FREAKS

by Hart, Callie

  He turned a devilishly smug smile on me. “Do I get to fuck you while we’re in the air?”

  “Of course.”

  “In that case, anything for my queen.”

  FIFTEEN

  SERA

  The city looked like it was on fire as the plane touched down. The sky was burning gold, orange, and scarlet, bruised a deep purple on the horizon where the night was drawing in. How long had it been since I was here? A month? Five weeks at most. It felt like I’d been gone for a lifetime. So much had happened. So many hurdles and obstacles thrown in my way. Everything had changed the night of that storm, where I'd found myself trapped in that dingy motel room with a man I did not know.

  Now I felt like I didn't know myself anymore. Something had changed so irrevocably inside me since that night in Liberty Fields that I knew I’d never be the same version of myself again. And the truth was, I didn't even know if I would ever want to be that person again. I'd been so set in my ways, following a routine day in and day out. Coming to work, meeting with clients. Attending meetings, then coming home, eating dinner, hanging out with Sadie. Years had passed, and nothing had changed. It would be safe to fall back into that life, but if the past month with Felix had taught me anything, it was that safe didn't always mean happy.

  I'd slept some on the plane, drifting into a state of dreamless unconsciousness, but Felix had sat alert and rigid next to me the entire time, refusing to close his eyes. I got the impression he hadn't been on a plane in a very, very long time, which made sense given that traveling by air wasn't exactly easy for him. He’d used a fake ID to board the plane, one of many I'm sure he kept on his person at all times, but I could see by the sharp, irritated flashing in his eyes that the experience had been a troubling one.

  We left the airport, collected our bags and headed out to find a cab. I was plagued by nerves as we approached the city center, nearing my apartment. Technically, I was going home. But home was no longer a collection of rooms, filled with books and clothes. It was the man sitting next to me, holding my hand. I was anxious as we climbed the stairs up to the third floor.

  My building was so old it didn't even have an elevator, which made me feel weirdly embarrassed. Felix's penthouse in New York was beautiful. Everything was new, everything was shiny, everything was so distinctly him. When I'd left to attend Amy's wedding, I'd been in a hurry. I'd left the place in a state, my shoes strewn all over the entryway, papers left stacked all over the dining table. I was pretty sure I’d left dirty dishes in the sink and by now the jungle of plants dotted around the place were probably all dead. Not ideal.

  What would my life here look like to him? Small? Average? So very underwhelming? I couldn't help but feel like he was going to judge me the moment he saw the place in such disarray. That was stupid, I knew I was being stupid, but I still couldn't shake it. Felix had put up with me rotating through the same seven sets of clothes for the last month and he hadn't blinked an eyelid. Why would he care that I hadn't been able to tidy up before I'd thrown my bags into my rental and fled the city?

  I braced myself as I slid the key into the lock and opened the front door, cringing at the prospect of the mess we were about to face. Fix caught me up, wrapping his arms around my waist and holding me to him before I had the chance to step inside.

  "Just fucking relax," he said, breathing into my ear. "You're wound up so fucking tight, you're gonna snap any second now.” I could literally hear him smirking from behind me. “You got a weird china cat collection in there or something?”

  “I hate cats,” I replied.

  “Creepy dolls then? Stuffed toys? Are there posters of Hanson all over your bedroom walls?”

  I laughed despite myself. “The most embarrassing thing you'll find in here is a bunch of dead Peace Lilies and a half-eaten bowl of cereal on the kitchen counter.”

  “Well, then. Quit freaking out. Take a deep fucking breath and let's get inside. There's a weird old man staring at me right now and he's making me fucking nervous.”

  I glanced down the hallway to find Mr. Conroy in 12B peering through his cracked doorway. I waved to him, and the grumpy old bastard scowled so deeply it looked like he was sucking on a lemon. “Been strange people hovering outside that door for weeks, Sera Lafferty,” he groused. “This is s’posed to be a quiet building.” Giving Fix a pointed glare, he shook his head, his tufty white hair bobbing comically. “And no guests after nine,” he sniped.

  “That’s not a rule, Julian. We can have guests whenever we like, and you know it. Now go back inside before I tell Rhonda you were being a dick.”

  “Who the fuck’s Rhonda?” Fix hissed.

  I tried not to smirk as I hurried inside the apartment, pulling Fix along behind me. “Rhonda’s his nurse. He’s kind of terrified of her, but she’s the sweetest.”

  “She probably beats him with a paddle behind closed doors. Poor fucker.”

  I stifled a laugh as I wormed my way out of his arms, trying to scoot through the apartment before him so I could assess the damage. There were no shoes in the hallway, though. The throws had been straightened on the couch, the TV remotes placed carefully side by side on the arm. In the kitchen, the bowl I could have sworn I’d left sitting out was nowhere to be seen, and as for the house plants…

  They were all alive and, frankly, looking better than they had when I’d left them.

  Weird, but whatever. Obviously, my memory was playing tricks on me. I dumped my bag on the dining table. My hair had grown long enough to tie back over the past few weeks. I undid it, releasing it from the small ponytail I could now manage, shaking it out, sighing with relief.

  “You’ll feel even better if you take your bra off, too,” Fix rumbled. “And if you’re planning on taking that off, I don’t see why you shouldn’t just take everything else off, too.”

  “You just want to see my boobs.”

  “And?”

  “And we’ve been on the road all day. I feel gross. I need a shower.”

  Fix shook his head. “You’re not gross. You’re sexy as fuck. I want to bury my head between your legs right fucking now. You’re telling me you don’t want that?”

  The prospect was mighty appealing, but I had plane all over me, and I was pretty certain I smelled fucking disgusting. “I am showering,” I insisted. “I didn’t say you weren’t allowed to join me, though.”

  “Now that sounds amazing.”

  Sex in the shower with Fix. Holy shit, sex in the shower with Fix would be a whole new experience that would likely cause bathing to become an addiction. He stalked toward me, looking up at me from beneath his brows, a salacious tilt to his mouth. “I’m going to soap up your tits. I’m going to wash every inch of you. Your chest, your back, your thighs. Between your legs…” He lowered his mouth, so that it was hovering over mine, little more than hair’s breadth away. “And when you’re all soapy, and you’re whimpering and pleading in my ear, pleading for my fingers, and my tongue, and my cock, I’m going to bend you over, and I’m going to sli—”

  He stopped, his sentence hanging in the air. His head picked up, his eyes glinting like chips of ice under the light cast off from the lamp by the table.

  “What is it?”

  “There’s someone outside the front door.”

  “How the hell can you possibly know that? We’re two rooms away from the—”

  He held up his hand, cutting me off. He’d gone from turned on to on guard in less time than it would have taken me to blink. “Go to the kitchen. Get a knife. Wait there until I tell you it’s safe,” he commanded.

  “Fix, you’re being crazy.” Man, being on the run since Wyoming had made him paranoid. But…then I heard it, too. A rustling, rummaging sound and then another sound, like metal scraping on metal. “Fuck.”

  Fix hadn’t been able to fly with a gun. He didn’t have a single weapon on him, but he bolted toward the front door regardless, silent as a ghost, a deadly look on his face. My pulse began to thunder, pounding in my ears. I
’d been so fucking stupid. I’d wanted to believe that this was all over so badly, that I’d managed to convince myself of it. I’d dreamed of being safe so much that I’d allowed myself to become complacent. Running into the kitchen, I did what Fix had told me to do, grabbing a knife from the block on the counter.

  The front door opened.

  A series of loud bangs rang out, echoing through the hallway. I waited for the sounds of a struggle.

  Waited…

  And waited…

  They never came. My head was spinning so hard. I was going to throw up. Oh god, I really was. What the fuck was happening?

  I resisted the urge to step out into the hallway to find out for myself. Fix had said he’d call when it was safe, and he hadn’t called…

  Stay put, Sera. Do not fucking move. Do not fucking move. I clutched the knife to my chest.

  And then—

  A loud thumping sound and a string of violent curse words. “What the fuck are you doing here?” a female voice cried.

  Oh shit! I dropped the knife back on the counter, and I ran from the kitchen out into the hall, my legs threatening to go out from underneath me. God, I hoped he hadn’t hurt her. “Fix, it’s okay! It’s okay! It’s Sadie! She has a key!”

  How could I have been so stupid?

  In front of the open doorway, Fix was standing in front of my friend, fist raised, ready to punch her squarely in the face. I threw myself at him, grabbing his arm, relief singing through me when I realized she was okay.

  Sadie’s mouth fell open. Her eyes doubled in size, and she promptly dropped the bottle she was holding. It shattered on the hardwood flooring, a pool of ruby red wine spraying all over the place.

  “Oh—oh my god,” she said, holding her hand to her chest. “You guys…you fucking scared me.” I stepped over the mess at her feet and threw my arms around her neck, hugging the shit out of her. She hugged me back, laughing nervously into my hair. “Shit, I’m sorry, Ser. I made a mess.”

  “It’s totally fine. I’m just so happy to see you. I had no idea you were coming over.”

  “I didn’t know you were going to be here, either. I just…I figured I’d bring over a bottle of wine for you, so you could have a glass whenever you finally got back.” She untangled herself from me, holding me at arm’s length so she could get a proper look at me. “I didn’t hear from you. I was worried out of my mind. You look great, though,” she said, shaking her head as she smiled. “Really, really great. That extended vacation obviously did you the world of good.”

  “Ha! Something like that. Sadie, this is Felix,” I said, stepping to one side so he could meet her. “Felix, this is Sadie.”

  “Nice to finally meet you.” He offered her his hand. “Sorry about the…y’know. For nearly knocking your front teeth out.”

  She’d turned a brilliant shade of scarlet. “That’s okay. It’s fine. Really.” Her arm pumped up and down as Fix shook it. Sadie volleyed a confused look back and forth between me and Fix. The shock of being faced with a deranged six-foot-four man, ready to launch himself at her, was obviously still having an effect on her. “I’m afraid I haven’t heard a word about you, Felix. Sera, you’ve been keeping secrets,” she chided.

  “I’m sorry. I—” Where did I even begin? The events that had taken place since I left for Amy’s wedding were so monumentally huge that I didn’t know which point to start at. And then I realized…I couldn’t tell her most of it. I couldn’t. If she knew how I’d come to be traveling with Fix, if she knew what he did for work, it would not end well. She was a fiercely logical, straight forward person. Telling her Fix was a hitman would only land him in jail. She’d call the cops immediately, if only because she thought she was doing the right thing to keep me safe.

  “I kind of disappeared off the map there. I’m so fucking sorry. I’ll tell you all about it over a glass of wine, though.”

  Fix cleared his throat, giving me a subtle that’s-really-not-a-good-idea look. I returned one that clearly told him I knew what I was doing. We were getting pretty good at the whole communicating without talking thing. “All right,” he said. “Well, I’m going to the store to grab some essentials. You guys probably need a good catch up. I’m assuming there’s nothing in your fridge. Looks like you need a new bottle of wine, too. I won’t be long.”

  I wanted to keep him here with me, to not let him out of my sight. He hadn’t left me alone for days. Felt weird for him to be going somewhere without me now. Good god, girl. Get a fucking grip. He’s going to the store, not outer space.

  Besides, he looked uncomfortable as all get-out, probably unnerved by the prospect of two women giggling and chatting together like school girls, which explained his desire to make a sharp exit. “Thanks. Maybe make it two bottles.” I winked at him, and he winked back.

  A part of me swooned and died.

  God, he was so fucking hot.

  Fix patted his jeans pockets, checking to make sure he had his wallet, and then he left, giving me a lopsided smile as he closed the apartment door behind himself. I was still staring at the closed door when Sadie clicked her fingers in front of my face, trying to get my attention.

  “Okay,” she said, a wide grin taking up most of her face. “You have got some serious explaining to do, young lady. Who…” She shook her head, screwing her eyes shut, holding up an index finger. “No. What was that? I have no idea how you managed to convince that walking sex god to come home with you.”

  “Geez, thanks!”

  “I’m serious,” she said, laughing. “When I turned around just now and saw him coming at me like a fucking MMA fighter on crack, I sent up a prayer and thanked the universe that the angel of death was the sexiest thing I had ever seen. I swear, if he had just killed me, I really wouldn’t have even been that mad about it.”

  I kept my laughter light and happy, but boy was it hard. Sadie’s joke was ridiculously close to the truth; Fix kind of was the angel of death. I poked my tongue out at her. “Personally, I think he’s lucky to have scored me.”

  She wrapped her arm around my shoulders, leaning her head against mine as we walked into the kitchen. “I know, babe. You’re a hottie, too. But Jesus fucking Christ. Those eyes…”

  ******

  I told her as much as I could without telling her the truth, which felt terrible and so, so wrong. I made up some bullshit story about meeting Fix at Amy’s wedding instead of at the motel from hell, and when I explained to her that I’d extended my trip and stayed on, traveling through Virginia, Pennsylvania, and then to New York with him, she teased me, prodding me in the side, making fun of how I apparently ‘went all starry eyed’ whenever I said his name.

  Did mentioning Fix’s name put stars in my eyes? It was weird to hear things like that. I’d had no real time to process the fact that I’d, against all the odds, fallen in love with someone. It felt wrong to even acknowledge that I had fallen at all.

  Fix had been gone for twenty minutes when I got up from the dining table and told Sadie I needed a moment to freshen up. “I was about to jump in the shower when you got here. I feel so nasty. I’m just gonna wash my face and my hands real quick.”

  “Please. I don’t mind at all. Take a shower. I’m sure lover boy’ll be back with the booze by the time you get out.”

  Lover boy.

  Ha.

  I made sure the water was piping hot before I climbed into the shower. The pressure was super high, striping layers of skin from my body as I stood under the powerful stream. So freaking good. I felt like a new born baby by the time I climbed out and wrapped a towel around me.

  Shit. I should have brought clean clothes into the bathroom with me. I leaned over the bathtub, squeezing the excess water out of my hair, and then I brushed my teeth until I didn’t feel like something had crawled into my mouth and died anymore. The blast of air that hit me when I stepped out into the hallway was cool and refreshing. “Just gonna get dressed, Sads,” I called out.

  No answer. She was probably rifl
ing through the cupboards, hunting for something to eat; the girl was always hungry. I paused in the hallway to pick up her bag. The loud thumping sound I’d heard when I was stupidly clutching that knife in my hand, waiting for Fix’s all-clear must have been her dropping it to the ground. The large, tan, leather record bag was beaten and worn from years of heavy use. Sadie had been carrying the thing around with her since the day I’d met her, which was to say a very long time. A notebook and a sheaf of papers had half-slid out of the bag and onto the floor. I gathered them up, about to push them back inside, when something caught my eye.

  Strange…

  It was a foot. The bridge of a foot, drawn in startling detail. I pinched the paper that was poking out of Sadie’s notebook and carefully tugged on it, my forehead creasing with confusion as more and more of the drawing became visible. It was Sadie, but a younger version of herself. She was sitting on the floor, legs bent, knees drawn up to her chest, her arms folded and stacked, her chin nestled into the crook of her left arm, as if she were trying to hide. And, most worryingly of all, she was naked.

  The curve of her breasts had been drawn with exaggerated care, and between her bent legs, the dark fuzz of pubic hair had been drawn in, disguising the outline of her vagina. How old would she have been in this picture? Thirteen? Fourteen? Way too young to have posed in a such a strangely sexual, vulnerable position. I frowned, my throat closing up by the second as I stared at the drawing, trying not to jump to conclusions. But it was hard. So fucking hard. Because I recognized the use of crosshatching in the figure’s shadow. I’d seen the loose, messy stroke technique that made up Sadie’s hair once before.

  Whoever had drawn this…was the same person who had drawn those incredibly graphic images of me. The ones Fix had found in the bunker back in Centralia.

  My hand began to shake.

  Surely Sadie…

  Fuck. There was no way Sadie had drawn them. She would never have drawn a picture of herself like this. There was just no way. Sadie was so straight-laced, it was hard to imagine her even making out with a guy, let alone going further with him. She was not a hyper sexual person. She wouldn’t have even commissioned someone to do a portrait of her like this.