book. Whatever I’m currently focused on or obsessing over always seems to find its way between the pages.

  I wrote Dignity over February, March, and April of this year . . . so, right after the election. Everything felt like it was in turmoil and unsettled. There was a lot of anger and uncertainty everywhere I turned. It was impossible to escape, no matter what side of the political fence you fall.

  When it was time to head back to the Point for Stark’s book, a lot of that unrest came with me. The idea that so many people were questioning the government, the choices being made, the shift in our world paradigm, again, applies to both sides. There was no shaking the idea that maybe, just maybe, the people we trust to have our best interests in mind, the ones we put in charge of speaking for us, might not be representing us in the way we want them to. In the Point, the bad guys have always done good things when it suited them, so it only made sense that the good guys do bad when it benefits them. I wanted the good guys to be the worst bad guys the Point has ever seen. It makes sense in its own twisted way.

  This is my disclaimer. I DO NOT think all politicians are corrupt. I DO NOT think that all—or even very many—police officers are dirty. (Though, here in the Springs, we recently had a sheriff who was filthy as hell! He was legit run out of town.) I DO NOT believe, at all, that our military forces and the people in charge of them have any other agenda than keeping our country safe! I appreciate their service. This is fiction . . . and I mean FICTION! This isn’t even a real place I’m writing about. I take liberties and make things as bad as they can be . . . so I can turn around and make them better. It’s supposed to be an escape, a story that is larger than life, nothing more, nothing less! Also, digital hitmen are a real thing and a death certificate really can screw your entire life up. It’s a new form of identity theft that I found super interesting when I was researching hackers and what happens down in the deepest, darkest parts of the interwebs.

  During this time, I also ended up on a superhero kick. I mean, don’t we all want someone larger than life who has perfect timing and can swoop in and save the day? That means, unbeknownst to me, I somehow turned Snowden Stark into a cross between Elliot from Mr. Robot and Luke Cage . . . lol. An incredibly broken genius . . . someone who seems bulletproof and stronger than anyone can imagine. He comes with a tragic history, befitting of the Point and the men he calls his friends. He’s the quiet guy, the thinker, and fitting him into this savage, cruel world was tricky. There had to be a reason he fit in with the likes of Nassir and Booker, I just wasn’t sure what it was, until he decided to tell his story. It’s a little outlandish, exaggerated, and unbelievable . . . but hey . . . all superheroes start off that way. Even the superheroes who have a hard time being heroic: Jessica Jones, Tony Stark, Wolverine, and Deadpool. I like the idea that they have something that makes them special, something that sets them apart, but it is ultimately up to them to choose to use those powers for good or evil and to decide if what makes them special is a blessing or a curse. My Stark was absolutely influenced by Iron Man and I have zero regrets about it.

  A funny little side note: Huck from Scandal is apparently also an accurate character inspiration. I’ve never seen Scandal . . . I don’t watch any of the Shondaland-produced shows, but when I was telling Cora Carmack about this crazy plotline and my idea for a tortured computer genius with ties to a shady government agency, she told me I was writing Huck. After watching a few episodes of Scandal (she made me when I told her I had no clue what she was talking about), I have to agree that I see the similarities, but it was totally unintentional . . . lol. Still not a fan of the show, but I did love Huck’s character. So, if you see some of him in Stark, you aren’t wrong. :D

  Not gonna lie: writing not just one, but two characters who are way smarter than you is challenging, but at the end of the day, it’s always about what we have in common, not what makes us different. These two struggle with their choices and their pasts, just like I do . . . and I would bet, just like you do. And for being smart as hell, it sure takes them a long-ass time to figure their shit out!

  Welcome back to the Point, my friends. I sure hope you love Boy Genius. Smart is so sexy!

  xoxo

  Love and Ink,


  Jay

  If the world seems cold to you, kindle fires to warm it.

  ~ Lucy Larcom

  Noe

  I was going to do something I swore to myself I would never, ever do again in my life . . . ask for help.

  I’d learned early in life that the only person I could rely on, the only person who would never let me down or disappoint me, was me. No one else had my best interests or wellbeing in mind. I was the only one who cared if I made it through each day and into the next. I didn’t need anyone. I’d been doing all right on my own while surviving some pretty shitty circumstances for a long time. I watched my own back and called all my own shots. That was the way I liked it, the way I needed it to be. But right now, I was scared. Terrified really. I was also smart enough to know that I was in way over my head.

  I needed help and there was only one person I felt comfortable enough asking to yank me out of the murky, dangerous mess I’d waded into.

  It didn’t make sense because we’d only met once. Oddly enough, in that brief encounter, he had called me a thief and a bitch. He wasn’t going to be happy to see me. In fact, there was no guarantee that he was going to agree to get me out of the bind that had me so wound up that I couldn’t even move, but I had to ask. I needed someone on my side, someone else needed to know what was going on. In this moment, my mind was telling me that someone was him.

  I was afraid to show my face. Afraid to come out of hiding. Afraid of every dark corner and every shadow that lurked in the back alleys I called home. I was afraid that I’d finally gone too far, something I never really thought was possible before now. People were looking for me, and while I was notoriously hard to find, they seemed to have eyes everywhere and enough money to pay people to look in the places I normally hid. I was no longer invisible. No longer overlooked and dismissed like most homeless and displaced people were. The streets were never safe, but now, day in and day out, I was actively being hunted. There was a price on my head and everyone in the Point was looking for a payday.

  The last time I’d been at this fancy townhouse complex on the outskirts of the Point, I’d been using a lock picking set to jimmy the front door open so I could rob a guy blind. He had come looking for me, and I didn’t like it when people I didn’t know tried to find me. Especially guys like him. I really didn’t like it when people had money, drove nice cars, had obvious free time to blow at the gym, and were as good with computers and tech as me. Everything about him rubbed me the wrong way, and when I heard he was trying to find me, I wanted to make sure he never made that mistake again. I didn’t want to be anywhere on his radar even though he was a huge, gigantic blip on mine. He pinged and beeped alerts all over the place long before he dragged me down to the Lock and Key to meet with his enigmatic boss.

  I’d never had the opportunity to meet Snowden Stark before he came looking for me, but I knew all about him. Everyone in the digital underground did, and not because he was tied into some shady business dealings with Race Hartman and Nassir Gates, the undisputed golden king and dark knight of the Point. The two of them ruled this broken kingdom and it was no secret that Stark was their tech wizard. He was the one who made magic happen. Even before he sold his soul to the highest bidder, he’d been into some questionable practices behind his keyboard. It was rumored that he was the one who had hacked the state’s police database and sent the names, addresses, and mug shots of each and every possible sex offender to all the parents in the Point. Not the registered, supposedly rehabilitated pedophiles, but the ones who had gotten away with their crimes. The ones who hadn’t managed to get caught yet.

  The watch list was long and terrifying. The list made its ways through schools and was talked about for weeks on the news. People were torn between fury at the invasion of privacy, since the names on the list belonged to people never convicted, and relief that the bad guys had names and faces before they could offend, or offend again. It was always trial by fire in the Point and nobody was really innocent until proven guilty. They were always guilty, and most of the time, they didn’t get caught. There was little the police could do without solid proof and witnesses. Stark didn’t operate that way. No one seemed too concerned when the people on that list started dropping like flies. Vigilante justice was nothing new in the Point. In fact, it was often the only kind of justice this place saw. Sure, some of the people with their name on Stark’s hit list left town and disappeared on their own, but it was common knowledge that most of them were run out of town by Nassir, and those who didn’t want to go disappeared another way. A more permanent and bloody way that involved shallow graves dug under the moonlight.

  My favorite Stark story floating around was the one where he’d grounded an entire fleet of aircraft when his airline lost his luggage and proved less than helpful when it came to locating it. He jacked their entire system for two days, only relenting when his bags showed up in pristine condition. Of course, no one could ever prove it was him, but Twitter and the dark corner of the web—the figurative watercooler for hackers—were flooded with speculation. Everyone was impressed by him, and a little scared. Even the guys who made the Darknet . . . well . . . dark.

  When he was a teenager, he supposedly hacked the un-hackable Department of Defense, just to prove he could. I heard he ended up in a federal prison for a year or so for that little act of defiance, but no one could actually verify it because he’d disappeared and any records that might have proved it ceased to exist. Years later, when he came back to the Point, the rumors about his time away and illegal acts were less outrageous, but no less persistent.

  He hacked his college’s sexual assault complaint database and released the names of all the attackers who were never brought to justice. Everyone who had been named over the years, but had been excused or had their stories swept under the rug by both the school and law enforcement, was put on blast. Their faces were plastered on digital billboards and scrolled across the bottom of the news ticker bar. Their crimes spelled out in excruciating detail for the entire Point to see. It was another digital hit list, and once again, the eyes of Lady Justice remained blindfolded when the people behind the names started disappearing and turning up in the county morgues.

  It was clear Stark didn’t like it when justice was overlooked and he didn’t mind a challenge. He had contacts on the Darknet, and some were digital versions of the men who ran the Point. Through cyberspace, they sold humans, sex, drugs, guns, murder . . . anything illegal and unsavory. Stark didn’t approve of some of the more chilling reasons people trolled the dark recesses of the Internet so he went out of his way to shut them down. Chat rooms dedicated to child pornography and pedophilia were annihilated and sites dedicated to human trafficking were mercilessly shut down. He was a one man wrecking ball and no one tried to stop him.

  I was hoping both of those things would work in my favor as I prepared to beg and plead with him to pull my ass out of the proverbial fire.

  I knocked on his door this time . . . like a normal person.

  I shifted uneasily in my well-worn combat boots and ran my sweaty palms down the front of my freshly washed cargo pants. I made an effort to clean up before coming to see him. I didn’t want to show up unwashed and filthy, like I normally was. I needed him to take me seriously, and I figured if he were distracted by my smell and ratty hair, it would be counterintuitive to my endgame. Since I slept on the streets and in shelters most of the time, it paid off to be gross and unapproachable, but Stark didn’t live wild like I did. In fact, aside from his dealings with Race and Nassir, he didn’t have much to do with the Point. His only connection to this place was his longstanding friendship with Race. They went to high school together before Stark was taken away by men in dark suits with serious expressions. He seemed insulated from the violence and vitriol that came out of the place I called home. From what I knew, he kept his heavily tattooed hands clean of actual blood, just dabbling in digital carnage and warfare. I had no idea if he really knew what it was like out there in the real
world, but I needed him to get a clue real quick. I needed him to understand that messing with someone’s life online had very real consequences. I still had no idea how my identity had been leaked to the guys looking for me, but they knew exactly who I was, and I knew what they could do with that knowledge. That’s why I was scared, standing on his doorstep, shaking, and willing to do whatever it took to guarantee his help.

  I was lifting my hand to knock again when the door was suddenly flung open. Of course he knew I was there. When I broke in weeks ago, I’d had to bypass a security system that rivaled the NSA’s. He had cameras everywhere. He saw everything and everyone that was trying to get close. It wasn’t a simple case of breaking and entering; I’d had to work my way inside the labyrinth and was lucky I made it out in one piece.

  I let out a yelp as my momentum pitched me forward, hands landing against rock-hard muscle as I braced myself against his chest. It was easy to forget how big he was. Massive all around. Tall, strong, and covered from his neck down in colorful, bold tattoos. His dark hair was cut short, showing off the multiple silver and diamond studs that dotted his ears and the tiny scar that curved across his temple, which left a startling straight line of white on his scalp. He had what looked like a barcode of some kind inked behind his ear and I wanted to ask him what it meant.

  He didn’t look like any kind of geek—computer or otherwise. He looked like a brawler, a leg breaker, a leviathan. He looked like a beast, except for those dark, thick-framed glasses that sat over his slate-colored eyes. They were undoubtedly out of place with his fierce expression and intimidating appearance. They didn’t belong with the nearly shaved head and the tattoos. His eyes were narrowed at me under lowered brows. His mouth was in a hard, flat line as he grabbed my upper arms and purposely set me away from him. His hands were rough, calloused, and abrasive, but his hold was gentle. He crossed those massive arms over his broad chest once I had my balance, muscles popping and flexing with the smallest movement. It was annoying that he was so impressive to look at. I already had a semi-crush on him for his magnificent brain and the lure of his rumored sense of honor. I liked that he wanted to right wrongs, that he looked out for those who were constantly overlooked. It wasn’t fair that he was ridiculously hot on top of being the smartest guy I had ever encountered, willingly or not. I didn’t want to like him, and I really, really didn’t want to need him.