Read Online The Liberator (A Dante Walker Novel) (Entangled Teen) by Victoria Scott - Free Book Online

reserved for corporate pricks.”
    I’m not sure why she felt the need to explain this, but I just nod. Then I try the look again.
    Nothing.
    As the elevator creeps upward, she glances at me with passive interest. “What’s your name? And this time, why don’t you try answering instead of giving that stupid” —she waves her hand near my face— “look.”
    I nearly gasp. No girl has ever called me on my crap before. I’m a little thrown off, but recover quickly. If she wants to play this nothing-fazes-me game, I’ll be her huckleberry. Because no one can pull indifferent like I can.
    Opening my palm, I flick my fingers toward her. “Cigarette.”
    She raises an eyebrow but retrieves her pack and gives me one. I light my cig with her lit one and blow the first delightful lungful of smoke up over my head. Sticking my hand out, I say, “Dante Walker.”
    Aspen eyes my hand, then shakes it. “Nice jacket,” she says as the elevator doors finally slide open. “Armani?”
    “Naturally.” I take a drag. “How old are you?”
    “What’s it to you?”
    “It’s not.”
    She steps out of the elevator, letting her eyes run over the rest of my outfit, which costs enough to save the penguins. For the first time, her mouth quirks upward. “I’m seventeen, Dante. ”
    Following behind Aspen, I decide she definitely doesn’t seem important . I also find myself wondering why I’m always sent to collect girls who are seventeen. Can’t someone mix it up? Assign me to a granny or a kid? I also wonder why Aspen’s adopted me so quickly. But as a personal policy, I try not to question when a good thing lands in my lap, so I just seal my mouth shut and keep up.
    Aspen raps once on door 917 and lets herself in. The condo is made of light: bright stone floors, cream-colored walls, white furniture, and floor-to-ceiling windows along the back wall, and in the corner, sits the one of the most emo-looking kids I’ve ever seen.
    My assignment click s across the stone floors in her high-heeled boots and plops down on a white leather couch. The guy in the corner watches every move I make, which isn’t hard. I mostly stand near the sprawling kitchen and try to look casual.
    Aspen flips her wrist back and forth between me and the guy. “Lincoln, this is Dante. Dante, Lincoln.”
    Emo kid Lincoln rises from his chair like a panther and crosses the room. He gets right up in my face and looks at me with one open eye. “I’m going to ask you a question, and I’m going to know if you’re lying.”
    “Calm down, Lincoln,” Aspen says, even though she hasn’t moved and sounds unconcerned.
    Lincoln steps closer, and the copper rings in his eyebrow twitch. “Can I trust you?”
    I laugh because I don’t know what else to do. “Yeah, man. You can trust me.”
    “Liar!” Lincoln yells. “He’s lying.”
    “Lincoln,” Aspen barks, her voice raised. “He’s with me. He’s cool.”
    The guy pushes his greasy black hair behind his ears. Then he looks down, his eyes still wide and crazy. “Sorry, dude,” he says when his head pops back up. “Gotta be careful.” His camo jacket swooshes as he makes his way back to his chair.
    I raise an eyebrow at Aspen.
    “His dad is up there in the government.” She holds her cigarette above her head, and I notice her nails are painted yellow. “No one knows what he does exactly, but he’s, like, in defense or something. The guy’s never here, and Lincoln’s sister and mom live in South Dakota. So we get this pad to ourselves mostly.”
    I glance at Lincoln, who’s staring out the window like he’s looking for a sniper. The back of one of his hands is covered with a tattoo that spells out “jackrabbit”—whatever that means—and he’s got more ink peeking out from the front of his shirt, almost like it’s trying to crawl up his neck.
    Aspen finishes her cigarette and snubs it out. Then she stares at me until I meet her gaze. “So, D-Dub,” she says. “You like to