Page 1 of Fiendish Ways

Chapter One

How it began…

Three months ago.

His face stung. Nebraska already knew from experience he wouldn’t be able to see out of his left eye by the end of the day. As always, he didn’t even know what set off his dad’s tirade. Nebraska had just been doing as told, trying to help sort through their things in storage. Then his dad had mumbled to himself about Nebraska being useless. Nebraska had immediately decided to walk away. He had known exactly where things would go from there. Hate-filled words had been hurled at his back. Boxes started flying. One hit him in the back of neck and head, unbalancing him. Then his dad’s fists had started flying. The way they always did.

Nebraska didn’t fight back. That never failed to make things worse. He tried to stay still, calm, and hope things ended fast. His dad disappeared. Nebraska blinked. He was still too disoriented to focus. His gaze moved around the room, hunting for the next strike. Except his dad was three feet off the ground. A beefy arm choked the life from him. His purple face got darker by the second. He flailed helplessly against the man who held him with ease. Nebraska couldn’t move. All he could do was stare. His dad was huge. No one ever challenged him. This guy was bigger. Sweat didn’t even coat his brow from the struggle.

The man’s blue gaze locked onto Nebraska. He looked cold. A chill ran down Nebraska’s spine. “Are you okay?”

Even though it wasn’t true, Nebraska nodded.

“Good. Please step outside.”

He was so calm. So polite. Nebraska didn’t even hesitate to do as he asked. His feet carried him outside. Something tickled his face. Nebraska brushed it away and realized he was bleeding. With no other choice, he peeled off his shirt and used it to pinch his nose. He always had the worst nosebleeds once they started. They took forever to stop. His thoughts were strange. They were scattered but calm. In his heart, Nebraska understood that only feet away, some guy probably killed his father. Maybe it was shock, but Nebraska felt nothing. He was completely unbothered. Harold James had been begging to die badly for as long as Nebraska could recall. He was violent and heartless. When Nebraska’s mom had died, and he had been sent to live with his dad, he had tried begging for foster care. His parents had been divorced for a reason. There had been a restraining order for a reason. His dad hadn’t been given visitation for a reason. No one listened. CPS was overworked and the foster care system already had their hands full. Nebraska had a place to go, so that was where he went. Now he was nineteen and could have left last year, except no, he couldn’t. Harold wouldn’t let him go. So Nebraska felt nothing.

It seemed as if hours had passed before his savior reappeared. He quietly closed the door on the storage unit before meeting Nebraska’s stare. “What’s your name?”

“Nebraska,” Nebraska mumbled around the shirt.

The man moved closer. He took the shirt from Nebraska and checked beneath. With the softest touch, he wiped Nebraska’s face. “I’m Cree. You weren’t part of my plan today, Nebraska. I still have a job to do. You’re not bleeding any longer.” He didn’t back away. Nebraska kept staring up at him, mesmerized, as Cree spoke. “I can’t leave you behind. For one, you’ve seen my face. Second, if this is a common occurrence, you’ll be the first person the cops question when they can’t find this piece of shit.”

“Oh.” Nebraska didn’t know what else to say. “I doubt anyone except the bar owner down the street will miss him. He hasn’t worked in years, and he doesn’t have any friends.”

Cree nodded. “Still. I’m not a man who takes chances… or hostages. Will you willing get in the SUV behind you?”

Nebraska glanced over his shoulder. A black SUV sat parked at his back. His gaze slid back to the giant who saved him. “Yes.” It was funny. Nebraska knew it was likely the man intended to kill him and dispose of his body. Yet he still agreed. He also wasn’t scared, but Nebraska didn’t move. His gaze refused to give up the sight of Cree.

Cree’s features softened.

The air left Nebraska’s lungs in a stuttering whoosh.

“You’re safe now.”

Was he? Because Nebraska didn’t care at all. He just wanted to stay with Cree.

Chapter Two

Present day…

Nebraska’s best friend growing up, Amelia, had always said he was too innocent and trusting. She claimed he would end up dead in a ditch someday. If Nebraska’s dad hadn’t destroyed their friendship, she would probably chastise him for his current living situation. He had been staying with complete strangers nearly five hundred miles from everything he knew for three months now. They hadn’t killed him and left him in a ditch yet.

The thing about him was, it wasn’t that he was innocent and trusting. That was something Amelia had never understood. He had seen too much heartache to be truly innocent, and he wasn’t here because he had been too trusting. Nebraska was desperate. Being at absolute rock bottom changed a person’s outlook. He didn’t have the luxury to worry about trust. Nebraska needed to survive, and he couldn’t leave Cree. Not that he thought he would be allowed to leave anyhow.

Three men crowded into the kitchen where Nebraska enjoyed his cereal. All three had visible weapons. Nebraska tucked in closer to his bowl and ignored their chatter. The house belonged to Archer Woods. From what Nebraska gathered in his three-month stay, Cree was Archer’s bodyguard. He didn’t know why he needed guarding. Nebraska didn’t ask, and no one offered explanations. He considered taking his cereal to his room. Everyone ignored him. Nebraska got more nervous by the second. He tried making himself smaller. Everyone was so fucking big. Big men with weapons reminded him too much of his dad. Nebraska had learned years ago to be quiet and invisible. He kept his eyes on his bowl.

Warms hands landed on his shoulders. Nebraska drew a deep breath. He hadn’t seen Cree in a few days. Cree had gone out of town with Archer. Nebraska didn’t know where. He never asked questions. But he immediately recognized Cree’s hands and Nebraska had missed them. Nebraska could never say that.

Warm lips moved closer to his ear. “Why are you eating breakfast at one o’clock in the afternoon?”

Nebraska fought a smile. “The thought of regular food made me feel sick.”

Cree pulled out the chair beside him and met his stare. Those blue eyes owned him. “Are you having another Crohn’s flare up?”

It was embarrassing, but Cree had found him on the floor, curled up and crying a month after moving him in. From there, Cree had been privy to all of Nebraska’s embarrassing medical issues. He nodded. “It’s not so bad this time, but I’m having trouble eating.”

“Have you been taking your meds?”

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