Protect All Monsters Read Online Free

honest with you, Addey. I’m like a United States Army recruiter. I pick the shitty, low-class parts of the cities to find my participants. Now, I can’t just ask them to join us. We can’t go public either. Nope. Human rights activists would shit a political brick. It’s best the general population remains dumb to our problem. I have to swoop down and capture people during some heavy shit to convince our recruits to join in the effort. I have to call my people—like the ones you witnessed at the crime scene—and have them do their thing before the media gloms on to what we’re doing.” His eyes narrowed in on her. “National security—global security—is at stake.”
    She was disappointed the cigarette was already three-quarters spent. “You’re hardly cutting to the chase.”
    He visibly took pleasure in what he shared next. “You’re low class, which means you’re poor. You’re exploitable, okay? Your brother was a drug dealer. Hardly the sultan of the earth. Your parents are Mexican. You’re minority. You’re single. You’re a workaholic. You’re a loner. You don’t have many friends. I’m not a racist, and I’m not trying to pick on you, but these are the qualities I look for when recruiting. You’ve been on a list for years. You graduated high school with a 3.6 GPA despite working forty hours a week. You’ve paid your bills and survived without giving in to drugs or crime. You’ve got a good head on your shoulders. That’s also why you’re here.”
    What could she say to this except, “I’m still very confused.”
    Mr. Quinn checked his watch. “Ah, it’s about time.” He turned on the television that was propped on the cart across from her to Channel 5 Action News. “Give it a few seconds, and you’ll see.”
    The reporter, Linda Evans, stood in front of the Sunshine Motel amid a local police crew and an ambulance. Linda began: “ Tonight, tragedy struck a local motel. Employee Addey Ruanova was shot dead tonight by a drug dealer trying to break into the manager’s office. The culprit was also gunned down. His name was Deke Ruanova. Junior, the motel's manager, was the only one to survive the vicious attack .”
    The camera panned to “Junior Alverez”. He was wearing the Lakers jacket and those thick-rimmed glasses. He was identical to the murder victim, a spitting image. Even his voice sounded right. “ It’s terrible what happened. Addey saved my life when Deke tried to shoot me. I gave him what he wanted, the money, access to my safe, and he was still disgruntled. He shot Addey, and he was going to shoot me, but Addey managed to take the gun and shoot him first. Deke shot back in the scuffle, and she was murdered.” Crying now, “God bless her, she saved my life .”
    The pit of her stomach dropped a hundred flights. It slowly sank in: the news report, her death, and Junior standing in for the interview—the man who’d had half his head missing! She shot up from her chair, outraged. Mr. Quinn shoved her back into her seat. “Look, you’ve got a long few days ahead of you and some major adjusting, so calm yourself down. Please.”
    Addey pounded her cuffed hands against the table, feeling herself trapped in Toby Quinn’s exploitative grasp. “What the hell is this you’re trying to pull? I’m not dead. How could Junior be standing there? He’s the one who was killed tonight. Why do all this shit for me if I’m a low-class Mexican not worth a damn, according to you? I’m a nobody. I’m afraid to find out what exactly you’re planning to do with me for all this effort.”
    Mr. Quinn went to work to assuage her outburst. He set a laptop computer on the table. He turned it on and began typing. “Computer technology has worked wonders for us in the past decade or so. It’s easier to recruit people in your circumstances. You see, there are two kinds of police. The normal police, and then there’s us. Only certain people are in the know about what we really do. You