by Tara Brown
But I felt considerably worse. Not about killing the fat man, but because I’d have to kill him. Servario would have to die if I was going to get away. He was fucking insane like his father. And his stories were creepy. And my plan wasn't working.
I washed my face and brushed my teeth with the one toothbrush on the counter I assumed was for me. I rinsed with mouthwash and left sensing the hopelessness of the situation. I slipped the belladonna into my robe pocket.
He was waiting on the couch. I passed him on my way to the bed in the smaller of the two bedrooms I had noticed. I curled into the sheets and closed my eyes. Every inch of me hurt. The weird bathroom-plane sex had more than likely left marks on my back. The second time had made me uncomfortably sore between my legs. The death of the fat man and the loss of my children's safety made my heart heavy.
“Is there a reason you're sleeping in here?” he asked. “There is a huge bed in the master quarters.”
I opened my heavy eyelids to his silhouette in the doorway. I sighed and rolled over. “Sleepy.”
“Fine.” The door closed but he was still in the room. I cringed as he unzipped. I tucked my arm under the pillow and turned my mind off. I refused to let his warm body next to mine be anything beyond a reminder of my predicament, which there was nothing I could do about. I was his for the time being.
I fell asleep, drifting in a blackness. The sleep was toxic and yet healing.
The next morning when I woke I reached across the bed, sensing someone on the far side, as far as he could get from me. I shivered and rolled toward him, almost saying his name but I didn't. I opened one eye and remembered where I was and who I was with.
I wrapped my freezing feet around his calf, making him jump. “What are you doing?” he shouted.
I shivered. “It’s cold in here.”
He gave me an odd expression and then put his arm out for me. He wrapped around me when I rested on it.
Straightaway, his hand took mine and placed it on his huge erection. I sighed. “No.” I hauled it away.
“What?”
“I need to eat. I’m starved.”
He pulled my hand back and began stroking himself with my palm.
I gave him an unimpressed look, earning me a grin. I hadn’t been expecting it. I snorted. “You’re cheerful in the morning.”
His eyes were filled with green flecks. “You’re having a strange effect on me, Evie.”
“Ditto.” I wrapped my hand around his rigid morning wood and squeezed.
9
A silver locket in my pocket
I rolled over and cuddled into him, pulling the covers up and smothering him with my body. His body went rigid and I smiled, realizing that even in his sleep he disliked intimacy.
He wasn’t comfortable with anything but fucking and working, and of course talking about things that made me uncomfortable.
Which was confusing. It didn't make sense that he had intimacy issues but had chosen to sleep in the small bed with me for the past few nights. I thought about that more than my own escape or why he had tried to set me up for killing the fat man.
We had grown closer and closer, my cabin fever lessening with every moment. Three days of the spa-like bathroom, any meal I craved, and ridiculous amounts of sex had changed me.
Something inside was waking up. Like the hibernation of marriage was finally starting to end and the fun, sassy girl I had once been was emerging from her cave.
Of course, I had tried to fight it. I had drugged the shit out of him with the belladonna. Apparently, his reaction to it wasn’t the intended one. He got relaxed and wanted slow, intense sex. I had come to the conclusion he was a magician with his tongue. I blushed just watching him sleep, trying to force myself not to like him, let alone desire him as much as I did.
He stirred and woke, eyeballing me. “You’re like a cat. Do you have to touch me while you sleep? I’m sweating from it.”
“You’re warm and Steve has the damned air conditioning on so high I can see my breath in here.”
He rolled his eyes and sat up, sort of pushing me off him.
I enjoyed watching him squirm.
He pulled his computer onto his lap. “Is breakfast here?”
“I don’t know. I haven’t left the room.”
“Well, you can’t spoon me all night long like a girlfriend and not act like one in the morning. Go see.”
“No,” I protested. “This is my first vacation in forever. Fake or not, I intend on enjoying it. You go get me breakfast. You want to fuck me as much as you possibly can, then you’ll have to start acting like a boyfriend. I want spooning and breakfast in bed. Later, you may read to me.” I chuckled.
He growled and I rolled on top of him some more.
“I'm trying to type,” he grumbled, not bothering to hide the annoyance in his tone.
“Don't care.” I nestled in closer and enjoyed the weird comfort and familiarity we had with one another, regardless of who either of us was. I was getting good at ignoring the sad fact that outside the hotel room I had a life in chaos. Denial was an easier emotion than guilt, or fear, or anything I didn’t want to deal with.
I disregarded the fact his body had been doing bad things to mine since we met, and embraced that I had yet not to enjoy one of them.
Well, that wasn’t entirely true.
The day before, he had demanded a blow job. I’d tried telling him I was shit at them, and besides that, we were in the shower. All those jets and showerheads had nearly drowned me when he grabbed my hair and pushed my face down farther on him.
He didn’t appreciate it when I shoved him back and shouted that I was a wife, not a deep-throating porn star. Thankfully, it had earned me a hard fuck on my hands and knees instead. I struggled and worked at pretending I didn’t like it.
I plucked at the dark hairs on his arms. “So what's the job?” I asked.
He spoke distractedly, “Firstly, you’re going to stop plucking at me like I am a chicken and get me some damned breakfast. Secondly, I am going to fuck you when I’m done sending this email, and then we are going to take a shower. Thirdly, you will then go and kill a man named Derringer and you will do it messily. Fourthly, we will take the jet back to Boston.”
While I fully blocked out the demand that I kill someone else, I argued, “I've already told you, we can't have sex in the morning. I don’t do mornings.”
He pinched the bridge of his nose and closed his eyes. “My God, you have a lot of rules. Why can’t we have morning sex?”
I licked my lips nervously and then just said it, “I can't have it until I've had coffee and a full—bathroom experience. Otherwise, I won't go all day and I’ll have a bloated belly.”
His hand dropped. “Did you just tell me you can't have sex because you need some coffee and Raisin Bran to complete the morning first?”
I nodded.
“Dear God.” He bit his lip and paused. “That’s appalling. You must learn about appropriate sharing and inappropriate sharing. You need boundaries.”
I climbed off the bed, pulled on the sweats I’d made Steve go buy for me, and tied my hair into a messy ponytail. I stretched and yawned. “You’re keeping me here against my will. I am a thirty-six-year-old woman. You can't expect me to be a giggly twenty-year-old who keeps secret the fact she poops and passes gas.”
He grimaced and continued to type on the laptop. “Please tell me you’re not about to start passing gas in front of me, are you?”
I laughed. “No. My mother would beat me if I did that.”
“Thank God for your mother.” He appeared wounded. “You know you’re not here against your will. You may leave, if you want.”
I stopped the act of disgustingly lazy housewife. “What?”
He repeated, “You can leave anytime. You know the deal we have.”
I walked out of the room to where my wristlet was on the table in the foyer. If I stayed, I would have to kill the Derringer man, messily. I needed out. I needed to take
my chances and run.
He called out from the room, “Take with you what you brought. None of the things I've bought for you.”
I eyed the door and exhaled deeply. I pulled off my tee shirt and slipped the sweatpants down my legs. I kicked them to the side. A choking noise behind me drew my attention. I checked back and blushed. “Sorry, Steve.”
He waved me off and gulped back some coffee to wash down whatever he was choking on.
“Thanks for the fun!” I shouted and bolted for the door. I held my wobbly bits and ran past the guards, flinging open the door to the stairs. I had a small purse and a hair tie and my own hands for coverage. My legs sprinted down a flight to where I opened the door to the next floor. I closed it and tiptoed down the next flight. Just in case they were following me, they would think I’d left. I slowly opened the door on the lower floor and knocked on the first door I found.
An elderly lady answered and jumped back.
I blushed, covering my pubis and breasts. “My robe got stuck in my door. My kids are laughing and won't open it.”
She started to snicker and opened the door for me. “Little brats.”
“Thank you.” I stepped inside and closed it, still covering myself. She passed me the robe from her door. I pulled it on. “Little brats is right.”
She laughed. “Oh my. I bet they'll have sore bottoms.”
“Sure will. Do you mind if I call the front desk from your phone?”
She laughed. “Lord no. Use the one in the bathroom.”
I slipped in and pressed 911 on the phone I pulled from my wristlet.
The FaceTime screen came up. “Where are you?” The young man spoke while sipping something that resembled Starbucks. I put my fingers to my lips and winked. “My kids locked me out of the room. Floor 17, Room 1723.”
He nodded and was gone. The code was one Coop and I had agreed on when I left the car in the airport parking in Boston. It meant I was in severe shit and needed an evac immediately. It meant there would be a car waiting at the front door. I would have to find a way to make it there without being spotted and taken back to the room, or worse.
As I left the bathroom I slid the phone back in and thanked her. She chuckled again and walked me out.
Back in the hallway, I ran along the wall to the other set of stairs and opened the door, sprinting down. My bare feet were nearly silent at first but the flights became unbearable. I opened up a door on the tenth floor and ran across the hall. I pressed the elevator button, but ran for the stairs on the other side. I opened the door and ran down the next two fights. I opened the door to the eighth floor and ran for the elevator button. I pressed it and waited. It came almost immediately. When it opened, a young couple of plastic-looking people gave me a confused look. I wrapped the robe tighter and jumped in. I tapped the main floor button and the second and third floor buttons. I gave them a weak look. “My kid got away on me. Made a run for it while I was in the shower. He's playing in the stairwell around the second floor.”
They both smiled and nodded.
I hated how fast my lying had come back. I was a master. Although I had to admit, it was much easier to lie when you had kids. There was so much more to lie about at thirty-six than there was at twenty-four.
When we landed on the third floor, I jumped out and ran for the same exit I had used when I arrived at the hotel. I pulled the door and ran down the last two flights. I kept going the last flight to the parking garage and pressed 911 on the phone.
“Parking garage, top floor!” I shouted and opened the steel door at the bottom of the stairs as I ended the call. I ran across the parking garage in the robe. My feet were officially killing me, but my thundering heartbeat and sick feeling in my stomach pushed me forward.
The slapping sound of my bare feet filled the garage as I searched for the car that would be coming for me. A white car with black windows squealed around the corner. Relief and excitement filled me as I saw his face.
“Evie!” I turned my head back toward the stairwell door as I ran for the car. Servario was huffing at the big door. “What are you doing?”
I turned and edged backward for the car, blocking the view of Coop. “You said I was free.”
He laughed. “Yes, but I also said you had to leave naked. I didn’t think you would.” He let go of the door and neared me. His pants were done up but his shirt was ruffled. He had thrown on his clothes in a panic.
“Guess you don’t know me very well.” I continued to take steps backward to where the car door opened. I prayed Coop wasn’t stupid enough to get out.
“You can't leave. I own you.” He smirked but there was something in his eyes. He knew he didn’t. I had won the game of “Who Framed Evie Evans?” He had nothing on me but my finances.
“You don’t. I know where my kids and mom are, and you have nothing on me for the heart attack the fat man had. Keep the money and the house. I’d rather be free than rich.”
His smile turned dangerous. I was poking the bear who liked to do the poking. “I didn’t mean that kind of own. You're mine. You know that.”
“No.” I stood strong. “You don’t want to love me or that'll end badly for us both.” I stopped when the metal of the car jabbed me in the back. “This is me saving you.”
He looked like I had killed his dog. “Don’t leave.”
I grabbed the door and jumped in and he broke into a sprint. He punched the back of the car as Coop sped away. Coop blew through the gate to pay and skidded along the street, cutting off a wall of traffic. I screamed as trucks were coming for my door. He hit the gas, jerking me back, and joked, “Evie, what did you do to that terrorist? He looks crushed.”
I felt sick. I had the strangest arms-dealer hangover as we drove off. “Nothing.” I whispered from the back seat. “Thanks for coming.”
“I’m gonna get my ass chewed for it, but whatever. You okay?”
“Yup.” I would be, after years of intensive therapy and the possible misuse of prescription drugs.
“He wanted me to kill a man named Derringer today.”
“Derringer?” Coop frowned. “The agent?”
“I don't know.” I shrugged. “If he was then I’m glad I ran.”
“Agreed.” Coop seemed to be deep in thought.
We drove to a safe house in Summerlin, just outside Vegas.
“I don’t want to go to a safe house but Luce and Jack are there. We’ll be on the run after all this if they don’t like that you ran away from Servario.”
“I had to. He wanted me to kill again and he—he was—” How did I explain what he was?
“Want to talk about it?” Coop asked. I noticed his knuckles were cut and bruised.
“What's that?” I pointed at them, changing the subject.
“So no then?” He avoided answering.
“No,” I replied.
He lifted his hand and straightened it. “That’s a bar brawl at a biker bar last night.”
“Why?”
“Got a bit drunk.” He shook his head slowly and kept his eyes on the road. “Just needed to blow off some steam.”
“Teenage hormones can rile you up like that. When you get older, it gets easier, I promise.”
His jaw clenched and his face lost all expression. “I'm not a teenager.”
“If you say so.” I rolled my eyes.
He opened the garage and drove in slowly. He closed it before we got out.
“Did he hurt you?” he asked.
“He didn't. No more than I hurt him.”
“Did you—? Forget it. I don’t wanna know.” He made a weird face and climbed out of the car, storming inside and leaving me. I wasn’t sure what it was that we were about to discuss. Would he get angry because I said yes to everything, as he and my libido had asked me to?
Luce smiled at me when I got inside. She crossed her arms and tilted her head. “Leaves the Bellagio in a robe? You’re going down in history, my friend.” She put her knuckles out for me. I tapped them again, awkwar
dly. She laughed at me. “You’re a crazy woman.”
“A crazy woman who could go for a shower and some clothes, and maybe some oatmeal, or a protein shake. Are any of those things possible? Maybe some therapy?” I asked.
“Absolutely.” She pointed at the kitchen to my right. “Fully stocked, except for the therapist. Jack, you remember Evie?”
The young man who was always on the phone was in the kitchen. I smiled but he gave me an uncertain scowl. “Good afternoon, Mrs. Evans.” He passed by me and I turned back to Luce. She ignored him and followed me into the kitchen. She leaned against the counter as I rifled the cupboards for food, real food.
“What’s his deal?” I asked.
“He's BFFs with Coop. He's pissy ‘cause Coop went psycho yesterday, got drunk and started a fight in a biker bar.”
“Why?”
“He wasn't allowed to come and get you.”
“Me?” I noticed the tinge of blue under her eye. “Because he had to leave me there?” I whispered back.
“Yeah. We were all upset. We figured you’d be in and out of the hotel. We didn’t get told you were staying there. Coop went a little snaky.”
“Join the club.”
She folded her arms. “We wanted to evac you two days ago but upstairs wouldn’t hear of it. Coop made the call and they said we were not to interfere. They were letting it ride. You were not to leave under any circumstances until you had information on the Burrow. Coop’s gonna make the call now and tell them we had no choice.”
“I don’t even work for them and they're whoring me out.” I was horrified. "And Servario is never going to tell me about the Burrow."
She continued, “Coop went off, almost lost the mission to someone who could remain detached. You being there in the hotel had no bearing on the mission. They know Servario isn't going to spill the Burrows info in front if you.”
I leaned on the counter. “They left me in there on purpose? They made me stay there for three days? It had no bearing on the mission? I don’t even understand why they made me do any of it. Servario doesn’t trust me, and he sure as shit doesn’t have anything on me. What was the fucking point?” My voice rose above a whisper.