Dignity (The Breaking Point Book 2) Page 2

  “What are you doing here, Noe Lee?” I couldn’t stop the little shiver of delight that worked down my spine when he remembered my name and said it right. Not that N-O was all that hard to remember. I liked the way he strung my first and last name together so that it sounded like Noley. When we first met, he thought I was a boy. It was a ruse I often used to keep unwanted attention off myself. He was obviously annoyed that I’d been able to fool him. He was supposed to be too smart to be tricked by a street rat. There was no way he could make that mistake today. My black and red hair hung in a shiny sheet, arrow straight where it brushed my jaw. My bangs were long enough that they touched my eyebrows and also hung pin-straight across my forehead. I even scrounged up some lip gloss for this little charade and put on a v-neck shirt that showed a hint of cleavage. I hated it. I usually went out of my way to make sure no one knew I had boobs. I was way outside of my comfort zone, but I would do what I had to do in order to survive.

  “You already took everything that wasn’t nailed down the first time you paid me a visit. Don’t have anything left for you to steal.” His voice was a deep rumble that matched his fearsome appearance. No high-pitched, nerdy whine for Snowden Stark. Again, he was annoyed. This time because I’d managed to breach his supposedly secure fortress. I guessed he wasn’t the type to forgive and forget.

  I cleared my throat and twisted my hands together in front of me. I hated being intimidated, but he effortlessly towered over me so there was no getting away from it. I was on the short side as it was, so even regular-sized men tended to come across as looming and overbearing. Stark was anything but regular, so I was feeling slightly unsettled and anxious even though he wasn’t doing anything.

  I figured that even though he was still pissed I’d ripped him off, he wasn’t missing any of his gadgets and toys. I knew for a fact that the guy was a tech-junkie. There was no way in hell he hadn’t gone out and replaced his stash the second he knew it was gone. He couldn’t survive being unplugged. He was all man, but very much dependent on machines. They were almost an extension of who he was. It was obvious in the cold, calculating way he dealt with people. There were no unnecessary or needless pleasantries. There was no warmth and compassion. Stark was not a guy who oozed sympathy or even basic human understanding. He wasn’t a guy who had patience or any kind of practiced civility about him. Humans were flawed and defective. Computers weren’t. They did what you told them to do and reacted in predictable, expected ways. Computers didn’t break into your house and steal all your stuff. Computers didn’t irritate you and disrupt your precise and orderly life. Computers didn’t expect anything from you. I got the feeling that was exactly why this man surrounded himself with them instead of a bevy of beautiful women and throngs of impressed hangers-on. He could easily be ruler of the intellectually elite, but instead, he lived like a hermit and rubbed elbows with crime lords. It might be off-putting to anyone else, but since I tended to lean toward cold and calculating myself, I appreciated his lack of normal social graces. It meant I didn’t have to force myself to play nice with him.

  He was all legend and myth. No one knew what the real Snowden Stark was like or what he was about, but I’d gotten a glimpse when he dragged me to meet the Devil. He was furious that I’d disrupted his routine and touched his stuff. He was livid, even, but he never hurt me. He never used force or threats. His anger simply popped and snapped like an electrical current between us. Cold fury. Like being in the middle of a blizzard with no protection and nowhere to hide.

  No one and nothing in the Point operated that way.

  We all put ourselves first. We all focused on what was best for us and what would ensure that we stayed breathing a few more days before we considered anything or anyone else. It’s how you had to think and react if you wanted to keep your head above water in this place.

  Not Stark.

  He got exactly what he wanted, obtained what his terrifying employer needed, and he did it all without hurting or threatening me in the slightest. He didn’t push. He didn’t shove. He didn’t use the fact he was bigger than me as a threat. My first impression stuck. He was impressive . . . I was impressed . . . and it had nothing to do with his muscles or his harshly hewn face with its unreadable, blue-gray eyes.

  I took a breath and told myself to get it over with. The worst he could do was tell me no, and if he did, well, then I would be back to trying to figure it all out on my own, which was nothing new.

  “I’m in trouble and I need your help.” My voice shook and I loathed the little tremor of sound that betrayed just how scared and desperate I was.

  One of his dark brows arched over the top of his Buddy Holly-style glasses. The line of his mouth grew harder and turned down so that he was frowning at me instead of scowling. He uncrossed his beefy arms and lifted one above his head to lean against the door jamb. That was a lot of muscle and tattooed skin stretched out in front of me. I would have appreciated the view if it weren’t a clear signal that he was not inviting me into his space anytime soon. I’d worn out my welcome when I stole from him, and as much as I wanted to be irritated by his reluctance to let me in, I couldn’t be. I’d been betrayed more than once, which is why I set out to live my life on my own terms, and I never forgave or forgot those who had wronged me. I could hold a grudge like a mother . . . and it appeared Stark was the same way.

  “What kind of trouble? Did you get caught stealing from someone bigger and meaner than me?” No concern. No curiosity. He asked like he would ask about the weather or the time.

  I unlocked my fingers from their death grip and slid my hands into the front pockets of my cargo pants so he wouldn’t notice my fingers digging into my palms. “No, I helped someone disappear.”

  That was what I did.

  If you could find me, if you knew what rocks to turn over and which alleyways to slink through in order to ask for my help, I could turn you into a brand-new person. If you wanted to be older or younger, I could help you out with that. If you wanted to be someone who had a clean criminal history so you could get a job, I could fix that for you. If you were on the run from someone with heavy fists and a nasty temper, I made sure you were impossible to find.

  And, if you were a scared teenager knocked up with your stepdaddy’s baby because the man was a predator and a pervert, well, then I would do my best to make sure no one knew who or where you were until you decided what to do about your situation. I would make sure you were safe, even when your stepdad was the mayor of the City: the place where both the Point and the Hill were located. It had never been a secret that the man was as immoral and unethical as the shot callers who ran all the illegal activities that happened in the dark under his less-than-watchful eye. As it turned out, no one really knew what kind of monster he was behind the closed doors of his home.

  When Julia Grace found me, I wanted to turn her away. I liked money and she had a lot of it, but I knew helping her would come with more risk than I typically like to take on. But there was no way I could send the poor girl back to that man once she told me the things he made her do, the things he did to her, that made my stomach crawl. No one should have to suffer like that and no one should be forced to bring a child into a situation like that. She didn’t know if she was keeping the baby or if she was going to carry it to term and give it up for adoption. She was nothing more than a confused little girl trying to work her way through problems that were too big and too life-changing for someone her age to face. I helped her, made her disappear, hid her away where no one would ever think to look . . . and now I was paying the price for it.

  Her powerful and paranoid stepfather wanted her back and his dirty secrets buried. He would stop at nothing until he achieved both.

  Stark lifted his other eyebrow and raised a finger to push at his glasses as the motion made them slip down the bridge of his nose. “You’re good at making valuable things vanish, so I’m unsure why you are standing at my front door.”

  Shit. There was detachment and ice wrapped around
every syllable. I swallowed and looked down at the ground. It was time to appeal to that rumored streak of righteousness I’d heard so much about. “Stark, the Mayor has been molesting his underage stepdaughter. For years. She found me. I don’t know how, but she did. She begged me to get her out of the city and as far away from the Hill as she could go. She cried and told me all the things that monster did to her. He knocked her up. She’s just a baby, herself. There was so much wrong with all of it, I had to do what I could to make it right.” I lifted my head and stabbed my fingernails even deeper into my palms so I wouldn’t cry. I refused to show that kind of weakness in front of him. In front of anyone. “He’s been looking for me. He has resources and reach that I can’t outrun. I’m out of places to hide.”

  He cocked his head to the side and silently considered me for an annoyingly long moment. When he spoke, his voice still lacked any kind of real emotion or investment. “Why haven’t you done for yourself what you do for everyone else? You could be in the wind, gone, and no one would be able to track you down, not even Jonathan Goddard.” It was a shock to hear him call the bastard Mayor by his given name. I’d taken to thinking of his title as more of a supervillain name, like the Joker, or the Riddler . . . he was the Mayor.

  Frustrated, I blew out a breath and tugged on my multi-colored hair. I was used to having it tucked under a beanie or hidden under a ball cap, so the loose strands bugged me. I had to remember how to be a girl half the time. “You’re right. I can go. I could have a new identity, a new name, and place to call home in under five minutes. But why should he be allowed to get away with what he did to Julia? Why should he have the opportunity to do that to any other girl who’s too young and too scared to fight back? Someone needs to stop him. I need to stop him . . . but I can’t do it on my own.” I really couldn’t. The man had too many people on his payroll, too many dirty cops who wouldn’t hesitate to hurt me. I’d spent so many years telling myself I wasn’t scared anymore, that I was the one in control. I hated that it was all slipping away, and once again, I felt trapped. It would have been so easy to send an email blast to the media with the accusations, but with Julia in hiding, there was no proof. I wanted to protect her almost as much as I wanted to stop the Mayor in his tracks. “I need you to help me.”

  He was shaking his dark head before I even finished speaking. The tattoos on the sides of his neck flexed as he clenched his jaw, sending a muscle in his cheek twitching. “I learned a long time ago not to pick fights I can’t win.”

  I snorted and then slapped a hand over my face to muffle the sound. He watched me as I cleared my throat. I couldn’t stop an eye roll when I muttered drily, “I’m having a hard time picturing any fight you can’t win, Stark.” He was too big, too smart, too shrewd, and too controlled not to come out on top time and time again. He didn’t strike me as a guy who ever lost at anything.

  He shook his head again and pushed off the frame, one hand reaching out to grab the edge of the door like he was ready to close it in my face. “I don’t mess with people who have their hands in politics, Noe. It’s a bad idea. They have too much to lose and know how to keep their secrets buried deep. They play by a different set of rules and they don’t share the playbook. They have an army of very rich, very entitled people at their disposal who have too much to lose when they fail. They leave graves all over the place, and they might be just as good as you are at making people disappear. I was dumped in one of their holes when I was stupider and younger. There was no climbing out of it no matter how hard I tried. I barely made it out with my sanity intact, and I have no intention of ever going back. You might as well pack a bag and hit the road before he really gets desperate to find you.”

  I knew he had things in his past that built up the enigma of who he was, but I had no idea that they still scared him. He didn’t seem like the type of man who was afraid of anything.

  “I can’t let this go. I’m so sick of guys like Goddard thinking they can do whatever they want with no repercussions. Everyone should be held accountable for the bad things they do.”

  “When you have money and influence, there’s no need for accountability.” He sounded like he knew that from first-hand experience. I gasped as he fell back a step and started to close the door.

  “Wait!” I shoved my battered boot into the swinging door and slapped a hand on the surface as it inched closer to shutting out my last hope and lingering resolve. “That’s it? You’re really going to ignore everything I just told you? You’re going to throw me to the wolves and let a guy like Goddard get away with doing despicable things?” I couldn’t believe it. That’s not who he was rumored to be. He was supposed to fight for the little guy. He was supposed to believe in justice and fairness.

  He was a lie.

  He frowned at me and looked pointedly at my hand on the door and my foot bracing it open. “I don’t have a dog in this fight, Noe, and I know you’re smart enough to know exactly what you were getting into when you helped that girl ghost out of town. You knew the risk and you took it anyway. You’re a smart girl who made a very dumb choice.”

  Of course I did. I was a fucking human being and not a machine like he apparently was. I had a heart. It was a used one, one that didn’t run right half the time, one I had to wind up every single day if I wanted to feel any damn thing, but it was there. Tiny but beating furiously. His seemed to have been replaced by circuit boards and wires somewhere along the way.

  I fell back a step and threw my hands up in aggravation. “You’re unbelievable, and not in the way I was hoping you were.” I was no longer impressed . . . I was devastated.

  He nodded in agreement, mouth dipped low in a fierce frown. “It’s good not to have expectations. When you do, you’re bound to be disappointed. Keep your head down, Noe. Buy a bus ticket and put the Point in your rearview. You can start over somewhere else. You can get off the streets and do something useful with that big, sexy brain of yours.”

  I wanted to tell him to take his advice and stick it so far up his ass he choked on it. I came here for help, not for a lecture on all the ways I’d gone wrong in my life. I was very aware of just how badly I had screwed up, but before I could say anything else, the door was unceremoniously shut in my face. It was a definitive ‘go-away’ and I couldn’t have been more disappointed if I tried. I felt like he sucked all the optimism and confidence out of me, leaving me deflated and empty.

  Swearing, I kicked the closed door, taking immense satisfaction in the greasy, black streaks that my boot left on the white surface. I thumped a balled-up fist on the hardwood as well and swallowed hard so the threat of tears wouldn’t spill over. I hated feeling defeated. I was a survivor. I was a fighter and a master at making any situation work for me. Over the years, I’d had no choice. In this moment, his closed door mocking me, I hated that not only did I no longer have the upper hand, but that I was barely holding on as things were spiraling quickly out of control around me.

  Sucking in a breath, I pushed my bangs back from my face and gave myself a mental shake. So, I’d struck out with Stark. I knew there was no guarantee he was going to help me out, but that didn’t mean I was willing to walk away from this fatal game of hide and seek I’d started. The Mayor didn’t get to sit in his mansion and chase little girls while his corrupt city burned. Someone had to hold him accountable, and even though this situation sucked and was scary as hell, that someone was going to be me.

  I quickly walked back down the front steps of the townhouse, pulling my beanie out of my pocket and slapping it back on my head as I went. I tucked all my hair up in the cap and stopped at the line of decorative hedges that dotted the front of the property so I could pick up my backpack from where I stashed it. Everything I owned was in that camo knapsack, and I felt naked without it. I also paused long enough to pull on a hoodie that was two sizes too big and covered me almost to my knees. No more minimal cleavage on display and no more pretending that my limited feminine wiles would get me anywhere with the moody, distant, compute
r genius. His heart was missing, and in its place was a processor that did nothing more than calculate and compute.

  Sighing and lost in thought, I wasn’t being as careful as I should have been as I walked across manicured lawns and cut across driveways full of expensive cars. I wasn’t blending in or sticking to the shadows like normal because I was in such a hurry to leave Stark, and my disappointment in him, behind.

  I was almost out of the subdivision, almost back to the main road that led into the Point, when I heard sirens and realized the blue and red flashing lights were for me. I was so close to the road—near plenty of gullies and ditches to slither through. The road that was relatively safe. I was so close to getting away. I’d never been a fan of law and order, but now that there was a price on my head, I’d done my best to avoid any kind of law enforcement or people in uniform. Too many were in the Mayor’s back pocket. I’d let desperation cloud my judgment. I should have known the police would be present in a nice neighborhood like this. It was their job to keep out people like me.

  I contemplated dropping my backpack and making a run for it, but the cop car was too close and I didn’t, for one second, doubt that whomever was driving would put a bullet in me to slow me down.

  Swearing, I slowed and lifted my hands to face the burly, mean-looking cop. He climbed out of the car, one hand on the grip of his gun, the other on his phone. I had a sinking suspicion every cop in the city had my picture and a basic description of me. They were all looking, and like a dumb ass, I put myself right in their line of sight.