Breaker (Unmasked #3)

32. Chapter 26

Chapter 26

Cora

T he wind whips my hair around my face as I press my cheek against his back, swallowing down the sobs that threaten to escape. With one hand clutching my long dress and the other wrapped tightly around his waist, I cling to him for dear life.

The city flies by in a blur of brilliant, shimmering colors, rumbling noise, and invasive scents as we speed down the streets. But I hardly see it, barely hear it. I only faintly taste the metallic hint of rain moving in, catch the scent of oil and exhaust, glimpse the black night against bright streaks of light, feel the vibrating engine of the bike beneath me.

Breaker slows as we approach a streetlight. The bike tilts slightly to the side as he leans on one leg. He squeezes my hand that’s gripping his waist.

The tears start again.

He came.

Reaper promised, they promised, but Breaker came for me.

I want to fling my arms around his neck and bury my face in his warmth. Scream and wail with relief. I want to get off this bike and ask all the questions, burning a hole through my mind.

But then he squeezes my hand again and we’re moving once more. We weave through cars and make turns without slowing down. It feels like we ride for hours, though I know it’s not that long, until we reach the outskirts of town. The neon-lit sidewalks give way to dark alleys and shabby buildings. High-end boutiques are replaced by Dollar General’s and liquor stores. Modern high-rises are now towering overpasses, all set against the sparkling downtown skyline in the distance.

We slow down and I tighten my legs around his hips. I lift my head from his back to take in the sight of rundown trailer parks, then empty parking lots like barren concrete fields, and large abandoned buildings with boarded-up windows.

Breaker pulls up to a tall, chain-link fence topped with barbed wire, reminding me of a prison. The gate retracts with scratching metallic sounds. The engine roars to life. He steers the bike into the empty lot and drives us toward a large metal sliding bay door of a massive old factory. Several yards behind it sits another gigantic building.

I’m not hiding my face now. I’m looking at everything. Drinking in every detail and soaking up the sights around me. I’ve never seen this part of the city. I’ve only ever been surrounded by luxurious things. Soft leather and fine foods. The ugliness in my life came from the people.

The rattling metal door slides up and slams to a stop. Breaker slowly drives the bike inside. Once we park, he taps my arm, and I release him. He slides off the bike facing me and grips my waist, helping me off next. I lift my face toward his, brushing my damp cheeks and the remnants of tears away from my face. He unclips his helmet under his chin and removes it, revealing a black balaclava with one large eye hole, giving me a clear view of his bright blue eyes and dark brows.

I release my dress, and it falls around my ankles. He kicks the kickstand into place and releases the bike.

“What did he do?” Breaker grates, gently setting the helmet on the bike seat like it’s made of glass. Like he’s trying not to break it, or everything around him.

His thumb skates under my nose. Winter eyes take in my torn dress, my trembling hands. My chin wobbles. I bite my lip to make it stop.

“Little Red,” he whispers, finger gently squeezing my hip. “Did he hurt you?”

I shake my head, but it’s more to clear the images of Zane from my mind, the feeling of Rune’s hands on me in ways that felt even more vile than before, and to rid myself this stupid feeling of betrayal.

“Where are we?” I ask, taking a deep breath. “Where’s Delly? Is she okay? Is she with them?”

“She’s still back home,” Breaker tells me.

Home.

“I couldn’t exactly take you to the hotel room,” he says.

“Hotel?” The word tastes foreign. Like I don’t know what a hotel is as I search his ice-blue eyes, trying to sort through the last hour in my mind, but there’s this dull humming noise in my head. I’m aware I’m in shock, completely numb, unable to process much.

“I’m sorry,” he starts, but I cut him off by holding up my hand.

“I know you didn’t have a choice. Your father is terrifying,” I say. “I understand why you sent me back. He just didn’t have to be so dramatic about it.”

Breaker makes a sound in his throat as he slips off his tux jacket, flinging it behind him. I move forward, unsure what I want or need, when I notice where we are.

The massive open space holds what look like the living room, dining room, and garage all in one room. Behind me, several more bikes sit lined up by the bay door. A massive sectional rests nearly center of the room with a large TV hung on one wall. There’s a pool table, a table with chairs, and two doors with faded restroom signs hung loosely underneath the metal stairs leading up to the second-floor catwalk.

The loud click of a breaker cuts through the space. Dull lights from under the catwalk flood the room. I spin, looking up at the second-floor landing circling the warehouse and then up to the metal ceiling several stories above. There are no windows, and the walls are all flat black. Several metal pillars support the roof, each one wrapped with Christmas lights, giving the entire open floor a blue glow.

“You live here?” I ask, turning slowly to take it all in. I glance at him as he scratches at his balaclava before continuing toward the sofa and the TV. “All of you? For how long?”

Questions pile up as I walk, my heels clicking noisily, echoing in the large space. It is obviously an old factory, gutted and converted into a livable space. I run my hands over the leather sofa and the bookcases holding old books and games, noting the video game consoles and the coffee table with rings staining the dark wood.

“Four years,” Breaker says behind me.

His deep voice startles me, already forgetting I had asked a question. I turn to face him. My breath whooshes from my lungs almost violently.

For a minute, probably longer, I just stare at him. His piercing clear blue eyes. His dark brows that are both masculine and feminine.

“You took your mask off,” I say dumbly.

Breaker looks down at his hand holding the balaclava, then nods. A quick up-down jerk of his head. He meets my eyes. “I did.”

My heart flutters at the meaning behind his words. His actions. My legs grow weak, and I think I may crumble to the floor.

I was starting to doubt them. Beginning to doubt Reaper’s promises. Starting to think I was a damn fool for believing these men that I hardly know. Men who have committed horrible crimes. Men who saved me, sent me away, then came to rescue me from the fate Rune bestowed upon me.

Rune. The man responsible for all this.

But they promised, and here he is. Breaker, standing before me, gloriously beautiful, and I don’t know what to do or say. I suddenly feel awkward. Seeing his face means he’s a person. Not some superhuman, almost bad guy who kidnapped me. Not the masked face who fucked me with so much passion, the memory is burned into my flesh.

He’s just a man.

One I know nothing about.

“I told Delilah I’d keep you safe,” Breaker says, his voice cracking through the chaotic storm of thoughts in my head.

I keep my eyes locked on his mouth. The full lips. The delicate heart peaks somehow both elegant and too harsh. My gaze slips to his jaw, square and cut sharply, smoothly shaven, then down to the thick column of his neck. I’ve seen his neck and jawline and felt his lips, but they all look so different when I can see the rest of him.

He’s young. Close to my age, I think.

Every feature is perfectly symmetrical and stoic yet carrying that slightly too clean look that only younger men have. With high cheekbones and such smooth skin, he looks like he could be carved from marble. His long, sculpted nose, with a slight upturn, shadowing his perfect sultry mouth.

Striker has a slight harshness to his softness, while Breaker looks almost angelic in his perfection. Like he should be stalking down a runway, or singing in a choir, not standing before me.

My first instinct is to touch his cheek, then slide my hand around the back of his neck, and force his lips to mine, but I dumbly say, “You’re bald.”

The corner of his mouth lifts, and he slides a hand over his scalp like he’s reassuring himself that his head is, in fact, shaved clean. “Yes.”

I take in air, still struggling with placing him with the soldier who made me sandwiches back at the mansion, who gave me his coat because I was cold, alongside the man who held a gun to people’s faces so he could kidnap us, with the man at the party wearing the perfect tux and lion mask.

To Breaker. The man right before me who looks just as out of sorts as I feel.

Wait.

“You’re Snyder,” I say, stepping back as if putting distance between us will ease my shock. “You’re the asshole Snyder guy.”

Those eyes seem to brighten. Lips quirk into a grin. “I am.”

My laugh cuts through the room, echoing back at me. “You just took Rune for millions.”

That grin curls into a mischievous smile. “Actually, we let him have the chain of hotels with only a small profit.”

“But why?”

“To get closer to him,” Breaker says. “Rune’s love language is money. He craves it.”

“He craves a lot of things,” I say. “Including power.”

“And what better way to get close to him than to give him what he wants?”

“What did you give him?” I ask. I know they sold him something more than that chain of hotels. The sum was too large.

“Weapons.”

Out of all the things I imagined, that never once crossed my mind. I rub my temple, the sign of a headache making it harder and harder to think. “Why would you sell your enemy weapons? That makes zero sense.”

“It makes perfect sense,” Breaker says. “We needed to gain his trust. We let loose a few rumors that Snyder Inc. deals in arms. Military grade. Things you can’t even find on the black market.”

“But why?” I rifle through what I know. He didn’t make a sale of any kind after the Snyder deal. He’s not even trying to set one up. So, he can’t be reselling them.

“The yearly hunts.”

“His boys’ club?” I shake my head, trying to piece this all together. “He’s not out taking down elephants at the lodge. Why would Rune need military-grade weapons?”

He shoves his hands in his pockets. “Are you hungry?”

“What?” I look around like I’ll suddenly spot a gourmet kitchen in this converted factory, my head spinning from this conversation and sudden change in direction. From the entire night.

“Nanny always said food makes bellies happy, and happiness makes people smile.” Breaker removes his hands from his pocket, rubbing his fingers over his mouth, like he wishes he could put the words back. Winter blue eyes move up to the ceiling and then drop back to me.

My laugh surprises us both.

“Who’s Nanny?” I ask.

His perfect brows knit, like he’s debating his answer. “She was like my mother.”

Okay.

With a deep breath, I squeeze my eyes closed, gripping my dress to stop myself from spinning out of control. My mind quickly sorts through all the things I’ve learned and overheard. They were given names; they are brothers of sorts and received military training in a school. The men have a man they call their father. They are also very much not brothers in the familial sense, but in a bonded way. Viper had a name before he was Viper. Striker had a mother who passed away from an overdose. Breaker had a nanny.

“You never answered me,” he says.

my eyes open, the circling thoughts snapping to him and only him.

“Which part?” I ask. “Am I hungry, or did they touch me?”

Those plush, perfectly sculpted lips thin into a hard line, eyes darting to my nose. I swipe at it again, looking at my fingers for signs of blood, but they come away clean. Touching the bridge, I press around, hoping it doesn’t bruise, as I watch him, watch me. I know what he’s not asking. Rune and Zane certainly touched, but neither man was successful in everything else they planned.

“Neither,” I tell him. “And you never answered me.”

“I believe I did, Little Red,” Breaker says, stepping toward me and gripping my hand.

Holy shit, he’s gorgeous.

My cheeks puff as I exhale. “You evaded my question by derailing the conversation, Breaker. Why does Rune need weapons for the hunts?”

He raises my hand to his lips, kissing the back of my fingers.

“Come upstairs, and I’ll show you.”