Deviant

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Deviant Page 9

by Natasha Knight


  “Nothing says suspicious like a missing body.”

  “Well,” Ryan began, still typing fast. “Police report ruled it an accident. Samuel said she’d had some drinks and they’d had a fight. Always interesting.”

  “That is interesting. How old was she?”

  “Not quite twenty-six. Shame too. She was a looker.”

  “How did she meet Samuel St. Rose anyway?”

  It was quiet while he worked. “Typical. She was a prostitute. High end, but still. Probably met him escorting.”

  “Then he marries her?”

  “I’ll send over a photo,” Ryan said, chuckling.

  “What about money? Did she have any?”

  “A million was transferred to a fund in her name back when she was eighteen. Doesn’t look like she touched it though and”—more typing—”looks like that goes to your girl, unless of course, she doesn’t pick it up. Then it reverts to the St. Rose kids, to Jason and Allison. Split right down the middle.”

  “So, we’re talking five hundred grand each on top of the millions they already have? That’s why he’s got a hit on her?”

  That didn’t make sense. That much money wouldn’t matter to them.

  “Hold on, there’s more.”

  Ryan typed while I listened, tapping my foot, impatient. “What more?”

  “Give me a minute, man. Okay, the dad owned a dry cleaning business. Several, in fact. He was being investigated for laundering money for some pretty bad people, which we knew about. Ah! Holy hell.”

  “Go on.”

  “One of the ledgers went missing a week before Tanya St. Rose’s death. I’m guessing it’s the real one and I’m guessing the St. Roses want it back bad.”

  “That so?”

  This was getting more interesting by the minute.

  “Yep.”

  “Find me what you can about Allison, Ryan.”

  “Will do. When are you delivering Mia?”

  I looked out the window, up at the stairs. I wasn’t going to tell Ryan my plans. Not yet. He’d get his cut, but he didn’t need to know about the change in numbers. “Soon.”

  There was a pause on the other end of the phone, and for the first time in the years I’d known Ryan, that pause made me think.

  “I’ll be in touch soon,” Ryan said finally.

  “Thanks.”

  Ryan was smart, and he thought like a criminal. I’d have to remember the warning I’d given Mia just yesterday. Money was the biggest motivator for most people. That was all there was to it.

  I checked the time. It was almost five in the morning. Now was as good a time as any. Grabbing my jacket, I headed out the front door. Town was quiet, as expected. A partial moon lit the way to the cemetery, but I could have made the walk in the pitch dark. Charlie and I would play there when we were kids. I just never expected him to be a permanent resident of the place, not before me at least. He was my kid brother.

  My grandmother had gotten her shit together after he died. Too little, too late, but at least she flew his body back to be buried in Italian soil with his parents. She was a tough old lady, my grandmother. And smart. She’d liked Mia, said something about her making an honest man out of me. But I shook my head at that. Mia wasn’t my girlfriend. She needed me, and I never turned down the kind of money she was worth. That was all.

  A business arrangement. With benefits.

  The gate creaked as I pushed it open. There were too many old people in Pitigliano. Not enough work to keep the younger ones here aside from tourism, and Pitigliano wasn’t exactly on the beaten path. Which was a good thing as far as I was concerned — but the village would someday die. It wouldn’t happen in my lifetime, but it would happen.

  Walking along the path, I made my way toward the far corner where my family was buried. I hadn’t been here at all since Charlie had been buried. I’d been too pissed off to be anywhere. I’d gotten into drugs and lived on the streets for the first three years. But then I’d gotten smart. I’d started to do what I did so well. I became an assassin.

  The three headstones stood lined up in a row, my mom in the middle, my dad on one side of her and Charlie on the other. I paused and took a deep breath before taking the final steps, pulling out some weeds along my father’s headstone before sitting down against the fence. I just sat there looking at them, not sure I wanted to figure out what I was feeling, picking at the grass instead, just looking at the headstones, reading their names. My parents had been happy. They’d been crazy in love, from what I remembered. We’d been a happy family. If we’d stayed in Italy, none of what happened would have happened. But times were hard, and you needed money to live.

  I looked up at the sky, pushing down the weight that built in my chest. I stayed a while until dawn began to lighten the sky, waking the first of the birds. I may have dozed off, but it didn’t matter. I got up and pulled up three poppies, setting them on each of the headstones.

  I didn’t look back when I walked out of the cemetery. I went to the house and took some money out of my wallet, leaving a note for Mia to go into town and buy what she needed for clothes since I’d destroyed hers.

  Then I lay down on the sofa and closed my eyes.

  Chapter Fourteen

  Mia

  It was a little past ten in the morning when I woke up. I stretched my arms and opened my eyes. It took me a minute before I remembered where I was. And with whom. But a look around the room told me I was alone.

  I’d slept through the night somehow. That hadn’t happened in… well, since I’d been on the run. Last night was the first in a long time. Which was strange considering my housemate was a hit man whose original intent had been to kill me. But he wasn’t going to kill me now. He was going to keep me alive, in fact. The cost would be half of my inheritance — but that piece would be easier to give up than the other — the part that made me question who I was. Why I was reacting the way I was to him.

  What had happened yesterday, what he’d done to me… he’d made me come. He’d whipped me, and he’d made me want him. I’d taken shelter in his arms after he’d punished me. I still felt the residual pain of the whipping when I sat up, a reminder for the next few days, I imagined. What had he said when I had asked him why? He’d wanted to do it? No, he liked doing it. I didn’t understand that.

  I climbed out of bed and picked up my blouse, which was torn. At least he hadn’t ripped apart my jeans. I didn’t have any other clothes with me. I’d have to keep my raincoat on and just buy something new. Walking quietly to the bathroom, I tried to remember how much cash I had left. Problem was, some of it was in my suitcase — which was at the hotel in Cosenza.

  Crap.

  I opened the door to the tiny shower, switching on the water, finding a half bottle of shampoo and conditioner in there. The water spurted at first — the shower probably hadn’t been used in a while — but after a moment, I had hot water. After locating one of the towels Gianna had sent up to us, I climbed into the stall and closed my eyes, enjoying the warm spray.

  Julien had agreed to help me get the money. On the one hand, that was a huge relief. But on the other, it was scary as hell. What would he demand of me in the meantime? What had I agreed to?

  I couldn’t think about that now though. I needed to call Allison to let her know that I was all right, in case she had heard about the men Jason had sent. She would be worried by now. I thought about what Julien had said about her. He didn’t trust her intentions, but that was because of who he was. I had to remember that. He didn’t really know Allison.

  I wish I knew how Jason had found me. I’d thought I was being so careful, but I was naïve. Julien was right, he was better at this than I was. But I wasn’t a criminal like him. Like Jason. I would learn, though, over the next two weeks. I’d learn, and once I got the money, I’d disappear.

  But first, I had to survive the next two weeks.

  The water cooled a little and I switched it off, feeling better after shampooing my hair. I wrapped the t
owel around myself and stepped into the hallway, peering down the stairs into the living room. I saw Julien lying on the couch, asleep. I watched him for a minute, so curious about him, but when he moved a little, I quickly went into the bedroom and closed the door. Pulling on my jeans, I picked up my ruined bra and tossed it into the trashcan. I then slipped on my blouse and tied a knot to hold it together at my belly. It would be a cute way to wear it — if I were twelve. Shaking my head, I picked up my shoes and carried them down the stairs, not wanting to wake Julien.

  In the kitchen, I found my purse along with some money and a note:

  Go into the village and buy some clothes.

  J.

  I supposed this was the closest to an apology I would get from him.

  Slipping my shoes on, I shoved the money into my purse and left the house. The village was small enough that I found my way easily, coming to Gianna’s café first. I checked that I was appropriately buttoned up and walked inside to find Julien’s grandmother talking to one of the men whom I’d met yesterday, but when she saw me, she threw her hands up, beaming at me, chattering loudly in Italian. I couldn’t help but smile back.

  Without asking, she made me a cappuccino and set it in front of me, along with a croissant.

  “Thank you,” I said, picking up the coffee.

  “Where is my grandson?” she asked, making a show of looking around me.

  “Sleeping on the couch.”

  She studied me and I realized I’d perhaps given away too much. I thought back to yesterday, remembering how I’d screamed, embarrassed at the idea she may have heard, that she might know what he’d done to me. But if she did, she didn’t let on. Her clever eyes simply regarded me for a moment.

  “He went to see his family yesterday,” she said, nodding. “About time he is back. He needs to make peace with what happened.”

  “What do you mean he went to see them?”

  “The cemetery. I stop there every morning to speak with them, tell them what’s happening in village.” She waved her hand in the air to dismiss what she was saying. “Old Italian women are strange, Mia. Pay no mind. Tell me how he is, truly,” she asked, with a quick, earnest nod of her head, wanting to draw out any information I could give her.

  “I don’t know. I’m sorry, we haven’t known each other long.” I felt my face flush as I said it, thinking about the circumstances that had brought us together.

  Her dark eyes studied me, waiting.

  “He is angry. I know that much,” I said.

  She nodded, her face growing sadder, her gaze sliding away. “How long will you stay?”

  “A couple of weeks, I think. I’m not sure, really.” I finished the pastry and sipped the last of my coffee. Three customers walked in then and Gianna turned her attention to them.

  “Mia, stay. Help me later?” Gianna asked as she moved back behind the bar. The woman’s eyes seemed to beg me to say yes. “It will be very busy today.”

  “I can help. First, I need to buy some clothes. My suitcase was… lost.”

  Her expression told me she didn’t buy it, but she pointed out the door and to the right. “Go to Myra. She is in main square. Tell her Gianna sent you.”

  “Myra?”

  She nodded.

  “Okay, I’ll be back as soon as I can to help.”

  I reached into my purse to take out my wallet, but she put her hand on mine to stop me. “It is okay, Mia. You are with Julien. You are family.”

  I hesitated, but then thanked her and put my wallet away. She was lonely and I could see she was hurting more than she let on. I imagined it had to do with Julien. I would be back to keep her company, at least. I had nothing else to do anyway.

  Walking out the door, I headed down in the direction of the square which we’d passed on the way into town the day we arrived. While I did, I picked up my phone and, although I knew it would be late, I dialed Allison. I could at least leave her a voice mail.

  But when she picked up after the first ring, I stopped short.

  “Mia?” She sounded frantic.

  “Allison, what is it?” I asked, suddenly panicked.

  “Mia, I heard about the men Jason sent. How did you… are you okay? Where are you?”

  “You heard? How?”

  There was a pause. “Jason came by again. He was pissed, said you killed two of his men.”

  “No, it wasn’t me. It was—”

  You can’t tell her.

  Why was Jason involving her at all in this? He’d accused her at first of taking my side, calling her a traitor to her own blood. But now, he was telling her he’d sent men after me?

  “Mia?”

  “I’m here. I’m sorry. It’s okay, Allison. I’m fine, and I have someone who’s going to help me get the money and disappear where I won’t have to ever worry about Jason again.”

  “Who’s helping you?”

  “It’s a long story.”

  “Can you trust him?”

  “I don’t have a choice, Allison.”

  “I’m worried about you.”

  “Don’t be, it will be fine.”

  “Where are you?”

  I paused, looking up at the wide blue sky. “I can’t tell you, but I’m safe. For now.”

  She sighed deeply. “I won’t tell him. I just want to help.”

  “I know, Allison. I just… it’s safer for you if you don’t know.”

  “Tell me who you’re there with, in case anything happens to you.”

  “Nothing’s going to happen to me. He’ll keep me safe, at least until he gets paid — and he can’t do that until I get the inheritance.”

  “So, you’re paying someone?”

  “Listen, I have to go.” I had to get off before I told her more than I already had. If Jason was now visiting his sister with details of the kidnap plan gone wrong, I couldn’t take a chance on her knowing anything — and I’d already said too much.

  “Stay safe, Mia.”

  “You too, Allison.”

  I hung up the phone and dropped it back into my bag, locating Myra’s shop and heading toward it. There were more tourists in the village today, probably because it was the weekend. When I went into the shop, a pretty, young girl looked up from the counter, her eyes moving over me from head to toe before greeting me.

  “Ciao.”

  “Ciao. Gianna sent me to see… Myra?” I didn’t guess this was a Myra. She definitely didn’t look like I imagined a Myra might look.

  “Myra is my grandmother. I am Angela. She is not here today, but I can help you. Are you the American here with Julien?”

  Although I wasn’t surprised that news spread fast in the tiny village, the way she said what she said grated on me. It wasn’t meant to sound friendly.

  “I am. I’d like a blouse, please.” I looked around the shop, quickly picking out two blouses as well as a pretty white linen dress.

  Angela led me toward a tiny fitting room with hardly a smile on her face.

  “Do you know Julien?” I asked, not sure why I was getting the look of a jealous lover. I certainly wasn’t his lover, not by choice anyway. That was true, right?

  And besides, how would she know him? He’d not been back in years from what I had gathered.

  “Everyone knows of Julien, the prodigal grandson,” Angela said when I came out of the fitting room in the dress. “I saw him last night. Looks nice.”

  I wasn’t sure if she was talking about the dress or Julien.

  She’d seen him last night? He’d gone out for a drink — he’d told me he would. And certainly, he had no obligation to me, but had he…?

  “The dress, or Julien?” I asked without thinking.

  Angela grinned, challenge clear in her eyes. “Both.”

  “I’ll take the dress and the blouses. And some of these.” I picked up several pair of panties along with two bras in my size, and handed them all over to her. “I’ll wear the dress out in fact. How much do I owe you?” I took out the wad of money Julien had
left, which just covered the cost.

  “Thank you, American lady,” she said, her tone cutting.

  I gave her half a smile as I took the bag and walked out, heading back to Gianna’s, fuming by the time I got up there. If Julien wanted to fuck around, that was fine by me.

  But I’d be damned if he was going to fuck me while he was at it. And without a condom.

  * * *

  “Very nice dress,” Gianna said when I walked back into the café.

  That made me smile and I smoothed my hands over the fabric. “Thanks. I also bought these.” Gianna admired the two blouses I held up.

  “Myra does good job,” she said, checking the stitching on one of the blouses. “She makes everything herself.”

  “It wasn’t Myra who helped me.” I wanted to know about Angela. In fact, I couldn’t not ask. “Angela was there.”

  Gianna’s expression changed a little, her lips tightening as she exhaled as if she knew what I was trying to say and she wasn’t surprised by it. “Angela is back for the season to help her old grandmother.”

  “She doesn’t live here?”

  “No, she lives in Rome.”

  “She told me she ran into Julien last night.” I paid extra attention to folding the blouses in order to avoid Gianna’s knowing gaze.

  “She is a child. Twenty, barely.” Gianna shook her head, dismissing her. She then put her hand on my arm so that I looked at her. “My grandson too clever to be distracted by such girls.”

  I nodded, wanting to end this conversation. A conversation I should never have started.

  “What do you need me to do?” I asked, taking the apron she handed me and slipping it on while I looked around behind the counter.

  I spent the afternoon making simple lunches and chatting with the customers who came into Gianna’s café. There were several American tourists and I didn’t realize until after talking to them how much I missed Americans, how much I missed hearing my own accent, talking to people who thought like me. I loved traveling, loved Italy specifically, but here, I was a foreigner, and it felt good to just have a casual conversation in my native tongue and know I was being understood.

 

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