Deviant Page 3

  Reaching my door, I first listened. I had learned to do that over the last years, to pay closer attention, to watch people around me. To always be aware and to know the fastest way to the exit. All was quiet though and I slid my key into the lock, turning it simultaneously with the doorknob to open the door. Although it was daytime, I’d kept the heavy curtains drawn and between that and the rainy, overcast day, the room was dark. I closed the door behind me and set the key, my purse, and the umbrella down, my gaze on the window. I went to it slowly and just drew the curtains far enough apart that I could see out but not be seen myself.

  The room across the courtyard looked very different from mine. The lights were on and even brighter lighting had been brought in. Two uniformed officers along with several figures in civilian clothing worked, gathering evidence, trying to piece together the puzzle of a murder. There was a sudden, bright flash then and I gasped, dropping the curtain and pressing my back against the wall, my hand to my heart. I forced myself to take a deep breath and calm down. Of course, they were taking photographs of the scene. And if they were smart, they’d question the guest from across the courtyard whose room looked directly into the dead woman’s room. I reached a trembling hand out to switch on the dimmest lamp. It took a little feeling around to find the cord and I pulled on it, but the exact moment I did was the exact moment I saw him.

  I let out a little scream and jumped backward, pressing my back to the wall as he rose to his feet and put a finger to his lips.

  “Shh.”

  How had I not seen him? How had I not sensed him? He hadn’t even been hiding, he’d been sitting there on the couch waiting for me.

  I swallowed as he stopped just a few inches from me. I turned my gaze up to his, his cold, blue eyes piercing through me as his gaze bore into mine before scanning me from head to toe. I don’t know how I didn’t scream then. Don’t know how I stood there, trembling as I was, and it was only when he reached a hand to my chin and lifted my face to his that I even remembered to breathe.

  “You like to watch, Mia?” he asked, his voice a low, deep rumble that made every hair on my body stand on end, brought every nerve ending to life.

  I would have screamed then. I opened my mouth to just as he clamped his large, gloved hand over it, pushing me against the wall, stifling my scream. Inhaling leather, I wrapped my hands around his forearm, my limbs acting purely out of instinct. I knew in that instant that all my fears were true. That this man, this man whom I’d watched fuck the dead woman, this man who had aroused me more than any other, who’d had me shamefully watching so intimate an act, was a killer. I knew it as surely as I knew my own name.

  It was then I realized that he’d said my name. I would have asked how he knew it, how he’d gotten into my room, but at that moment, terror held me paralyzed in its grip.

  “Now, are you going to scream if I take my hand away?”

  I tried to shake my head no but he was pressing so hard that I couldn’t move it. Was he here to kill me, knowing I’d seen his face? That I was a potential witness who could identify him?

  I tried to say that I wouldn’t scream but it came out muffled against his palm. He took a moment to peek between the curtains at the room across the way before returning his attention to me, his gaze moving to my hands, which gripped his forearm.

  “There’s a reason you haven’t gone to the police yet,” he said. “I’m incredibly curious what that reason is.”

  I tugged on his arm but he only pressed harder.

  “Put your hands behind your back and keep them there,” he said. “Do it and I’ll release you. Scream and I’ll fuck you up, understand?”

  I nodded and slowly let go of his forearm to clasp my hands behind my back.

  “Good girl,” he said, his hand still over my mouth, his gaze traveling down to my chest where my raincoat had fallen open to reveal the simple white blouse I’d worn underneath. The material was a fine cotton and I followed his gaze to where my nipple pushed through the lace of my bra against the too-thin fabric. Casually, he brought the knuckles of one hand to that breast and brushed them over the nipple. I sucked in a breath. He gave me a knowing look, and, without thinking, I grabbed for his forearm again, holding it with all the strength I could muster, warning him not to touch me even though it wasn’t repulsion I felt. It was quite the opposite, in fact.

  He simply grinned, one corner of his mouth curling upward.

  “So you can watch me fuck, but I can’t even touch this pretty little nipple?” he asked, somehow moving his arm so that he now gripped my wrists and pressed them against the wall over my head. He looked at me for a moment while I struggled against his hold, then, with eyes locked on mine, lowered his head to that nipple and closed his mouth over it, moaning as if he were tasting the most delicious thing imaginable.

  I stared, catching my breath as he sucked, his breath hot, his mouth wet. Without any conscious thought, the sensation sent a signal directly to my clit. But when he closed his teeth over the nipple and bit just hard enough, I cried out into his palm, squeezing my eyes shut.

  He straightened then, looking down at the place his mouth had just been, at the wet spot he’d left on my blouse.

  “Very pretty,” he said. “I can’t wait to see how the rest of you tastes.”

  Panic struck, but just as my mind processed what he’d said, there was a sound just outside the door. Two men talking.

  “What the fuck?” the man who held me said. But he didn’t get much more out before we heard the sound of a bullet fired through the silencer of a gun. I would have screamed, but the intruder grabbed me and pulled me to the other side of the bed, pushing me down onto the floor and reaching into his coat pocket to retrieve his own pistol.

  Wood splintered as they busted the door open and the man beside me shoved me under the bed. I knew instinctively to keep quiet. I watched from where I was as two men in suits walked into my room. I had to clamp my hand over my own mouth to keep quiet, tears of panic filling my eyes. These were Jason’s men. I knew it. How could this be happening?

  The men split up and when one approached the bed, the one who’d been waiting for me in my room moved, his weapon ready, a shot fired at close enough range that it was silenced not only by the silencer on the weapon itself but also by the man’s body. A second bullet was fired and this time I did scream as I saw one of the intruders fall to the floor, his eyes still open, his gun just falling out of his hand.

  There was commotion as another shot rang out amid sounds of a struggle and I knew I had to act. As scared as I was, I dragged myself over the dusty floor under the bed and reached for the fallen man’s pistol just as another body landed with a thud. Before I could think, a hand clamped around my ankle and dragged me roughly out from under the bed, a loose spring tearing my coat and scraping my shoulder as I went, a small scream leaving my lips. I didn’t even have a chance to use my weapon — not that I really knew how — because as soon as he saw it, he gripped my wrist and roughly brought it down on the hardwood floor, making me to cry out again at the pain, my weapon clattering to the floor. He pocketed it as he hauled me to my feet and dragged me by the arm to pick up the second weapon. He turned to me for an instant, his eyes fiery as he held his gun at my jaw.

  “I don’t know who the hell those two were, but I just saved your life. Fucking keep quiet or I’ll end it. Understand?”

  I nodded fast, tears blurring my vision. He dragged me to the door, grabbing my purse on the way and tucking the hand that held the pistol into his coat pocket. He walked me down the corridor and toward the side exit, which I knew would trigger an alarm if we opened the door. I hoped at least that if the alarm went off, the police would hear. I knew I couldn’t let this man take me. I had to get away from him somehow.

  We walked quickly through the door that led to the back stairwell and just as it closed behind us, I heard the sound of men running. I couldn’t see them but I knew they were the police. My captor held on to my purse and dragged me down
the stairs with him, righting me when I stumbled, but not once stopping or slowing down, not easing his grip on my arm. He was focused, his gaze hard, unreadable, and when we reached the exit, I realized I was out of luck.

  The alarmed door was propped open by a brick so that all my captor had to do was push it wide enough for us to exit.

  Rain still fell in sheets and we ran toward a waiting vehicle parked at the end of the alley. Opening the driver’s side door, he shoved me inside, forcing me over the gearshift and the parking brake, never once releasing his hold on me until he slapped a handcuff over my wrist and secured me to the door. I watched him, his features tense as he started the car and drove into traffic with the confidence of a local, weaving through cars and driving out of the city and toward the highway.

  Chapter Five

  Julien

  “Mind telling me who the fuck those men were, Mia?” I asked once we’d merged onto the highway and were well on our way out of the city.

  “How do you know my name?”

  I glanced at her, her voice sweet, making her seem younger, the slight tremble of it giving away her fear. I pulled her passport out of my pocket, noting the way her expression changed, then tucked it back into my coat. “Why were two men at your apartment with guns?”

  “Why were you?”

  I grinned at that. “Do you remember what got the kitten killed, Kitten?”

  Her eyes went wide and I had to laugh.

  “It’s cat. It’s what got the cat killed,” she corrected, her voice a whisper.

  I touched her face, then patted her cheek twice and kept my hand there. “Well, I like kitten better. I think it fits.” She jerked her head away, and when she did, I gripped her chin and made her look at me, wiping any hint of joking from my expression. I wasn’t playing a game and she needed to know that. “Tell me what killed the kitten.” When she didn’t answer right away, I squeezed a little, making her flinch.

  “Curiosity.”

  “Good girl.” I let her go and turned my attention back to the road.

  “Did you kill her?” she asked.

  “I think there’s a much more important question you should be asking right now, don’t you?”

  She wiped at a few of her tears with her free hand but kept looking at me. What I saw in her eyes, wasn’t just fear. There was something else there, something more, a darkness, an edge. She was a survivor, like me.

  “Are you going to kill me?”

  “Clever kitten. Well, I can’t leave witnesses behind. It’s not the mark of a good killer, is it?”

  “I won’t tell, I promise. I had the chance and I didn’t say anything.”

  “I know and I find that increasingly curious. Especially after your friends showed up.”

  “They’re not friends.” She turned away, her expression closed off.

  “Who were they then?”

  “If I tell you, will you let me go?”

  “Probably not, no.”

  “Did you do it?”

  “Do what?” I asked, knowing all along what she was asking. She knew the answer, but she needed for me to say it. I exited one highway and merged onto another, taking a toll ticket.

  Fucking Italy. Still used paper tickets to collect tolls.

  “Kill her. Did you kill your girlfriend?”

  The fact that she thought the blonde had been my girlfriend surprised me. “She wasn’t my girlfriend, but yes, I did kill her.”

  “Oh my God,” she started, trying to pull on her cuffed arm. “Oh God…”

  “Relax, Mia. If I wanted you dead, you’d be dead by now, don’t you think?”

  “Then why aren’t I?”

  “Because I’m curious why there was a hit on you.”

  She clammed up again and wouldn’t look at me when she did answer. “I don’t know what you’re talking about.”

  “Not only a peeping Tom, but a liar as well. And a bad one at that.”

  “What are you going to do to me?”

  “That depends.”

  “Can I at least know your name?”

  I looked at her, her question catching me off guard.

  “Julien.” When was the last time I’d told someone my real name? I couldn’t remember.

  She nodded, as if trying to fit the name to the man, but before she could ask anything else, my phone rang. I reached into my pocket and checked the display. It was Ryan.

  “That was reasonably fast,” I said.

  “How’d you run into this one?” Ryan asked.

  That did not sound good. “Why?”

  “What’s the name she’s going by? Mia Andrews?”

  Fuck.

  This wasn’t good. “An alias?”

  “Yep. I’ll need fingerprints to verify, but Mia St. Rose disappeared a couple of years ago.”

  “Disappeared from where?”

  “Philadelphia. Ring a bell, yet?”

  I glanced over at Mia who now watched me.

  “Why don’t you fill me in,” I asked, my eyes remaining on her.

  “Samuel and Jason St. Rose. Remember them? Samuel, the father, was under investigation for money laundering for some pretty bad people, including the Casanov family. Investigation is stalled — I’ll have to look further into that. But Jason is supposed to be serving his fifteen years.”

  I didn’t know much about those pieces of shit, but I knew about the Casanov family.

  “Go on.” It was all coming together.

  “Your girl’s stepbrother was released early for good behavior a few weeks ago.”

  Fucking system. Assholes with money could still manipulate it. But assholes like Samuel and Jason St. Rose were exactly why I had a job.

  “And?” I didn’t care about the St. Roses. I wanted to know about the girl.

  “Stepsister’s testimony had put him away.”

  “What did he allegedly do?”

  “Files are sealed. She was a minor at the time of the crime. Want my guess?”

  The look in Mia’s eyes when I glanced her way was one of panic, of fear, but in the depths of her gaze, there was something else I saw, something I now recognized as shame.

  “No,” I said to Ryan. I could imagine what he’d done to her, but I did not need that confirmation. I couldn’t afford to know.

  “Well, there’s money on her head.” Ryan paused a moment. “Ah, here’s why the investigation stalled out. Turns out there’s a book missing. The ledger from the senior St. Rose’s business. I can only imagine what kind of information is in there. And, even more interesting, Jason St. Rose wants her back. Bad.”

  “How bad?”

  “Quarter of a million dollars bad.”

  “Quarter of a million, huh?” I repeated, glancing at my captive again. “And you’re sure it’s the kid who marked her, not the father?”

  “Not a doubt. Send me something with her prints on them and I’ll confirm if it’s her or not. And if it is her, we have a deal, right?”

  The deal was that I paid Ryan ten percent. It bought trust, and had made Ryan a wealthy man. Just as killing had made me a wealthy man.

  “Deal stands. Just make sure you keep your mouth shut on this one.”

  “I’m offended you have to say that at all.” There was a feigned note of upset in Ryan’s voice that he couldn’t quite pull off. “I thought we were friends.”

  Friends. That was a joke. I didn’t have friends.

  “Shut the fuck up. I’ll send you something tomorrow.”

  I hung up and turned to her. “Looks like I won’t be killing you after all.”

  She opened her mouth to ask a question, then closed it again.

  “Turns out your brother sent those men. You’ve got a quarter of a million dollar bounty on your head. Why is he so anxious to get you back, Mia?”

  She stared, all the color draining from her face. She was more afraid of him than she was of me. Considering she knew what I’d just done, that baffled me.

  “He’s not my brother,” she started
, shifting her gaze out the side window. “Stepbrother. And if you take me to him, I’m dead.”

  Chapter Six

  Mia

  I watched Julien as he drove, but images of him in that hotel room interrupted. His large hands gripped the steering wheel and his expression was serious, his gaze focused on the road ahead. Sitting this close to him, I picked up the subtle scent of aftershave, and more than that. He took up so much space, too much. It was as if he were more real now, more so than when he’d been in that other room separated from me.

  I’d known he was attractive, but this close up, seeing the chiseled bones of his face, the set of his jaw, he looked almost elegant. Not like he’d looked in that room. Not while he’d been…

  He chose that moment to glance my way and I knew I had just turned bright red when I felt the heat of embarrassment spreading across my face.

  “What?” he asked.

  I shook my head. Looks were deceiving. I had to remember that this man was a killer. “Nothing. Where are you taking me?”

  He checked his watch. “We’ll drive a few more hours then get a hotel for the night where you can tell me the bedtime story of your life.”

  I wouldn’t be telling him any stories. He’d be disappointed if he believed that I would. But a hotel was good. At a hotel, there would be people. And if there were people, there was a chance I could escape. My purse, which contained my wallet and some money, was in the backseat, and he had my passport in his pocket. I’d just have to figure out a way to grab that before I ran.

  Julien reached to turn on the radio and sat back to drive, his attention fully on the road now. I studied him, his face in profile. His dark hair was clean-cut and his skin had an olive tone. His jaw was covered in scruff spotted with gray and the set of his mouth was hard, although his lips were quite full and sensual. He actually fit with the Italians in looks, except for his eyes. They were a bright, icy blue. I bet he fooled a lot of women with those eyes, but I’d seen what hid in their depths. I’d seen it when I’d been watching him. I’d seen a cruelty in them, a darkness.

  And I couldn’t explain why that darkness drew me even as it repelled me, scared me to death. The man was a murderer.