Page 10 of Delta (Alpha #12)

"Fuck me, mate. Where was this all my life?" I buy the audiobook right then and there, pull my earbuds out of my jacket pocket, and thumb one in. And sure enough, the crisp, arch, high-brow British male reader picks up reading where I’d left off. "Fuck me," I mutter again. "That's my life changed."

She stares at me. “You really didn't know audiobooks were a thing?"

"No." It's all I'm willing to offer her.

We reach the ticketing kiosk and I buy us tickets with cash.

A train arrives just then, and I guide her onto the train.

So far, she seems willing to go along, almost not realizing what I'm doing.

Best-case scenario here is she keeps on like this and there's no fuss about it.

I'm starting to like this sexy brown goddess.

Which could pose a problem. I don't want to have to do anything unpleasant.

Once we're seated, I put my earbuds away and settle back, hoping she'll leave the topic of my reading issue alone.

"So…you have a hard time reading?"

Fuck. The questions. Always women with the fucking questions.

"Yeah, you might say that."

She sits twisted in the seat, staring at me expectantly. Waiting for me to fill the silence.

I've withstood torture, all right? Needles under the fingernails, waterboarding, beatings, electric shocks. Wouldn't recommend it, but I survived it and didn't give them shit but name, rank, and serial number.

But this girl's silence is fucking unnerving.

"I'm dyslexic, alright?” I pick at a loose thread on the belt loop of my jeans.

"That book on Roman history looked dense .”

"Yeah." More of that stupid, effective silence. "I didn't get much schooling. I'm trying to make up for it. And I like history. That all right with you?"

She smiles at me, and fuck me sideways, that smile lights up her face. It's the kind of smile you'd kill men for. And she's turning it on me. I don't much like how my gut flips about because of it, either. Or my clammy palms.

"I think that's great, Rush." She leans closer to me. "Can I tell you a secret?"

"Sure."

"I hate reading. But I love books. So, I listen to audiobooks."

"You hate reading but love books."

She nods. "Yup. My eyes cross after about thirty minutes, and then the lines start swimming all over the page, and I end up reading the same paragraph eighty-seven times. But I love stories. I love books. I just…I'm not great at reading."

I fiddle with the zipper of my jacket, watching a young fella trying to pickpocket an old woman.

I catch his eye and shake my head. "Take what you've got and make it about a thousand times worse,” I say.

“The letters flip around and get all jumbled up, words jump around, it's all a fucking mess. Damned impossible, is what it is."

"Huh. I wonder if I have, like, a mild form of it." She sits in silence for roughly a minute. "So, where are we going?"

I gesture in the direction the train is going. "That way."

She rolls her eyes. "Wow. So helpful. So informative. Just absolutely brilliant conversation."

I'm mostly successful at hiding my grin of amusement. "Just getting away."

"From the cops?"

"Them too."

"Who else?"

I sigh. "Those blokes weren't just your run-of-the-mill troublemakers.

They were career gangsters. They wanted you for a reason.

" I should know. I'll probably catch hell for killing them, but it's worth it to erase scum like them from the planet.

"And that means there'll be more out there looking for you.

Stunner like you'll fetch a high price in the right markets. "

Her gaze snaps to mine, suspicious and wary, suddenly. "You sound like you're familiar with the market, Rush."

"Not as such, no. Not like you're thinking." Which is true. I make a point of not lying if I can help it. I'm a shit liar. What I'm good at is omitting the truth, or stretching it. But I almost never outright lie.

She doesn't answer for a moment or two. "Not sure how satisfactory that answer is, Rush."

I shrug. "Only answer you'll get, Gorgeous. It is what it is."

"I hate that stupid fucking phrase," she grumbles. "It doesn't mean anything."

I don’t respond to that. The more I talk to this girl, the more I like her. Which is a bad thing. I can't like her.

We ride the U-Bahn to the opposite end of Berlin. I nudge her knee with mine when the doors swish open, and she precedes me out. I follow her with a hand on the small of her back—her body heat radiates through the thin material of the suit coat.

"Ain't cha cold, love?" I ask.

She shrugs. "I mean, yeah. It's fucking freezing and I’m not exactly dressed for the weather. Assholes."

"Who?"

"The turd-suckers who snatched me and the other girl."

“Turd-suckers. You've got a way with words, you have.

" We hit street level, and I guide her away from the intersection.

I've no clue where we are, but it doesn't matter.

This is just to keep her off-balance. And also, I'm genuinely trying to lose her pursuers.

You'd think he'd lay off now he's got me on the situation, but I guess he doesn’t trust me all the way.

Smart man—I'd double-cross him in half a heartbeat.

We pass a small breakfast cafe; an older couple exits just then, and the scent of hash browns and pancakes wafts out with them.

Bryn's stomach snarls noisily.

I laugh. "Hungry, hey?" I press her toward the door. "Come on. Let's get some food."

"Thank fuck. I'm starved."