Prologue
Jude
One Month Earlier
I wake up, my body catapults to a sitting position, gasps of air leave my lungs, rough and ragged.
My hand clutches at my chest, trying to calm the beating of my heart.
Sweat is pouring from every inch of my body, all of my senses go on high alert, and I can hear every noise in my otherwise quiet home.
The only good part about waking up like this, is that I’m out of my nightmare.
For now.
You’d think almost twenty-seven years later I’d have overcome my past, except I’m haunted in my weakest hours.
When the world is dark.
When I’m the most vulnerable.
When I’m asleep.
I’m transported to the here and now, there’s no one here and there’s not one single fucking reason for my past to enter my future.
I toss the covers from my drenched body, throw my legs over the mattress, and take a deep breath.
My elbows hit the tops of my thighs, head hanging down, the clenching and unclenching of my fingers help center me from spiraling to do something stupid.
I leave my eyes open, trying to calm myself down, and try to think about other shit, shit that doesn’t suck me into the vortex of my fucked up childhood.
“Get it together, man,” I run my fingers through my hair, look at the clock on the other side of my room, and seeing the time change from two-fifty-nine to three o’clock in the morning.
There’s no going back to sleep, not after the nightmare I just had, one that still has me ready to crawl out of my skin.
“Cam, disable the alarm,” the software system I created is voice activated. It’s more detailed, capturing the unique tone of my voice, and I’m still ironing out the kinks before I make it available to my friends, their business fronts, or the public.
“Good morning, Jude. Alarm is deactivated,” the slightly less robotic female voice responds back through the speakers.
I wince at even a piece of technology notating that it’s morning at this awful hour.
The alarm chimes, a two-beat succession letting me know that a blaring horn won’t sound off and wake up the rest of my neighborhood when I open the French style patio doors.
I stand up, nab my phone from the nightstand and look to see what my notifications look like, trivial bullshit, e-mails, texts that can wait, and another alert about who’s currently online.
I drop the phone back on the wood table, grab my smokes and light before walking toward the back door.
A few seconds later the deadbolt is unlocked, the door is wide open, and I’m met with the stillness of the night.
The Florida humidity smacks you in the face, summer is thick in the air, and it’s not going anywhere.
It’s never ending, clinging around for months on end, the rarer time it drops below fifty percent, and you’re left wondering if a cool front moved in.
Only to wake up the next day, shit goes back to normal, and you’re left thinking it was a fever dream.
I walk further out on the deck, completely naked, and while my house may be in a neighborhood of sorts, similar to Asher’s minus the fact that my lot is a little over an acre.
The privacy fence keeps it secluded and I’m able to use my backyard however I see fit.
I drop the nasty habit near the edge of the pool.
I picked up years ago and I’ve yet to kick it, probably because anytime I do the nicotine calms me down from days like these.
I drop myself into the pool and I dunk my body below the surface, exhaling every last bit of oxygen, until I’m nearly to the bottom.
I close my eyes for the first time since waking up and finally I’m not in a point in time that does not one bit of good.
I flip to my back, slowly floating the surface.
The feel of sweat is gone, and its place is chlorine.
I’ve yet to convert the system to salt water, but it’s at the bottom of my list for now.
I swim until I’m near my cigarettes, my hand goes to the deck, and I use my upper body to propel myself out of pool.
The only problem is I’ve made a rookie fucking mistake, “God damn it,” water spills over, ruining any chances of me having a smoke now.
I stand up, bend down to snatch the ruined pack, crunching them in my hand, and abandon the idea of using the nicotine to calm my frayed edges.
I walk back to my bedroom, the door is still open, letting the damn air condition out like a fucking idiot.
I’m dripping wet when I move through the room, this time shutting the door behind me.
I’m in and out of the bathroom without flipping on the switch, there’s no need to see the dark circles beneath my eyes at this time of day.
I wipe myself down with the towel and throw the pack of smokes in the trash, with any luck my Zippo lighter won’t be ruined.
The next order of business is shorts, swimming naked is fine, walking around my house naked, no problem.
Sitting on my furniture without something on my body, not fucking happening.
I open the drawer of my dresser, grab the first available pair and go through the process of slipping them on.
I’m still disgruntled, more about my cigarettes than the nightmare at this point.
My eyes are well adjusted to the darkness, and I navigate through the room to grab my phone, look at the bed, disgusted that I’ll have to strip the bed again for the third time this week.
I make my way out of my bedroom, keeping the lights off while walking down the hallway, usually I’d find solace in my home office.
Except tonight with shit going the way it is, there’s no amount of work that will distract me.
Which means it’s time to sit my grumpy ass on the couch, find some candy to keep me occupied from jonsing for a smoke.
I’m half tempted to grab my keys and head to the nearest gas station.
The one thing holding myself back is having the forethought if I got behind the wheel of my 1968 Chevrolet Camaro Z28 edition, I’d no doubt wrap it around a tree with my heavy foot and heavier thoughts.
Instead, I veer off to the kitchen going straight to my snack drawer to grab the plethora of candy I keep on hand.
The light above the stove illuminates what I’m after and I hit pay dirt when my eyes land on the small, round, tropical fruit-flavored candies with a hardshell.
I snatch two packs and move into the living room.
I flop down on the couch, tossing the candy and my phone next to remote already knowing I’m about to get online to play Echoes of Destruction.
I grab the remote, turn on the television before grabbing my control to turn on the game.
While I wait for the game to load, my hand reaches for the candy, and I rip open the bag, bring it to my mouth, and toss a few in.
The urge for nicotine subsides, allowing me to take a damn breath like a normal person.
Ronnie4u flashes on the screen, letting me know the dude I added a while back is on.
They never talk, figuring it’s some kid that doesn’t want to get caught by their parents for being on late at night.
I wait a beat to see what’ll happen, for all I know Ronnie4u is downloading a game.
I continue eating the candy, keeping my mouth full at all times and that’s when I say fuck it, grabbing the headset off the ottoman in front of me, slide it on, and see if he or she will take the bait by adding them to a clan.
At least something is turning around tonight when they join in, my mind shuts down.
No longer is the past of hell licking at my heels, that shit fades to the background, and while I’m no fool well aware the nightmares will more than likely meet me again in my sleep.
The date on my phone chases me no matter what.
Anytime I look, it’s like a god damn beacon at sea, calling you to the light, and reminding me what happened.
“Dude,” I say into the mic when I see movement behind Ronnie.
My mind is on nothing but what’s right in front of me.
Call me shallow, call me a loser, you can even call me boy trapped in a man’s body.
Until you’ve walked a mile in my shoes, you can get fucked.
“Dude, are you going to take care of them?” I ask getting to the point, Ronnie is about to done for, like on the ground needing to be revived, and I’ve got fuck all to help since we haven’t secured dick in this map.
“You’re a fucking goner, dude. Can’t even turn your mic, mom most not have given you permission.” I’m talking mad shit and have since we’ve been playing the past few times.
“Um, hi. Not a dude, not a teenager either, I don’t make it a point to talk to strangers.
” A woman’s voice echoes through my ears causing me to drop the controller to the ground, in the background I can hear the damn thing rattle around, vibrating against the wood floor.
Where that shit would piss me of in a normal circumstance, abandoning the game and ignoring the noise, it’s not today.
Ronnie’s raspy, sultry tone is rich, low-pitched with a smoky edge that curls around each syllable with every exhale.
It’s edgy, lived-in, and damn if it isn’t intimate and inviting.
The bad shit disappears, nothing about earlier tries to cloud what I’m feeling by her voice alone. I’m stunned fucking speechless, and words aren’t coming out.
“Great, I take a chance and actually respond and this ShadowSeeker guy becomes mute.” My cock pulses with every word she says, whispering in my ears like she would in the quiet living room.
“Not a mute, Ronnie. What’s that short for?” My goal is to keep her on the phone while I do some deep fucking diving. I grab the remote, setting it on the ottoman, reach for my phone, and start digging for everything about the username.
“Wouldn’t you like to know, ShadowSeeker. ” The r rolls off her tongue and my mouth waters.
“I’ll tell you mine if you tell me yours,” I’m hoping she’ll take the bait while my program opens, and I type in what I need. A damn hard concept when we’re being attacked, this time it’s me being not being proactive.
“You go first.” I type in her username, the game we’re on, and am able to look at her profile to figure a few other things to input before having to give up the deeds.
“Got no problem with that, the name’s Jude. Yours.”
“Veronica, but I go by Ronnie.” My app pulls up her profile as she says her name.
I’m given every single detail of the woman who I once thought was some teenage boy.
I couldn’t have been more wrong, she’s fucking beautiful, and my cock goes hard at the thought of being around her.
“Well, Jude I hate to cut this short. You know seeing as how you basically gave me shit then turned quiet, but I’ve got to get some sleep before work.
” It’s on the tip of my tongue to ask her a million and one questions.
The answers I’m after sadly aren’t on the internet, and I’m inclined to do just that, until she lets out a tired yawn.
“Nice to meet you, Ronnie. Sorry for being a dick, get some rest. I’ll be around later tonight if you’re on.” At least now that she’s done with the game I can quit trying to multi-task and go back to looking through every piece of information available about Veronica Ronnie Navarro.
“For sure. Same to you Jude, and don’t worry about it. We all have our bad days. At least you won’t keep calling me Dude. ”
“Appreciate it. Hey Ronnie,” I grab her attention being a dick when she’s clearly tired and needs to get some sleep. Fuck, I should try to do the same myself.
“Yeah, Jude.” I press the palm of my hand to my dick, pushing the damn thing down while looking at the pictures I have pulled up on my phone.
“Nice meeting you.”
“You too,” she’s gone, her username goes to dark, and I’m left having a better day than I thought possible.