Deviant

by Natasha Knight

  “I’m not confusing anything, Julien—”

  “Oh no?” I leaned in toward her. “Then it must be me.”

  “Why are you being such a jerk?”

  “Because that’s what I am, Mia. A jerk. And it would be smart for you to remember that.”

  “You keep telling me what I should do, what I should think. Well, don’t worry. I got the message and I won’t forget it. Besides, maybe I’m the one who should remind you of your place in this. I hired you. You work for me, asshole!”

  Shoving my chair from the table, I got to my feet, picking up the notebook in one hand and dragging Mia up by the other.

  “What are you doing?” She tried to push my hand off her, but she wasn’t strong enough. Not nearly.

  Other patrons looked at us but I ignored them as we walked toward the restrooms, taking the key from the counter as we passed it and going into the men’s room.

  “Get your jeans down and bend over,” I told her after locking the door.

  “No! You’re fucking insane or bipolar or something with all your fucking mood swings!”

  “I have to admit,” I said, gripping her arm again and undoing her jeans with the other hand. “I like it when you fight me.”

  She struggled, making it hard to yank the tight jeans off. “Stop! You’re crazy. People will hear.”

  “You should have thought of that before.” I switched on the fan to muffle any sound and turned her, forcing her to bend over the sink and yanking her jeans down over her hips.

  “I hate you.”

  I wanted to say that it didn’t matter. That all that mattered was the fact that I was the one keeping her alive. But I didn’t because it did fucking matter. I pushed her panties down and undid my jeans, one hand pressing between her shoulder blades even though she’d stopped struggling. I wasn’t even hard, hating what I was about to do, hating myself for it. But I had no fucking choice. She needed to see who I was. What I was. It would make things easier later.

  I rubbed my cock against her pussy, and slowly pushed inside, forcing myself to look at her only to find her watching me in the mirror. Those eyes, those fucking eyes, even now, even given what I was doing to her, inside them wasn’t the hate that I expected. That I fucking deserved.

  I pulled out and gripped a handful of hair, tugging her head backwards, hurting her. I forced myself to watch her as I fucked her, made myself look at the hurt in her eyes, wanting to make her hate me. Needing to make her hate me.

  Just a few thrusts. It was all it took. She squeezed her eyes shut when I fisted that handful of hair as I neared my climax, closing my own eyes. Coming.

  This was fucked up. I was fucked up.

  I loosened my grip and opened my eyes, meeting my own reflection in the mirror. If I’d had any hope of redemption before, it was gone now. Gone as Mia’s body went limp. She could never forgive me this. I knew it.

  And I hated myself for it.

  “Julien.”

  My vision blurred and I quickly swiped the back of my hand over my eyes before looking at her. I pulled out and tucked myself back into my jeans, all the while memorizing those eyes, the look in them. Because what I saw wasn’t what I expected. What I deserved. I pulled her upright and turned her to face me, unable to look away, because there, reflected back, was me. Not as I was. Not as I saw myself. But as she saw me.

  She held onto hope. She still clung to it like a fucking life raft in the middle of the ocean. But the truth was, there was no hope. Not for me. I wasn’t good and I certainly wasn’t good enough — not for her. I’d known it all along, but seeing her now, after the way I’d been treating her, after what I’d just done to her, she was ready to forgive me. She desperately wanted for me to be good.

  But I wasn’t.

  I wrapped my hand around the back of her little neck. Christ, she was so fragile. I could snap it in a second. Anyone could.

  I brought my forehead to hers. I couldn’t stop looking at those eyes, at the hope there, the promise of something I didn’t deserve, not in this lifetime. Probably not in the next either, if there was such a thing as Karma.

  I held her like that for a long time. Her hands came up along my back, and she pulled me closer, smearing tears across her cheek and mine. I wasn’t sure whose they were anymore.

  “I’m sorry.” My voice cracked as I made my pathetic apology, but she only pulled me closer and held me.

  A knock interrupted us, but I ignored it, holding her tighter. But when it came again, I cleared my throat and straightened, releasing her and reaching for the door.

  “Get yourself together. We leave in two minutes.”

  Chapter Twenty-Two

  Mia

  I didn’t know what it was, what was going on in his head. Even when he seemed to be angry with me, even when he said he was showing me my place, I knew he was angry with himself, was trying to keep me at arm’s length because maybe, just maybe, he couldn’t trust himself. Julien had feelings for me — he had to. What we’d shared, it couldn’t be one-sided. And all I could think was that he was acting in the only way he knew how: he was pushing me away because he couldn’t handle those feelings.

  I’d thought he would kiss me. If he’d kissed me, it would have made all the difference. He wouldn’t be able to hide then. I wouldn’t let him. I’d be strong enough for the both of us, if that’s what it took.

  In the time we’d been together, I felt like I knew more about him than anyone else in the world. He had trusted me enough to tell me about his brother. I saw the pain, the guilt he felt over Charlie’s death, and, perhaps subconsciously, he’d wanted me to see it. He’d wanted, or maybe even needed, to share that pain. In a way, we’d found a kindred spirit in each other, he in me, and me in him. Our guilt and our pain connected us.

  Someone knocked on the door again.

  “Just a minute.”

  I pulled my panties and jeans up, and splashed water on my face. I could forgive him so much, if only he’d let me. I finally admitted it to myself as I hurriedly cleaned up, the gravity, the meaning of it stunning me.

  I loved Julien.

  It made no sense — none of this did — but I had fallen in love with him when that had been the farthest thing from my mind. I knew when it was too, down to the very moment I knew I loved him. It was when he’d made that dinner for us after I’d told him about Jason. After he’d held me and I’d wept like I hadn’t wept in too long, not even at my sister’s memorial. Things had shifted between us that night. And I couldn’t be the only one who felt that. I just couldn’t.

  Taking a deep breath, I pulled the door open. The man who’d knocked raised his eyebrows and I remembered Julien had taken us to the men’s room. I didn’t care though, and as I walked, I determined not to look at anyone. Even as I felt eyes on me, I only concentrated on Julien’s deep blue ones, those dark, haunted eyes that held mine as I made my way to our table.

  “I wrapped up your sandwich,” Julien said.

  “Thanks.” I shoved it into my purse though I had no intention of eating it.

  “Ready?” he asked, his tone tender and quiet. Something had changed.

  I nodded and he rose to his feet. This time, he didn’t take my arm like he had earlier. Instead, he folded his big hand around mine, and even though he struggled to meet my gaze, there was something in the way he held me. Perhaps words he wasn’t able to say, perhaps just guilt. It didn’t matter. All that mattered was the way he held on to me now.

  Like this, we walked to the car and drove in silence to the airport.

  * * *

  The flight to Philadelphia was full. Julien had booked first-class seats, which was good as it gave us privacy, even though something told me we wouldn’t be talking much. In fact, Julien closed his eyes as soon as we sat down. He wasn’t asleep, I could tell that, but I could also tell he didn’t want to talk.

  I was anxious. I was due to pick up the money soon, which meant whatever was going to happen was going to happen then. The more I tho
ught of it, the more I knew neither Jason nor his dad would miss the opportunity to see me. If it were up to me, that would be their last chance because if this succeeded, if I got that money, I was disappearing for good. I trusted that Julien could keep me safe. If anyone could, it would be him. But I didn’t want to underestimate the St. Roses — and that ledger was worrisome. I wondered if Tanya hadn’t stolen it if they would have let me be, forgotten me by now. That million couldn’t matter to them, not with the amounts I knew they had.

  Julien stirred beside me. “I’m going to run to the restroom. Stay here.”

  “Okay.” Where would I go? I shrugged a shoulder and turned the page on the magazine that sat open on my lap, the one I’d picked up but hadn’t really looked at. It hadn’t been a moment since he’d been gone that a sound from his seat caught my attention and I saw that he’d left his phone there. It had probably slid out of his back pocket when he sat down.

  I picked it up, intending to give it to him when he returned and wanting to make sure he didn’t sit on it. I hadn’t planned on reading the message on the screen:

 

  What?

  I looked up to make sure he was still in the bathroom and opened the email to read the previous messages. What I saw chilled me to the bone.

  Julien had a new job and that job… was me. He’d been hired to deliver me along with the ledger to Samuel St. Rose.

  I heard Julien’s voice then and saw he was talking to one of the flight attendants. Quickly glancing at the date of the mail, I set the phone back on his seat and focused my attention on the magazine on my lap. I tried to smile when he sat back down, but it was almost impossible. Even looking at him hurt me.

  All I could see was betrayal, finally understanding why he’d been acting like he had.

  And he was right. I was a fool.

  Julien scrolled through some screens and I assumed he was going through his e-mail. He read without any expression on his face and the only thing I saw when he looked back at me was the smallest suggestion of regret, but even that was quickly wiped away.

  I knew that he was my enemy now. He was going to deliver me to Samuel and Jason. Even if he had been planning on helping me at first, Samuel had doubled the money I had offered, taking me out of the game altogether.

  I closed the magazine and turned to look out the window as the attendants closed the aircraft door. Resting my head against the seat, I closed my eyes, trying to process, trying to figure out what I was going to do next. I was on my own. Completely. And there was only one person I could reach out to, even if Julien didn’t trust her, even if he’d tried to cast doubt on her.

  It was Allison.

  Now that I knew whose side Julien was really on, it vindicated Allison in my eyes. For a moment, my mind tried to do the same for him, erase the guilt that belonged to him, but I wouldn’t allow it. Not even when I thought about how he’d changed toward me. How he’d been so caring, even loving — before that email.

  I shook my head, banishing those thoughts.

  I was finished being a gullible fool. He was an assassin, a hired gun. And I’d now become his next target.

  I had just eight hours to plan my escape from him because I knew now I was no longer his to protect. I was his prisoner, and he was a mercenary. He’d chosen the highest bidder, even knowing what Jason had done to me. At least I knew where I stood now. That had to mean something, even if my chest hurt a little at the betrayal I felt.

  * * *

  Once we landed, we moved quickly through the immigration line using the automated passport check. I didn’t know Julien’s last name. He’d never told it to me, and a peek at his passport didn’t answer any questions because there by a photo of him wearing a pair of dark rimmed glasses. The name listed was David Sullivan.

  He caught my puzzled look and smiled. “Ready, honey?”

  “Yep.” I smiled right back. Everything about this man was a lie. He was a lie.

  Once we were cleared via the machines, an agent collected the printout and gave us both a once over before sending us through without a problem.

  I wondered if Julien was nervous at all. On the outside, he smiled and looked relaxed. He even slipped on the glasses from the photo which made him look a little older, but no less handsome. I didn’t want to find him handsome though. I wanted to hate him. To remember what he was, what he was going to do.

  He kept the ledger in a black leather backpack he carried and I eyed it while we waited for the one bag we’d checked. It was nearly empty but it would have looked suspicious if we’d come without checked luggage, so we’d brought it along.

  “What now?” I asked.

  “We’ll go to the hotel for the night. See the city. Have a nice dinner.”

  My last supper.

  “And then?”

  He flashed that dark little grin, the one that made my belly flutter, made my heart race at the anticipation of things to come.

  As if sensing what he was doing to me, he stepped close, a hand coming to cup the back of my head. “And then we fuck.” His breath at my ear made me shudder. “Or we can skip all of it and get right to the fucking.”

  At my look, Julien laughed and pulled me close. “There’s our bag.”

  I didn’t understand this, didn’t understand him. He was the perfect Judas. He would betray me easily, even with a kiss, as though what had happened in that bathroom in Rome hadn’t happened at all.

  I watched him as he moved through the crowd gathered at the luggage carousel. People got out of Julien’s way, always. He easily picked up the bag, keeping the backpack on his shoulder all along. He brushed the hair back from his face and gestured to me.

  “Come, Mia.”

  I went obediently, his hand at my back as we easily passed through customs, handing in one more form to a final agent before making our way out to the waiting taxis. The late afternoon sky was muggy as usual in this city, and the old smells and sounds were something I hadn’t missed. In fact, being there only made me want to leave.

  Philadelphia held bad memories for me.

  Climbing into a cab, Julien told the driver the name of the hotel and turned to me. “Your sister’s memorial is here, isn’t it?”

  The question caught me off guard, but I nodded.

  “Do you want to go see it?”

  This might be my one opportunity to make an escape, even though I wasn’t sure I did want to go. It wasn’t like she was there. “Maybe, but on my own.”

  I needed to get that ledger. I had a plan. If all went well with the attorney, I would leave it for Samuel. If not, well, I’d hand it over myself — a show of good faith — and ask him to leave me alone. To keep his son away from me. The thought that it might be Jason waiting for me there was one I couldn’t entertain.

  But it turned out it didn’t matter anyway because Julien shook his head.

  “No way. We’ll be stuck like glue until those papers are signed.”

  “Why? No one knows I’m back, right?”

  What was I doing? I did not need him to suspect that I knew, that I’d read his email.

  “I’m not willing to take any chances. They found you in Italy. Twice.”

  “Are you sure that second time was about me? I mean, haven’t you made some enemies?” I left out the ‘in your line of work’, remembering what that had gotten me the last time.

  “Not possible. I’m invisible.”

  “That’s right, David Sullivan.”

  “Something wrong?” he asked. “You seem on edge.”

  I looked out the window as we drove into the city. It was just as I remembered it: noisy, dirty and busy, full of cars and people.

  “Just anxious.”

  “We’ll take care of that anxiety in a minute.” His hand settled on my leg, moving up along my inner thigh.

  I looked at it, then caught the eye of the driver on us in the rear view mirror. I put my hand on top of Julien’s. “Stop.” I tried t
o pull his hand off, but he gripped my thigh when I did, hurting me.

  “I’ll stop when I’m ready to stop.”

  It was like a showdown. I glared, wanting to scream at him, to shake him, ask him what he was thinking. But I didn’t, and he won in the end. When I dropped my gaze, he released my leg.

  “We’re here,” Julien said.

  The driver turned off at the Marriott. Julien climbed out, grabbing the backpack as he did, and paid the driver. I waited while they unloaded our bag and then followed Julien inside, yawning. I was tired. I’d not slept more than an hour or two on the flight, and wanted a shower and a comfortable bed.

  I watched Julien as he checked us in, realizing I’d be sharing the bed with him.

  The front desk agent handed over a package, and, taking our keys, Julien gestured for me to go ahead. We took the elevator up to our room on the seventeenth floor, a large but unremarkable room with one king size bed.

  Julien set down the suitcase and the backpack.

  “What’s in the box?” I asked.

  He smiled at me and opened it, taking out a black revolver similar to the one he’d had in Italy.

  “Can’t travel with these, so I had one delivered.”

  Checking on what I assumed was the ammunition, he set the pistol down casually and went over to the window to take in the view. I joined him. This was how I liked the city: dusk bathing it in its eerie glow. It was the only way I liked it. Without sound, people and cars and trucks all moved like ants below us. Julien took hold of my hand, intertwining his fingers with mine. I looked at it, this tender gesture, but he kept his gaze out the window.

  I didn’t understand this man. Was it regret? Was it the knowledge that soon, he would deliver me to those who would harm me? Would he leave me at their mercy? Could he?

  I slid my hand out of his. “I’m going to have a shower.”

  He turned to me. If he knew something was up, he didn’t give it away. But he was a man used to reading people, to watching them for the slightest changes in behavior.