Unhinged

by Natasha Knight

  When I look at her, she starts to cry again.

  “I killed him,” she mutters.

  “No. You didn’t.” But he is going to die.

  I turn back to the man, squat down, take hold of his face, close his nose, his mouth. He doesn’t struggle. He can’t. I give it another few minutes, and this time, when I check his pulse, it’s gone. I turn to her.

  “I killed him,” she says again.

  “No, you didn’t. I did.”

  She’s confused, but there’s relief in her eyes.

  I stand and go to her, noticing the photographs that litter the floor. My photographs.

  She saw them.

  She wasn’t meant to see them.

  I take the pistol from her hand and wipe her face, smearing blood across her cheek as I push her hair back and cup her head. Her eyes are puffy and red and she’s trembling and cold. I pull her into my chest and she lets me, tucking her arms between us and letting me hold her.

  “I shouldn’t have left you here alone.”

  She says something, but I can’t make out the words. When I draw back to look at her, I see her eyes bouncing from the body to me and back. I have to get her out of here, but how the hell did anyone know we were here? Who is this guy? Who sent him? And what the hell did he want?

  “Let’s get you cleaned up,” I say, lifting her in my arms as I stand and carry her into the bathroom.

  I set her down in the shower and start it, not caring that I’m still dressed and getting soaked as water splashes off my back. A steady rust-colored stream comes off her as I strip off her bra and panties, let them drop to the floor.

  “He had a key,” she says. She’s mumbling. “He broke the chain. I was…”

  She looks up at me.

  “You were what?”

  She shakes her head. “I thought it was you.”

  “I’m sorry. Christ, I’m sorry. I shouldn’t have left you alone here.”

  “He worked for Malik. I’ve seen him before. The night of the auction.”

  I search her eyes. I know it’s true. I know Malik knows we’re here. It’s stupid for me to think otherwise. He has eyes and ears everywhere. I know it.

  “What are we going to do?” she asks.

  “I’m going to get you out of here.”

  When I let her go, she sinks down onto the small bench in the shower. We don’t talk as I wash her hair, her body. I’m scrubbing her like I can scrub away the stain of a killing. “I almost murdered someone.”

  “Self-defense is different than murder, and besides, you didn’t kill him. I told you. I did.”

  She’s not hearing me. She’s stuck in her head. “I shot him.”

  “Look at me.” She doesn’t. I force her face up. “He’s not worth your guilt. He was here to hurt you. If you hadn’t shot him, he would have killed you.”

  Her face scrunches up, and I can see she’s trying hard to hold herself together.

  “Eve. You did the right thing. Okay?”

  She blinks, wipes her nose with the back of her hand. Nods. It’s not very convincing, but we’ll deal with this later. Right now, I have to get her out of here. I switch off the water and stand back to look at her. She’s looking straight ahead but her eyes tell me she’s far, far away.

  “Come on, let me get you dressed.” I grab a towel and wrap her in it, then lift her back up in my arms. Instead of taking her into the bedroom though, I put the lid of the toilet down and set her on it. I then go into the bedroom myself to get her something to wear. There isn’t much to choose from. Blood’s splattered on everything. But I find her a dress and some underthings and get myself a change of clothes too. After changing out of my wet outfit, I dry and dress her, even brush her hair into a ponytail.

  “I’ll get what I can salvage. Stay here for a minute.”

  She grabs my arm when I turn. “Don’t leave me here. Don’t leave me alone.”

  “I won’t. I promise.”

  She releases me, eventually, and I go into the bedroom. I want to pack my photographs, moving the dead body to get them all, even those splattered with his death. I set them in my duffel, then put any clean things of hers inside it too. After that, I search the man and take his pistol which is still in its holster. He knew she’d be alone. They must have been watching us. Waiting for a vulnerable moment. But was he here to kill her? Kidnap her? Use her to get to me? Malik had kept her alive for two years, knowing I’d go after her. But why? He knew I saw him that night. Did he know I recognized him? Why not kill me? Or did he think I’d died?

  No. Makes no sense.

  He had to know I survived. And he had to know I’d go after her once I learned she too had survived. But why? Why all the trouble? Was I truly so well protected at Hassan’s that he didn’t know where I was? Couldn’t find me?

  I check the dead man’s pockets but don’t find any ID. I do find a cell phone, though. I take it and the pistol, tuck both into my duffel bag and return to the bathroom to collect Eve. No way to clean this up, no time.

  “Come on, Eve. We have to go.” I pick her up, but she stands on her own.

  “I can walk. I’m okay.”

  “Look at me. Just keep looking at me when we walk through the room.”

  She nods and turns her face into my chest. I wrap an arm around her and walk her out of the hotel room, closing the door behind us, hanging the Do Not Disturb sign on the doorknob. I make eye contact with every single person on our way out to the car, and I hope if they are spies, they carry back a warning to Malik. I’m coming for him. And this time, I’m going to get it right. This time, I’ll be sure to put the bullet between his eyes.

  I take her to the only place I can. It takes us over an hour to get to it, and I’m not sure we’ll be welcome, but I have no choice. I pull through the overgrowth of trees that hang over the long road leading to Dr. Hassan’s ancient home. The stone walls come into view after about another mile, but it’s almost night and the property is modestly lit. A truck and two cars, all older models, are parked outside. Those I recognize. It’s the stroller sitting beside the front door that takes me by surprise.

  The headlights of my car shine into the downstairs window. I slow to a stop, hearing the hum of insects once the crunching of gravel beneath the tires ceases.

  “Whose house is this?” Eve asks from beside me.

  “Dr. Anthony Hassan and his family.”

  “He’s the man who saved your life. And his son, the one you’ve had contact with.”

  “Yes. And his daughter.” I don’t look at Eve. I haven’t mentioned Julia before. It wasn’t that I was hiding it, just wasn’t important.

  “Daughter?”

  “Julia.” My eyes are still on the house and I see movement inside. “Stay here until I tell you,” I say to Eve as the front door opens.

  I get out of the car and walk toward the dark entryway, wondering if Hassan’s recognized me. He steps outside a moment later, still no smile on his face, eyes intent on mine.

  “Doctor,” I say.

  His glance shifts momentarily to the car. He won’t be able to make out Eve’s face, but he’ll see her outline there.

  “Who is it?” I hear Julia’s voice. When she comes around the corner, I see she’s holding a baby on her hip. I’m taken aback.

  She stops too, and surprise registers on her face.

  Hassan puts an arm out to stop her from coming farther.

  “Zach?” she asks.

  I look at the older man’s face. I’m trying to read what’s in his eyes. “Go inside,” Hassan says to her without ever taking his eyes from mine.

  I’m confused. I’ve kept in touch with Ace. Why didn’t he mention the baby? And why this cool reception? I drag my eyes from the baby.

  “But—” Julia starts.

  “Go.” His word is final. I know it, and so does she. Julia gives me one last glance and retreats into the house.

  “What are you doing here?” Hassan asks.

  “I need your help.”<
br />
  He looks to the car again. “It’s not safe here. Not for you. Not for my family.”

  “You helped me once. I hope you’ll help me again.”

  I hear the car door open and close and Eve’s footsteps as she approaches. But I don’t turn to her. It’s Hassan I’m watching as she comes into view.

  He recognizes her.

  The baby’s cry breaks into whatever it is that’s going on out here, and Hassan steps to me. “You weren’t followed?”

  “No.”

  He casts a wary glance at Eve.

  “Get her inside.”

  Eve looks to me for the okay. I nod, and with a hand at her back, walk her into the house.

  I look around, remembering the place, although it feels smaller now. I realize I’d forgotten the smell. Old. But the house is old. Ancient. Hassan and Ace had built onto the existing structure. I touch the original, rough stone wall of the hallway as we make our way to the kitchen situated at the back of the house. The light is on and I can see Julia. Her back is to us, and the baby is at her breast. A woman I don’t know is pouring hot water into a teapot. Hassan goes to her and says something in a near whisper, taking the pot out of her hands. She glances at us, nods, then leaves the room. Once she’s gone, Hassan invites us to sit down. We do.

  “Who was that?” I ask, realizing how widely I mistrust people. Even the man who saved my life. But something is wrong. Off.

  “Housekeeper. She doesn’t need to know our business.”

  “Suzanna’s trustworthy,” Julia mutters to him, unlatching the now-sleeping baby and adjusting her dress before facing me. “You’ve recovered well.” She smiles, but there’s something in it that’s strange. That I don’t understand.

  “Thanks to your family.” I can feel Eve’s eyes on me. On us. “Congratulations,” I say, gesturing to the child.

  She smiles and brushes her fingertips over the wisps of dark hair on the baby’s head. “This is Hope. The new boss of the house.”

  I can see from the corner of my eye that Hassan is tense. I think Julia was trying to make a joke of it, but there’s an awkwardness to it. Hope opens big caramel-colored eyes that catch mine. A moment later, they’re closed again.

  “She’s beautiful,” Eve says.

  Julia looks up at her, no emotion passing over her features as she studies Eve. “Thank you.”

  “This is Eve El-Amin.” I turn to Hassan. “But I think you know that.”

  He doesn’t deny it. “Julia, take the child to bed,” he says without looking at her.

  “Father—”

  He turns to her and the tenderness with which he looked at her before has changed. Hardened. “I said go.”

  She rises, gives me a look, ignores Eve and kisses her father’s cheek before leaving the room. We listen to her footsteps as she climbs the stairs, and Hassan doesn’t speak until the door closes.

  “It’s dangerous for my family for you to have come. To have brought her.” Hassan’s eyes are on me when he speaks and I feel the hostility he feels for Eve. He’s the one who had told me she’d survived. That she was the only one who had. But now I’m wondering how he had known.

  “I had no choice. We had an intruder in our hotel room today. They came while Eve was alone.”

  He glances at her, but returns his gaze to mine quickly. “I told you when you left, you couldn’t come back, Zach.”

  “Like I said, I had no choice. I owe you and your family my life, and I don’t mean you any harm.” It’s like there’s an elephant in the room, but no one will mention it. “We just need a safe place tonight.” I choose my words carefully. “I’ll be gone tomorrow.”

  He’s studying me, and I know he has as many questions as me.

  “Have you been in touch with my son?”

  I nod once. I’m not going to lie to him.

  He sighs deeply and rises to stand. From one of the kitchen drawers, he returns with a key in his hand. “Take the girl to the cottage. You remember where it is?”

  “Yes.” I stand, relieved.

  He nods, then sits back down. I know he’ll be waiting here for me to come back.

  Eve’s watching us when I turn to her. “Let’s go,” I say. She rises and follows me out the front door. I lead the way around the property to the small cottage. It looks like a shed, a ruined shed, but it’s not. It’s where I slept for five months in a coma. Where I healed after that. I unlock the door and switch on the light. It’s a bare lightbulb hanging from the middle of the ceiling. Eve walks in, looks around.

  “It’s basic, but we’ll have everything we need and it’s clean.”

  “Why didn’t you ever mention Julia?” she asks when I come back out.

  I meet her eyes. “There wasn’t anything to mention.”

  She studies me. “How long ago did you leave here?”

  She’s doing the math. I am too.

  “You feeling better?” I ask, ignoring her question.

  She nods.

  “Good.” I draw her to me, pull the dress off her, kiss her mouth. I walk her backward to the bed, but when her hands reach for the hem of my T-shirt, I catch them. Drag them to the sides. “Why don’t you lie down?” I say.

  “You’re not staying, are you?”

  “Lie down, Eve.”

  “Are you going to see her?”

  I’m halfway across the room, but stop and turn. “Her?” I know full well who she means, but honestly, this isn’t any of her business.

  She folds her arms across her chest and thrusts one hip to the side. “Julia.”

  I walk back toward her, stand close enough that our bodies touch. My chest to hers. “Do I need to tie you to the bed?”

  “The handcuffs are in your duffel bag.”

  “I can be creative.”

  “I bet.”

  I reach behind her and unhook her bra, slowly slide it off her arms. Then, locking my gaze on hers, I reach for her panties and drag them off her hips. They drop to the floor.

  Her eyes have gone darker. I see it even in the dim light. She’s aroused. Exactly how I want her. I push her to sit on the bed, then lean down, forcing her to lie down. Her legs are spread. I’m standing between them. She watches me as I look to her pussy. I dip my head down and inhale deeply, then lick the length of her slit.

  Eve’s breath hitches and I lean up on one arm while hooking two fingers in her cunt and my thumb over her clit.

  “Be a good girl. Stay wet for me. And when I get back, I’ll let you sit on my face and I’ll lick your pussy until you come.”

  She swallows, tries to kiss me, but I pull back and quickly flip her over on her belly and smack her ass. “Be a bad girl and I’ll spank your ass, then have you suck my cock until you choke on my cum. All while your tight little pussy aches for it.”

  I tear my eyes away from her perfect ass blemished only by the pink print of my hand, and look up to meet her eyes.

  “Got it?” I ask.

  “Got it,” she says.

  “Good.”

  I walk to the door and don’t turn around. “Do I need to lock it?” I ask.

  “No.”

  With a nod, I walk out, and enter the house through the back door. Hassan is waiting for me in the kitchen. He’s got a bottle of whiskey and two glasses, one of which he drains before pouring another.

  “Exactly how old is Hope?”

  16

  Zach

  “Sit down,” Hassan says.

  I sit.

  He studies my face for a long minute. I study him back. Hassan was always intense. He had to be. I always thought it was because he was taking a chance with me. Saving my life put him in danger. Put his family in danger.

  I pick up my glass and drain it. It’s good. I need this.

  “Three months,” Hassan answers my earlier question and keeps his eyes on me as I do the math.

  Relief floods through me. If she’s three months old, it means she was conceived after I left.

  Hope isn’t mine.
<
br />   “But I know you disrespected me with my daughter in my own house.”

  At that, I look at the ground and it takes me a moment before I can look at him. “I’m sorry.” I am. He’s right. He took me in, saved my life, and I fucked his daughter right here on this kitchen table.

  He nods. An acknowledgment. Nothing more.

  “How did you know about the blast? You said you’d heard it, but Malik would have made sure no one was around for miles.” How hadn’t I asked this question before?

  “I knew because I was told.”

  I’m surprised by his response, his honesty. “Told?”

  He nods again. Drinks. Pours another.

  “Tell me about your history with Malik,” he says.

  “He used to be the commander of my battalion. Special ops. US military. His name was Maliki Remi. Commander Maliki Remi. When I first met him, he was a sort of mentor to me. Helped me when I needed help. Gave me purpose. Distraction from my own troubles. I’ve told you about my family.”

  “Go on.”

  “There was an informant in our ranks though. A small group of us were tasked with finding the traitor. Commander Remi led that operation himself.” Hassan fades from my vision as I travel back in time to that night, hearing myself retell the story as if it isn’t me speaking at all.

  “I was there that night. I’d found evidence on one of our men. A friend of mine. Robert Hastings. Commander Remi wanted to question him alone. I knew it would get ugly. We’d been questioning him for two days and he hadn’t cracked. But it wasn’t protocol that he be in there alone, and it didn’t sit right with me. Not when the screams started.”

  I blink, my eyes warm. Hassan comes back into view.

  “If I hadn’t gone in there, he would have gotten away with it. He must not have heard me over Hastings’ screams, but I heard him. Heard what he said as he touched the cattle prod to an open wound. I just stood there at first. Like a fucking idiot. Hastings was naked. Bleeding. Covered in bruises. He’d pissed himself. Remi had left him to stand in his own piss.”

  I rub my mouth with my hand, my chin. My vision is blurring again. I take the bottle of whiskey and drink three long swallows directly from it.