Page 16 of Breaker

“I knew it,” I mutter, irritation at myself for not looking sooner, making me curse under my breath.

I swear, if the keys are in there…

They aren’t and the SUV is locked when I try the handle.

Walking around the huge vehicle, I try each door and the back hatch with no luck, noting the Florida tag, when I spot the sleek black motorcycle. I check for keys, but there are none. Not that I know how to ride a bike, but I’d still try.

Even though there’s room for another car, the garage is empty, save for some tools hanging on the back wall. I glance around, looking for anywhere a key may be hidden, but they wouldn’t be stupid enough to leave the keys in here.

Sucking in a breath, I turn and step back into the weight room, shutting the door behind me.

My gut churns with unease as I step back outside into the chilly air and stare at the mansion in the distance. I know where the keys are. But the last time I went searching, I paid dearly for defying them.

A wave of dread washes over me, my heart pounding in my chest, the thought of stepping foot on the fourth floor sending shivers down my spine. It’s only been a few days since I learned there are far worse punishments than a spanking or a belt to my rear.

Chapter 6

Delilah

My boot drags asit hits the top step, and I wonder how I’ve managed to climb a set of stairs several times a day and still be this out of shape. My determination began wavering after the second set of stairs, but now that I’m on the fourth floor, it’s rising again, making my heart skip.

I need to get in better shape.

And I need to find those keys.

I’ve already determined the keys are in Reaper’s room, so I stop at the first door, hoping I’ve got the right room.

I twist the knob, but it’s locked. Lifting my foot, my hand drops to grab for my little knife when I remember once again, Viper never gave it back to me.

Damn it.

Not wasting time, I move to the second door, feeling like Goldilocks, terrified the bears are going to find me as I reach for the knob. When it turns easily, my fear jumps up a few notches, but I push, and the door swings open with a quiet creak. I glance over my shoulder, my heart already thundering so fast it’s hardto breathe. Part of me expects Striker to appear, belt in hand and at the ready, but the house is deadly quiet.

I step in, closing the door behind me, and scan the room. It’s just like Striker’s, but there’re no masks lined up, and no personal items on display. The dresser drawers reveal nothing, only a few black shirts and socks. The bottom drawer reveals a stack of masks, telling me I’m in Breaker’s room.

Other than that, the room is completely empty save for one of those old traveling trunks. I slide over to the vintage footlocker at the end of his bed, taking in the creamy, pillowy comforter, and knitted blanket thrown artfully over the end. I drop to my knees in front of the leather footlocker and flip the rusted latch open. As much as I know I shouldn’t be snooping, I can’t seem to stop myself.

Inside are several old and worn music books and thick folders bound with string. Even though my mind screams to hurry, I pick up a folder and unravel the string, opening it to the last page.

I blink several times, trying to figure out what I’m seeing. Times and dates. Random names, mostly female, and some strange form of code. Many have been crossed out, some so aggressively, the pen ripped through the paper. The next page holds more names, some men, but all crossed out. In the middle of the book are pages filled up with strange lists, almost like a log, with dates and times and a letter next to it.

C 11-12-20 12:00/12:30 w/D CICI Italian

Stay focused. Stay centered.

My mother’s words flash in my head and my heart flutters painfully. It’s been so many years since I’ve even thought about that day that I slam the book shut and shove it back, closing Breaker’s trunk and standing.

Keys. I need those keys.

I glance at the bed again, the fluffy blankets and expensive sheets, and I briefly wonder what it would be like to sleep next to them.

Which one, Delilah?

I shake the thought loose, because I don’t have the mental or emotional capacity to delve into the logistics of fucking four men and my best friend. Much less picking apart what their promises mean when they just sent Cora back to the seventh level of hell.

Scanning the space one last time, I leave Breaker’s room, and dart to the door between Striker and Breakers. I don’t even have to wonder if it’s locked because the door is partially open, like it never latched all the way. Using just the tips of my fingers, I tap it, and it swings open. Bright yellow light from the bedside lamp spills across the floor, illuminating the space with a buttery glow. When I step in, I know immediately it’s Viper’s room.

It smells like him.

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