Free Breaking the Rules by Suzanne Brockmann Page B

to get yourself a birthday present,” Izzy told her. “And as far as presents go, I’m pretty exceptional.” He’d meant it as a joke, but she didn’t laugh. Terrific. “I mean, only if you go for that kind of one-night-then-good-bye thing. I really meant what I said about that. That wasn’t code or some kind of doublespeak for
maybe I’ll stick around
. Or
maybe I’ll call you in a few days
. Because I won’t. Not a chance. I’m coming off of a fabulously, devastatingly broken heart and … On top of that, I’ve got a strong hunch that we’re actually pretty incompatible. And as long as you’re getting yourself a present, well … I would’ve thought you’d know yourself a little better.” He straightened up. “So I’m thinking I should just let myself out, if that’s okay.”
    “Wait.” She took the pan off the burner and caught his arm before he could leave the kitchen. And again, just like back in the bar, he had to really work to resist the urge to pull free. “You’re just … So sweet.”
    “Hardly,” he said.
    “No, you are,” she said, and she stood on her toes and kissed him.
    She tasted like that wine and he pulled away. She only thought she knew what she wanted. “I gotta go.”
    Izzy let himself out and ran down the stairs to the street.
    He walked all the way back to the base, cursing himself with every step he took, for being the pussy that he was.
    Because, God, his stomach hurt from still wanting—always wanting—Eden.
L AS V EGAS
M ONDAY , M AY 4, 2009
    The boy who wore makeup—the one named Ben—was in trouble.
    He staggered slightly as he came out of the shop that sold absurdly expensive coffee, and he sat down right on the floor, just out of the busy stream of mall traffic.
    Neesha moved closer, eating the McFlurry that had been left behind by an impatient woman with three extremely ill-behaved children, and it was only then that she realized Ben was crying.
    That wasn’t good.
    She’d watched the relentless dance between the young people who spent most of their afternoons and evenings at the mall. There were two types—shoppers and walkers. The shoppers came in with a destination in mind, and left soon after, carrying heavy bags of clothing and merchandise.
    The walkers were shopping, too, but not for anything that could be bought with money or carried away in bags. They were shopping for power. They were there to reinforce that power, and to be entertained by those who were weaker than they were. They traveled in packs, surrounded by the more moderately powerful who worshipped them, and they all kept constantly moving, searching for their prey.
    And it wouldn’t be long until one of the packs spotted Ben sitting there.
    Crying.
    The weakest of the weak.
    As Neesha ate her McFlurry, she knew that she should cross the stream of foot traffic to Ben, to tell him he was in danger. But that five-dollar bill he’d given her still made her leery.
    But then he looked up and saw her. Wiping his eyes on the sleeve of his shirt, he pulled himself to his feet. He had two plastic bags with him, and as he wove his way through the ladies with baby strollers, he held one of them out to her.
    Of course she was already backing away.
    “This is for you,” he said, his words surprising her completely. He didn’t try to come too close, which wasn’t a surprise. He knew she was skittish. He just set the bag on the table that she’d moved behind so that something was between them, and then he backed off.
    “It’s clothes,” he said, when she didn’t move toward it. “One of my sisters’. It was her stuff. She’s kind of gotten bigger, so … I washed it so you’d have something clean to wear.”
    “I’m not giving you a blow job,” Neesha said.
    “He doesn’t want one from you, shortcake, he wants one from me.” The boy who startled them both was taller and broader than Ben. He was older by a few years, too. And he was surrounded by three of his minions.
    The