Page 44 of Never Broken

Under normal circumstances, I could sometimes get away with using the early morning hours to go downstairs and catch a few hours’ sleep. Not to mention, I wanted a glimpse of whatever ridiculous outfit I’d be stuck wearing tonight during my first face-to-face encounter with Max Langer, and to figure out how to face the guy down without killing him on sight. But exhausted as I was, it was time to turn on the charm again, whether I wanted to or not.

I found the maid at the sink, rinsing pickle brine off her hands. Sliding casually into her line of sight, I flashed her the kind of smile that never failed me. “Just who I was looking for.”

HER

I wasn’t exactly sure how I’d managed to go from the miracle of being nestled in his arms to being ordered to get out of his life in the course of a night, but, like the absolute ace I was, I continued to outdo myself.

Was it so crazy that I’d taken it upon myself to track down Maeve? Did I really have zero chance of ever understanding what he’d been through? Sure, the teddy bears and gumdrops of my childhood had been supplanted in his by shackles and whips, but we weren’t really so far apart, right? And yeah, I hadn’t actually thought of him as a person up until about a week ago,but why wouldn’t he instantly trust me with his and his family’s very survival?

Stupid, stupid, stupid girl. No wonder that poor slave working on campus had looked at me like she had. She wasn’t scared of me. She was just astonished that anyone on the planet could be that fucking clueless.

Iwantedto sleep. I’d safely escorted my mother up the stairs and tucked her in bed with another glass of water and some ibuprofen. But I wasn’t sure I’d ever be able to peacefully sleep in my bed again, knowing he’d been in it. And if I couldn’t sleep, what was the point of lying there and tormenting myself?

So it wasn’t as if I weretryingto clumsily re-inject myself into his affairs. I was well aware that I had dug half my own grave and that it was time to stop. But four in the morning found me traipsing in my glasses, camisole, pajama pants, and flip-flops through the gardens, silent except for the strange hollow call of the nightjars flitting in front of the moon, and when I passed the narrow door leading to the pantry and kitchen, voices and shattering glass greeted me. It didn’t take too much deductive reasoning to figure out who they belonged to.

No, dig up, stupid.Up.

I kneeled and put my ear to the door.

The house had thick walls and good insulation, so I didn’t hear everything. I heard the accusation of hiding something. I heard about an agreement. I heardgo fuck yourself. And I thought I heard something about me. But before I had time to contemplate any of this, the voices got louder and more forceful—the housekeeper’s, too, now—and I leaped out of the way at the abrupt turn of the knob, tripping backward over an ornamental boulder, landing with a thud, hands scraping painfully against the lava rocks. I lay there for a few moments, frozen in fear, sweat trickling down my neck and back. The desert heat, eventhis early, was already strong enough to start roasting me inside my pink unicorn pajama pants.

The door was flung open, and I scrambled backward, catching my arm painfully on a barrel cactus spine, my legs barely escaping the semicircle of light emanating from the pantry as the gardener stalked out, eyes scanning the ground. He must have heard something.

It had been a while since I’d been this close to the perverted creep. When I was twelve, I’d caught him watching me undress in the poolhouse, and he’d threatened to chop me up with his chainsaw and bury me in the garden if I told Daddy. Being a stupid, weak, compliant kid, I believed him. From then on, I always undressed in my room and literally jumped in front of a moving car to avoid him on at least one occasion. But now, here, at first light, he was even worse than I remembered: the size of a bulldozer, dirt lodged in the spaces where his teeth should be, carrying a metal shovel covered with what I was pretty sure was dried blood—human, animal, or both. I tried to quiet even my heartbeat, not even daring to breathe.

At last, he snorted and turned away, heading toward the shed. He hadn’t seen me.

I scrambled to my feet. I had two minutes, at best.

HIM

“I need to borrow something of yours.”

The maid’s green eyes widened with interest. She probably thought I was about to request her “services,” especially since I hadn’t been able to reach everywhere with the aloe. A few days ago, I might have asked. Maybe later, I still would. Nothing was holding me back.

Right?

“Oh? What’s that?” she asked neutrally, turning around and slowly, sensually wiping her hands on a towel.

“Your brilliant skills as an actress, to keep the housekeeper busy for a few minutes while I grab something from the pantry.”

She frowned, clearly disappointed, and threw down the towel. “I don’t know,” she said, chewing on her bottom lip. “She’s in a mood today, what with company and everything. Plus, she was all pissed about this huge mess this morning. It wouldn’t be wise to push her.”

She was right. It wouldn’t be wise at all, but neither was anything else I’d done in the last twelve hours, so why worry about it now? “Look, I promise this is nothing that will make her mood worse than it already is. And I’ll owe you one, too,” I promised.

“Anything?”

“Anything. Just name it.”

She hesitated for a moment before nodding. Fellow slaves—especially lonely, attention-starved girls—rarely if ever forgot to call in their favors; it was one of the only forms of currency we could trade freely. Which meant I’d be fucked later, but at least I wouldn’t be fucked now. And why did my lifealwaysseem to come down to exactly that choice?

A high-pitched shriek left her mouth, so loud I had to back away to preserve my eardrums.

“There was amouse!” she squealed to the housekeeper when she burst in. “It ran right into the powder room!”

“Oh, for heaven’s sake,” the housekeeper replied, throwing her hands in the air. “That’s just what we need: rodents running around everywhere while the master has guests.”

The maid grabbed a broom. “This way. Come on.” They both dashed out again, but not before she shot me one last “you owe me” look.

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