Anarchy Found (SuperAlpha #1)

by J. A. Huss

  But they ignore the stranger. Case makes his way towards me and I towards him, and when we meet a few feet apart, he’s stuttering excuses. “I’m sorry, I just—”

  “Excuse me,” I say, pushing past him. “I need to talk to someone.”

  I walk through the doors, the men on either side giving me only a brief glance, and when I check over my shoulder to see if Case Reider is following, he’s disappeared.

  “Hmm,” I say to myself as I lift my elaborate skirts and descend the stone stairs that lead out to an expansive garden with tall hedges. It’s a cool night, and there are only a few couples milling about, but I hear laughter coming from the other side of the hedges and stop in front of a sign explaining what it is.

  A maze.

  I look around for the stranger I instinctively recognized, but he’s nowhere to be found. The back garden has a stone wall around it twelve feet high, at least. And the gate is locked, per instructions. So there is only one possible place he might be hiding.

  I find the entrance and head into the maze.

  Chapter Sixteen - Lincoln

  “Dancing with her, Case? Really? What are you trying to do, undo fifteen fucking years of luck in the span of three minutes?”

  “Hey, relax. I was just trying to feel her out. See how much she knows.”

  I lean to the side a little and give her a quick check. “Fuck, she’s coming.”

  “Just play it cool, man. And call me tonight and tell me how it goes.”

  “Right,” I say, as Case chuckles. “Asshole.” We’re in a lot of trouble. I can feel it. All the shit I’ve been pushing away is about to knock me back on my ass.

  I turn and rub my temple as I head out the back door, willing the headache that’s building to go away. There’s no way out from the garden. I know this place better than Thomas. I was the one who designed it back when we were still in school. I didn’t know what they were gonna use it for until it was too late.

  I think that was the moment I turned. Walking back through the quad after finals. The maze was supposed to be used for animals. A test, that’s what they told me. For animals, they said. But they ran us through the maze. We were the animals. More than a dozen went in and only three came out.

  Me, Thomas, and Case in that order.

  Thomas brushed past my shoulder as we walked through the Prodigy School doors, damaged even more at the end than we were going in, trying our best to pretend that shit didn’t just happen.

  “It was a good design,” he said. “And hey, you knew it better than the rest of us. So good job on being first. But brothers don’t let brothers die in the maze, Lincoln. A little heads-up next time, eh?”

  It was the first time he ever called me Lincoln and it changed everything for me.

  How he got his hands on those old plans, I have no idea. I don’t really care either, I’m just glad he did. Because the only way to stop a public scene now is to get Molly Masters inside the hedge maze where we can at least have some privacy. Not many people want to wander around a dark maze at night.

  I duck in through the opening in the hedges, then check behind me, and yeah, sure enough, her feet are flying down the stone steps. She’s looking everywhere for me.

  How much does she remember? I guess I’ll start there first. It’s possible she’s just getting little hints. And maybe my face triggered a memory, or maybe she just knows she recognizes me and can’t place it. Either way, I’ve got her attention.

  That makes me smile a little more than I’d like to admit. Because… well, Sheila was right. I like her. I more than like her. I crave her.

  Laughter pulls me out of my introspection and a few young couples go running by, probably thankful that they found the exit. There’s another exit on the far side, but once you make it to the middle most people don’t want to push their luck. They go out the same way they came in.

  I walk up around a corner, then double back though a cut in the hedge to an alcove that has a window cut through, so I can watch the detective pass by.

  The sound of soft footsteps on the large flat stones make me duck back into the darkness. A few seconds later, she walks past the window. Her eyes dart around. She looks right at me, but she’s unable to see past the shadows.

  Can I turn her? It’s a good question. One Case and I discussed at length this week after I told him the whole story. He came by the cave earlier and watched the footage with Sheila and me, and then we pulled up the tracking map from the transponder I magnetically attached to the undercarriage of her work car.

  She was at Blue Corp all week. Which, as Case pointed out, might be useful to us. If we can get her to cooperate. Everyone—I do mean everyone—knows why she was put on that Blue case and it wasn’t because they’re short-staffed.

  It was because she’s new. She’s got no history. No context. No memory.

  I wait until her footsteps fade and I walk to my left, deeper into the maze. It’s not the right path, and eventually it will dead-end on the far side of the garden after twisting and turning so much, a person unfamiliar with this puzzle might feel dizzy.

  But it goes in the right direction and meets up with another side path that will take me back to the main one. So I continue. I hear her a few times. And she hears me too. Because she stops, like she’s listening.

  I pause for several seconds and let her get ahead, and then, as silently as I can, weave my way through the heavily shadowed corridors until I’m back on the main path that takes you to the center. Thomas spared no expense building this place and rehabbing the cathedral. And I wonder why? Why spend all that money just to relive what we left behind? I’ve spent the past fifteen years trying to forget that place. Don’t get me wrong, I remember the important parts. The drugs. The doctors. The manipulation. The end.

  But the maze? And the cathedral? No. That’s not shit I need to keep.

  “I know you’re here,” Detective Masters says from a hedge or two away.

  “Come find me,” I whisper back.

  Her feet whirl on the stone path and she’s closer than I first thought. Sneaky thing, isn’t she?

  “I remember you.”

  “Yeah?” I ask, easing into another alcove. She’s gonna pass by me if she goes towards the center of the maze, so all I have to do is stay put now.

  “It was raining.”

  “It was snowing, gun girl.”

  “And you crashed a bike in front of me.”

  “I pushed you out a window.”

  “What?” she asks. I walk forward a little, and then slip across the stone path and into another corridor where I make a turn that will bring me back towards her, but on another side of the hedge. “You drugged me.”

  “You drugged yourself that night. I was just the supplier.”

  She’s silent. And then, “I was with you last weekend, wasn’t I?”

  “I thought you remembered?” I can hear her breathing, that’s how close she is. I can see bits and pieces of her cream-colored gown through small breaks in the hedge. “What do you think I did?”

  “Took me home—”

  “I sent you away, remember?”

  She hesitates. So she doesn’t remember all of it.

  “I didn’t have a party last Saturday.”

  “You sound unsure. Like parties are your thing. Are you a party girl, Molly?”

  She starts walking without answering.

  “That’s the wrong way.”

  “Why should I believe you?” She’s breathing hard now, like she’s scared. And she should be. Because she’s alone out here with me. She’s the last person on earth who should be alone with me.

  “Because I have the maze memorized. I designed it. Many, many years ago.”

  “Liar,” she whispers.

  “Keep walking then,” I say, following her on the other side of the hedge. “You’ll come to a fork—”

  “A fork in the road. You went left and he went right.”

  “You ran one way and I ran the other.”

>   “There was a dirt road. And you were driving my brother’s truck.”

  “You got a nice new brother out of that deal, eh? I should’ve never trusted him.”

  “I don’t know what that even means, but…” She lets out a long sigh.

  “Found the fork, did you?”

  “Why are you here?”

  “I’m here for you. Why else would I bother to show my face?”

  She stays silent for a few moments, and then I hear laughter from the start of the maze as more people enter. I wonder if she’ll scream?

  I decide no when she stands her ground. She wants to talk. Wants answers. And she wants to follow my lead. She might not realize it yet, but she wants me to take over. Be alpha again. “Go left at the fork,” I say.

  “Just like I did last weekend.”

  “Just like that, gun girl.”

  There’s a long silence after that, and then she draws in a deep breath, lets it out slowly. “Bike boy,” she whispers.

  “The one and only. Now do as I say and then we can talk.”

  “What if I don’t want to talk? What if I want to arrest you for rape?”

  “Rape?” I laugh. “Come on.”

  “I woke up wearing lingerie.”

  “What’s so bad about that?” I say, walking towards her voice. I have to go the other way to get to the middle, but I don’t think she’s ready to see me yet, so I stay close, but not too close.

  “Girls don’t wear shit like that to bed when they’re sleeping alone.”

  “Some girls do.”

  “Not this girl. And this girl doesn’t drink.”

  “Doesn’t drink anymore?”

  “Right.”

  “Hmmm,” I say. “But that lingerie was pretty. And you looked pretty wearing it.”

  “You took my clothes off,” she growls.

  “You were very muddy and wet. I needed to clean you up. So why not make you look pretty after?”

  “You fucking pervert.” She’s breathing harder now and I start to get a little worried.

  “We didn’t sleep together, if that’s what you’re worried about. You were stoned, man.”

  “You’re the one who got me stoned.”

  “I had to.”

  “Why?” she demands. “Why—” And then the rest must come rushing back. Because she stops and stays silent for more than a minute. We stand there, just a few feet apart but separated by more than a tall hedge. We’re separated by fifteen years. By a night in the snow and an eternity of regrets. By choices that pulled us apart, and fate or bad luck that will bring us back together.

  “Do you want to talk or not?” I finally ask, breaking the silence. “Because I have a secret to tell you.”

  “I want to arrest you.”

  “Meet me in the middle and see if you still feel the same way after.”

  “I will. You’re not going to get away with what you did.”

  “You can believe what you want, and I might be an asshole for last weekend. But it’s the things I did fifteen years ago that count. And I did keep you safe. I never raped you. And I never wanted to hurt you.”

  “No? So coerced drugging isn’t hurting someone? What if I was allergic to that drug? What if I was—”

  “You’re not.”

  “Don’t interrupt me, asshole. You don’t know anything about me.”

  “Go left,” I growl back. “Then take the first right, go past the second alcove, and then turn right again. I’ll meet you there.”

  Chapter Seventeen - Molly

  I stand absolutely still, listening to his fading footsteps as he walks away. He’s crazy. Insane. What to do?

  Run. Any man who would drug a woman, take her home, wash her off in the shower and then dress her up like some doll—well, I don’t have a strong enough word for how goddamned creepy that is.

  Go meet him. Because any man who does all those things just to keep a secret… yeah. That’s some secret he has.

  That fucking cave.

  It’s all coming back to me. The gate in the side of the mountain. The dark tunnel with the red running lights. The… lab? Holographic woman? Guns.

  I swallow hard. I’m not new to danger. Hell, I cut my teeth on things far more dangerous than standing in a hedge maze at night with a creep. But… he’s so very, very creepy. Serial killer kind of creepy.

  I shudder and look down at my gun. I do have this. And if I don’t go meet him then I’ll have to try to backtrack my way out of this damn maze. I can still hear voices—people might be in the maze. But will they find me and let me follow them out? It’s a lot larger than I originally thought. I counted the longest path and it was forty-two steps. And that wasn’t even the entire length of one side.

  I could scream and someone would come rescue me. But how the hell would I show my face at work tomorrow?

  So… I walk forward and take the first right, go past the second alcove, and then turn right again.

  And simple as you please, there I am. Standing in the center of the maze.

  “What a letdown, huh?” bike boy says from the other side of a huge statue of a satellite dish. It’s fifteen feet in diameter and mounted on a pedestal ten feet high. Spotlights on the ground point up at it, highlighting the greenish copper patina.

  “I expected more from Thomas. A Greek god or something. A fucking minotaur, maybe. But this piece of shit?” He stops looking at the disappointing sculpture and drags his gaze to meet mine. “He’s let me down before, though. So what’s new?”

  “You know Mr. Brooks?” Brooks doesn’t look like the kind of guy who hangs around serial killers. But then again… I have no idea. God, I wish I knew the people of this town better. Having no history sucks.

  “Damn,” bike boy says. “I didn’t get a chance to look at you inside.” And then he looks me up and down like he’s a wolf and wants to eat me up.

  I swallow down the apprehension I have about being alone with this man in the middle of a giant puzzle and start with the basics. “What’s your name? And why did you… do all those terrible things to me?”

  He gives me half a smile. And when I say half a smile, I mean only half there. Like he’s at war with himself and good and evil are the same thing. “How much do you remember?”

  “Most of it leading up to the…” I was just about to say kiss. I grunt and shake my head. “Drugs. What were they? Memory inhibitors, obviously. But what exactly? So I know whether you’ve damaged me permanently in some way.”

  “Well, obviously”—he laughs, repeating my own word—“I’m not telling you that. I’m not telling you anything, in fact. If you want to know, well, Detective, you’re gonna have to put in a little more effort. Come find me. You made me that promise and I’m gonna hold you to it.”

  “I did find you,” I remind him, spreading my arms wide. “And what makes you think you’re going anywhere but jail tonight?”

  “Jail for what? You have evidence?” He takes a step forward and I have to force myself not to instinctively step back at his approach.

  “I’m sure I could muster some up.”

  “Aha,” he says, tsking his tongue and pointing a black-gloved finger at me. “I see you’re catching on already. If the CCPD doesn’t have any evidence that’s what they generally do. Just muster some up. Well, I’ve got a pretty good lawyer, gun girl. So take your best shot.”

  Gun girl. “In this case it would be true. I don’t need to fake it.”

  All this time he’s still inching closer and everything in my body says to run. Run, run, run. As far away from this man as I can get. But the fight in me doesn’t give up so easy. The fight in me likes to stand and give it my best. The fight in me can be stupid at times.

  “So arrest me, gun girl. Is that who you are? Their gun girl?” He winks. “Or mine?”

  “I’m no one’s girl.”

  He smiles a charming smile, his eyes bright with possibilities. “You sure about that?”

  “Why come here tonight? Feeling guilty? Y
ou’re some kind of psycho who wants to play a game? Am I your opponent? Do you really want to play with me? Because I assure you—”

  And then here he is. Right in front of me. Standing so tall and ominous, I have to look up and take a gulp of air.

  “Who says I’m playing?” His face is shadowed, but I can picture his features. That unruly dark hair, wet from the rain. The cold wind whipping it up around his face. His equally dark eyes with that spark of amber in them. His lips, brushing against my neck in that cave. His breath, tickling me and fooling me into thinking he wasn’t going to hurt me.

  Scary, creepy fucking guy. Yeah, he’s got serial killer written all over him. So why are you still standing here talking to him?

  He’s tall, and I feel so small looking up at him, so I lower my eyes. His suit is tailored to perfection so that the white shirt under his jacket pulls across his chest, revealing hard muscles underneath.

  He reaches up and I flinch, look back up at his face. This makes him smile. I force myself to stand absolutely still as he rests the back of his gloved knuckles against my cheek and then sweeps them downward. “I love the dress, Molly.”

  Jesus Christ. He’s coming on to me. “Why did you come here?”

  “And I love what’s underneath it too.”

  I grab his wrist and twist my body, ready to throw him over my shoulder, but he grabs me by the waist and twirls me around—pressing his chest into my back, holding me close as he whispers in my ear. I freeze. The memory of that kiss back in his cave is the only thing on my mind.

  “I’ve missed you more than you will ever know.”

  “Let go of me,” I snarl, turning my body. But he grabs both of my wrists and pins them to my stomach.

  “Tell me what happened that night.”

  “You drugged me!”

  “No, gun girl. That other night.”