Damaged: The Dillon Sisters by Layla Frost (good story books to read .txt) 📕

me down since she was heading to spend her Saturday night with Brand. She didn’t say as much, but I got the feeling she spent all her nights with him.

Alexander was overseeing the installation of something or another at a, and I quote, ‘hipster startup’ in Seattle. He wouldn’t be back until after dinner, so I’d be spending a wild evening at home. Alone.

Crazy how what once had been my perfect night lost its luster when I knew I could have Alexander’s cooking and company.

And a third thing that started with a C, too, because he was turning me into a sex fiend.

I was heading back to work when Sue called, “Briar!”

Still hate it.

Carrying a load of boxes, she grinned huge. “Just who I wanted to see.”

I’d already been her favorite employee. Thanks to Aria’s donation, I was beginning to worry Sue would start a religion around me. I wouldn’t be a good cult leader. I hated public speaking, compliments made me anxious, and I didn’t like Kool-Aid.

“Can you transfer the cats from row six into the playroom? They’re all shouting at one another. I think they need to stretch their paws and play for a bit.”

Thank goodness, it’s work related.

“No problem.”

“You’re a peach. I totally owe you more than a money tree.”

“Don’t forget about the picture of me and Mr. Worldwide.”

Sue’s head tilted to the side, her brows lowering. “What picture?”

She didn’t send…

Alexander. Of course.

I really have to talk with him about his stalking.

Or at least about timing his pictures so I don’t have a bag of poo in my hand.

“Never mind. I’ll be in the cat cave if you need me.” I walked backwards and kept talking. “It’s like Batman’s Batcave, except with feather mice and laser pointers.”

Sue laughed.

I seemed to be making that happen more and more.

And I couldn’t say I minded.

Alexander

BRINGING UP THE camera feed, I checked to see that Briar was home safe from work.

She had to know I’d put the cameras back up. She had to know I was watching.

But she moved around, pretending they weren’t. Pretending I wasn’t. She was at ease and completely herself in her home. Her fortress of solitude, as she called it. Except she wasn’t in solitude. Not anymore.

And never fucking again, if I had my way.

I closed the app and drove through the winding streets of an upper, upper, way fucking upper-class Seattle neighborhood. My bank account likely rivaled or topped some of these assholes, but at least I had some taste and humility. Each mausoleum was more ostentatious than the last.

As I drove, the jammer discreetly mounted on the dash blocked security cameras. When all was said and done, there’d be no evidence I’d been there.

Other than the dead body.

I went by my target’s house, but he wasn’t home yet. Parking a few streets away, I waited impatiently. Usually, I enjoyed it. The anticipation. It made the end result better. But I’d already spent the day in meetings. The last fucking thing I wanted to do was spend the night waiting for a bastard to drag his dick out of his mistress and come home.

Not when I could be with Briar, with my dick buried in her.

But this last one was important. After it was done, I was out. Finished. Never taking the risk, never looking deeper, and never looking back. I’d spent years trying to do the right thing. Then I’d spent years doing the right thing, even if that meant doing it in the wrong way.

It was time to be selfish.

Let someone else handle the scum of the world.

Fighting the urge to leave—and fighting a hard-on—I brought up Briar’s cell screen on mine. Like the previous fifty times I’d looked in the last damn hour, she was scrolling through mind fluff. I was glad. She deserved a break.

I switched to my calendar and emails, taking care of some work while I waited. Finally, the gleaming Beemer sped by, blowing through stop signs and squealing its tires.

Making sure everyone knew he was there.

I waited a few minutes, allowing him to get home and settled before following.

Letting myself in, I strolled through the house that was even worse inside. Cold and impersonal and hollow.

Like owner, like house.

Reaching his office, I leaned in the open doorway, waiting for him to notice me. When he didn’t, and instead began undoing his pants, I cleared my throat.

No fucking way I wanted to see that shit.

“Who the fuck are you?” His hand went under the desk, likely to touch the silent alarm that was already disconnected and not his dick again, but who knew. Everyone had their own kink.

Mine was Briar. Everything and anything Briar.

Maybe his was break-ins.

“You hired me,” I said.

Realization widened his eyes before his face went red with fury. “You stupid mother fucker. You’re not supposed to be here. She’s across town.”

She being his wife.

His pregnant wife.

The woman he’d put a hit on.

And the reason he’d driven home so obnoxiously. Although I’d put my fortune on him always being a dick, even when he didn’t need an alibi.

“Oh, hell, did I get it backward?” I shook my head. “My bad. It’s hard finding a good hitman these days, amirite?”

His gaze darted to his phone then back to me.

“I wouldn’t, if I were you.” I lifted my gloved hand that held a gun—his gun, to be exact—and rubbed my jaw. “But, whatever. You do you.”

“This is all a misunderstanding,” he backtracked, stupid enough to inch over.

In a few long strides, I closed the distance.

“Shit, I can pay…” His words trailed off as he got a better look at me. “Wait. I know you. Where do I know you from?” Snapping his fingers a few times, he pointed at me. “You contracted at my company. Something with the computers.”

That something had allowed me to see all the plans he was stupid enough to think Incognito Mode hid. It allowed me to intercede before the wrong lives were taken.

“You got it,” I said, snapping a few times like he had.

Except when