Page 110 of Vicious Saint
There’s an upside to having the founder of the biggest cybertech company in the world as a father—you learn a thing or two about tweaking the system.
So, with a quick wedge to the bathroom door as the guard took a shit, I broke through the firewall of the cameras, leaving them on loop as I gathered the items I instructed Theory to hide in my trunk.
Breaking out of the looney bin was a vigorous task, but you’d be surprised what a guy can accomplish with a handsome face, good dick, and loads of cash.
Katie, I think it was? Head of Psych. Great lay.
Her assistant? Not so much.
But…the drought was long and I was desperate.
So, I fucked them both senseless for a get out free card—with every intention of spending the last of summer in my dorm, where there’s nobody to nag me or answer to.
Or watch me like a hawk every time I get pissed off.
The cycle is always the same: Saint loses his shit, Saint gets sent away, Saint comes back drugged up and well behaved. Saint watches everyone tiptoe around him until they finally let their guards down.
Here’s the thing about distance after a psychotic break.
You’re gifted with clarity.
About the things you want.
The things you don’t.
The things you know you should avoid.
That last one, man. That’s the motherfucking kicker.
Because out of all the endless rambling and my knack for tuning people out, I managed to search in and out of the pits of hell to find what’s left of my soul.
It was only a chip. Yeah. You know it.
Right on the shoulder.
Making the idea of still hating Hendrix, while letting things slide between me and her, hard as fuck. Took a lot of imaginary throttles, woo-sahs, even wet dreams, to shake the need to carry out the first one.
Despite such feral instincts, I also decided it’s best to stay as far away as possible, at least until I figure out how a feisty brat, barely five foot four with great tits, has managed to tear down walls I’ve spent years building brick by bloody brick.
Revenge has always been my sweetest ecstasy, so if you take that, and Theory’s history with the bitches at her old school, of course I’m still going to want it.
But…deep, deep,deepdown, I know, even though Hendrix can be a raging bitch, she makes my sister happy.
Ergo…there’s no hurting one without the other.
And the part of me that’s willing to risk it, is locked up tight where I need him to be if I want to stand a chance at feeling human again.
So here I am, taking the high road. Keeping my distance here until she’s back in her dorm. Refraining from tearing out her throat and gluing it like a trophy on the wall.
I wait until the coast is clear of officials before turning off the engine, swinging the door open and slamming it shut behind me when I climb out.
As I pull my duffle out of the trunk, the scorching heat forms tiny beads of sweat along my neck, so I spin my Yankee fitted around to block the rays.
The sound of my trunk slamming alerts a cop exiting the building, and I assume I’m fucked until he juts his chin and compliments me on my Manning Jersey, then continues on his way.
Words like his would usually spark my need for long conversations about his success, retirement, and the quality of the team ever since.
Can’t help it.
