Highest Bidder Collection - Lauren Landish Page 0,99

shoulder because she missed my father turned to beating me because I reminded her of him.

She was responsible for her actions. I know that. But he didn’t help. He made them worse.

Jake Shapero. Her boyfriend who got her addicted to harder drugs and led her down the path that ultimately destroyed the mother I once knew.

Also, the asshole who broke my jaw because I dared to talk back. I flex my jaw at the memory as I use the spatula to lift the perfect omelet off the pan and onto a plate. I have no desire to eat it at this point, but I still add salt and pepper and sit at the table. Routine is important.

I close my eyes, and he’s there. It wasn’t just one punch, but I didn’t see him. As I covered my face with my forearms, I saw her in the background. Sitting at the table, bent over and wiping the coke from under her nose, not even bothering to show emotion.

That’s not what made me want to kill him. That’s not why I got into this business.

When I was fourteen, I watched him kill her. It was the culmination of two long years of abuse and neglect, night after night. I watched him hit her; I watched him strangle her. He didn’t see me there, and I’d longed stopped defending her. A broken jaw, busted ribs, and beatings from both of them for interfering taught me to stay away.

I hadn’t realized he was actually killing her. I couldn’t believe she was really dead, even after she fell to the floor and his anger changed to fear as he shook her.

I watched him, and did nothing. The guilt weighs heavy on my chest as I take a bite of the tasteless eggs. Hating the memory.

I was tortured for years while I lived with my distant Aunt Maureen. She’s much older than my mother, almost like a grandmother. She gave me a good life; she took care of me as though I wasn’t troubled. But I never forgave myself.

How could I?

I never wanted to go to college, but Aunt Maureen made me. I was happy to keep her preoccupied with me being in college while I learned more useful skills. Meeting Joshua and Zander was the best thing that happened to me in college. I learned how to track down targets, how to hack into databases and effectively get someone’s records and backgrounds.

That someone being Jacob Shapero.

I wasn’t surprised to learn he was in prison for assault and battery, as well as possession. I had to wait over a year. A year of growing my security business with Joshua and making it legit. Thanks to Zander, a silent partner, we had the funds and clientele to make it exclusive. But every day was just one step closer to my goal. The night he was released, I waited for a sign of activity. I had ten close contacts' phones monitored. And he made the call not fifteen minutes after leaving the station. The second night, I crept into his deceased grandmother’s house and shot him in the back of the head. Waiting that long fucking killed me, but I had to do it right. I spent years preparing, and it only took two days to see it through once I had the opportunity.

I have a lot of connections now, six years later. Many powerful and also corrupt people, due to this clientele and because of the deals I’ve taken. It’s not about the money. It’s about making things right. The business is legit, although some of my methods toe the line. Occasionally I break the law to obtain information. That’s the business I run. We call it security, but we’ve been known to do things a little less legal.

I haven’t taken a private client in a long fucking time. It's been years. The club takes a lot of my time and if there’s a client in need, I hand them off to someone who’s qualified. The money’s good, and the business is streamlined.

Sometimes I wonder if my focus on routine and careful practices, my seclusion and most notably my past, are why I am the way I am. Why I thrive on privacy and control. Not in everything. Just things that matter.

In relationships, especially.

I need complete control. I need trust so deep that she’ll give herself to me completely.

I’m not interested in normal. I’ve had a few relationships, but none that meant anything to me. None that