The List by Gregg Hurwitz

The List

The List by Gregg Hurwitz (Orphan X #5.5)
English | 2020 | Thriller | ePUB | 3.0 MB

Gregg Hurwitz is the internationally bestselling author of You’re Next, Or She Dies, We Know and I See You. A graduate of Harvard and Oxford Universities, he lives with his family in California, where he writes screenplays, television and comics including Batman and Wolverine.

A thrilling new story featuring Gregg Hurwitz’s New York Times bestselling Orphan X!

Joey Morales was the last recruit of the government’s full black operation, the Orphan Program. Trained to be an assassin until she washed out, she was rescued by Evan Smoak, the former agent known as Orphan X.
Now Joey, still a teenager and under the watchful eye of Evan Smoak, lives on her own (with Dog the dog) and attends college.

While on campus, she tries to stop a young woman’s suicide attempt – and fails. Then Joey uncovers the reason for Becca Morgan’s desperate act – a document called The List, which ranks and rates women around campus based on their sexual appeal and performance.

Determined to find the boys behind The List, the ones whose callous acts drove Becca Morgan to suicide, Joey recruits the help of her mentor, Orphan X, and uses all her skills to uncover and expose the ones responsible.
Usually working from the shadows, Joey has to put herself on the line and in harm’s way this time to not just avenge the dead but to protect the rest of the women who are targets of the hidden cabal behind The List.

Next came the left side, her worse side, getting into the outside hip flexor. She sipped in air and gave out shaky exhalations, and then all of a sudden it came in a rush, no memory, just emotion pure and raw and coded into the fascia itself. Her hip released, and she gave a faint, shuddering cry, and her chest lowered six more inches right down onto the mat. The bar of her shin against her breasts, her stomach lying pressed across the thigh, forehead grinding the mat. She was gasping, trying not to whimper, everything breaking over her like a flood, and she was just her heartbeat and her breath and her body, totally present, her skin glowing from the heat.

She held the pose against all reason, pain and pleasure fused in a fires-of-hell union, and then Forrest instructed them to exit the pose. She tried not to grimace against the creaks and aches, pushing herself back into Downward Dog, directing her gaze back through the stems of her straightened legs.

That’s when she noticed.

Two guys in the row behind her, snickering and checking out her ass.

She almost couldn’t believe how deeply it struck her, a wave of heat roiling through her already overheated body. She was stretched wide, loose in the joints and muscle, carved open like a halved piece of fruit, and laid bare, and there they were, two dickhead dude-bros staring in at all that rawness and taking it—her pose, her noises, her long-suffering body—as something sexual.

As a source of amusement.

Like some thing they wanted to hump.

She gave another quick glance. The guy on the left was annoyingly good-looking. The other, huge and bulky, she recognized as the starting center for the football team. They were both shirtless, bodies oiled with sweat. They eye-fucked her and nudged each other and grinned predatory grins.

She dropped into Child’s Pose yet even then felt their gaze from behind and thought she could hear them murmuring to each other, but she didn’t look back.

A pulse of shame thrummed all the way down to the marrow, and she tried to redirect like she normally did—to anger, outrage, a planned counterattack—but she was too spent at the end of the hour in this heat, with her joints unhinged and her breath all through her body.

So she lay there in the give-up pose even as Forrest talked everyone else through the lower-back twists. Breathing hard, sweat pouring down her shoulders, trying not to cry. And she was mad at herself for letting them get to her, two douchebags who came in to check out girls’ asses, who were only here so they could brag about doing yoga to fuck sorority girls. And then she was ashamed about being mad, letting them get the better of her, and then ashamed for being ashamed, and it was all a big loop of self-loathing and humiliation that fed itself and spiraled down and down and down.

Leave a Comment

%d bloggers like this: