by J. Saman
“I think that’s my cue to leave.”
“I’ll walk you down.” Jake takes my hand. “I need to talk to you,” he says to Maddox, the playfulness of the moment swallowed by a dose of harsh reality encased in a meaningful tone.
“That’s why I’m here.”
Jake nods, leading me to the elevator. He kisses me the entire ride down, one hand on my lower back, the other in my hair. He walks me, hand in hand, to the other elevators and then proceeds to get in with me to ride up to my floor. I don’t question him. He’s walking me home, I realize. He’s showing me last night wasn’t just sex. Is it possible to fall harder for someone already? I meant what I said. I’m terrified of this thing between us. I just wish it didn’t feel too perfect to stop.
We kiss goodbye at my door, his lips brushing across mine. And when I release my breath on a sigh, he does it again. “So goddamn sweet,” he whispers against me and I shudder. “I’ll see you later, Sunshine. Have a good shift.”
He releases my face, throws me a wink, and then walks off, back down the hall to the elevator, leaving me standing here wondering how to keep him out when he’s already in. I enter my room, secure no one is here, and then I shower off a night of desert winds and hot sex. I shouldn’t be smiling as much as I am. I shouldn’t be as excited to see him again later as I am. And I should not be addicted to this…feeling. God, this feeling. I don’t think I’ve ever felt this wonderful in my life.
I change into my whore outfit and then I get to work. I am not a great waitress. I forget orders and I spill more than I should, and sometimes I’m slow when I need to be fast. But I’m learning, and thus far, people are nice enough about the things I get wrong.
My shift goes quickly, mostly because it’s non-stop brunch-goers, desperate to get their huge breakfasts after a night of too little sleep and too much partying. Once two o’clock hits and the restaurant winds down—it closes at two-thirty until dinner time—I press my body into the cool subway tile wall of the back room and close my eyes for a beat. I’m tired. I haven’t had nearly enough sleep since I set foot in this town.
For a girl with no formal education who has never worked a day in her life, I feel like I’m getting by okay. The skillset I was taught would have been better served for a lady in society—ballroom dancing lessons, proper manners, and table etiquette. I’m fluent in four languages besides English. But I’ve never cooked a meal in my life. I’ve never washed a dish—until this morning—and last night was the first time I’d ever been in a real grocery store.
And I’m ashamed of this.
It’s disgraceful, not to mention embarrassing as hell. If it weren’t for Maddox, I doubt I would have gotten either of the jobs I have. And yeah, I did lie a little bit on the applications. I didn’t exactly have a choice. No one would ever hire a person like me otherwise. Fiona Foss knows how to exist in her world, but Mia Jones seems to be just a bit fucked in hers.
“Mia,” Julien, my boss and the owner of this restaurant startles me out of my quiet moment. I open my eyes and pivot my head to him. He’s a nice man. Older. French. He likes to swear under his breath in French because he doesn’t think anyone understands him, but I do. “You finished?”
I nod.
“Get your things, but there is one customer sitting, sipping his coffee. You can go after he leaves.”
I glance over at the round clock on the wall. Two-twenty-five. He has got to be kidding me. I don’t say anything, though. No complaints leave my mouth as I straighten my spine, offer Julien a weak smile and then head out into the dining room that is completely empty save for one person. Well, one man, who has his back to me as I approach.
I set down my backpack by the hostess stand, two seats away from him. I open my mouth to speak, to ask him if he’d like more coffee, but my voice lodges in the back of my throat as I finally catch sight of the man waiting on me. Brent. His green eyes find mine and he smiles playfully, taking in the ridiculous costume that never fails to humiliate me. “Good morning, beautiful. Miss me?”
“What are you doing here?” My voice comes out as a breathy whisper and I hate that. I hate how easily I come unglued around this man. He raises an unnaturally high level of fear in me in comparison to our easy back and forth. But something is not right with him. It’s never felt right.
“Relax.” He holds a hand up, that smile slipping a notch like he knows just how close to the edge I am. “I’m not the bad guy in your story. I might have come on a little too strong before, but women generally tend to like me.”
“I don’t doubt it.” I raise an eyebrow, crossing my arms over my chest, feigning composure. He needs to get the freaking point already.
His eyes sparkle with mischief and maybe a touch of astonishment. I blush instantly, realizing the way that sounded. “Yeah? I knew you found me attractive.”
I shrug. “You can be charming when you want to be.” He leans forward, and I hold up my hand to stop him from getting closer.
He nods with a shrug that says, I had to try. “I can’t believe your boyfriend lets you work in that.” He whistles through his teeth.
“What I wear and where I work is no one’s business but mine.”
“Well then…” He grins, and I blanch before I can stop it. “Trouble in paradise?”
“What do you want, Brent? Why are you back?” I remember him telling me he comes here a lot for business. But all his card said was his name, personal contractor, and a phone number. That was it.
“I never left.”
I suck in a rush of air and step back, bumping into the table behind me. “Why haven’t you left? You told me you were leaving.”
“I couldn’t leave this town without you,” he says simply, his voice completely sober.
I don’t know why I wasn’t expecting that answer, given the person and his relentless pursuit laced with veiled threats, but I didn’t.
“But my question is, why do you look like you’re skipping town?”
I furrow my eyebrows, trying to play dumb, knowing I’m not even close to pulling it off. “I’m not skipping town,” I sorta lie. I’m still undecided.
Brent’s attention slowly, deliberately, drifts to my backpack sitting on the floor.
“Does he know?”
My eyes narrow and my posture turns wooden. “Jake is none of your business.”
He grins. “No, beautiful, he’s not. But you are, and I don’t like you putting yourself at risk.”
My eyes widen and my mouth pops open. I want to ask him why I’m his business, but I don’t. Instead, I go with something safer. “How do you figure I’m doing that?”
He picks up his coffee mug and takes a sip, his eyes never wavering from mine. I swear there’s an amused grin there. “Well,” he starts, setting his mug back down and licking his lips.
He’s gearing up, I realize. Setting the stage and building suspense. I fucking hate suspense. It never ends well for the blonde in the story. Though, I guess I’m technically not a blonde anymore.
“You walk around carrying a bag that’s bigger than you are. That bag is never far from your person, which tells me you’re not exactly a permanent resident anywhere, and I’d wager being separated from it for any length of time makes you uneasy. Am I right?”
“Who are you?” I know Brent is not who he claims to be. His observation skills are more astute than the average flirtatious asshole. He’s been in this town for weeks and every single night I’ve worked at the bar—except for the last week I thought he was gone—he’s been there. He’s not some businessman here for work. He’s here for me. He has to be. Nothing else adds up or makes sense.
But from what angle?
FBI? Hired mercenary? I have a guess and that’s what terrifies me most about him.
“I’m a friend,” he says warmly. Earnestly. “Someone you can trust. Someone who will look out for you if you let them.”
I shake my head, letting out a torrent of frustrated air, losing my patience quickly. “Who says I�
�m looking for that?”
Brent’s features soften further as he reaches out a hand for me. I pull mine back, but he leaves his hand there, so close to me that I’m finding it difficult to think clearly as an all-too familiar panic ensues. I wish he didn’t look like this. I wish he wasn’t gorgeous and charming, while challenging every survival instinct I’ve ever acquired.
“You’re afraid of me touching you,” he states, and my eyes climb up to his. “I saw it that first night when Jake touched you and you flinched. I think you’re over that small problem now, though.”
“What the hell are you doing here?”
“Aren’t you really asking if I came here for you? Because if you are, the answer is yes.”
“I—” I stutter, looking around the restaurant. No one is here. It’s completely empty and now that I focus on it, there are no sounds coming from the prep area or the kitchen. My head whips in the other direction and the doors are closed.
My heart begins to race, thrumming through my ears. I can’t think as everything begins to dip and sway. My stomach rolls and I feel like I’m going to be sick. He’s here for me. I knew it all along, and yet, I fought my instincts. I fought my better judgement and now he’s either going to kill me or take me back to Niklas. Probably the latter, because I am worthless dead.
He’s talking, watching me closely, but I can’t hear anything he’s saying. It’s just noise that echoes through my skull like the blades of a helicopter going around and around.
“Sit down, Fiona.”
Fiona. He called me Fiona. His voice finally breaks through my panic and I take a step back again, stumbling just before my knees give out on me and I fall toward the ground.
“Hey now,” he says, flying out of his chair just in time to catch me.
I fight him. My senses finally kick in and I attack with everything I have. I slap his face and I scratch his arms, and I kick, screaming as loud as I can. His hand covers my mouth and he picks me up, dragging me to the back of the seating area away from the glass doors of the restaurant where any curious onlookers might see.
“Stop fighting,” he growls when I bite the hand covering my mouth, but his grip on me does not relent. I thrash, doing everything in my power to get away, but he’s big and strong and I am so very small and outmatched.
Sobs wrack my body, shaking me down to my very core.
“I’m not going to hurt you,” he barks. “I’m not. I swear to you. But you have to calm down because I need to talk to you and I need you coherent for that. Can you do that? Can you calm the motherfuck down or am I going to have to sedate you and try this again later?” Sedate me? My stomach rolls and my body retches, dry heaving against his hand. He twists me around, shaking my shoulders and locking eyes with me from inches away. “I. Am. Not. Going. To. Hurt. You.” He enunciates each word with so much force my sobs turn into tears and then I collapse against him, my head pressing into his chest as I let go. I should have left last night. Last week. The one before that. Why did I stay so long?
“If you’re not here to hurt me, then you’re here to take me back to him.”
He lets out a loud sigh. Like he’s tired. Like this is all just too much for him and he wants it to be over. “That’s what I’m hired to do, yes.”
I shake my head against him, pulling back and slapping his face as hard as I can, savoring the sting in my palm and fingers. His cheek reddens, but he doesn’t flinch, and he doesn’t retaliate. “I’d rather die,” I spit, my soul bleeding out. “I mean it.” I pull back and meet his eyes, letting him see my tears and my anguish and my determination. “That last time Niklas beat me, when he nearly killed me, and I woke up alone on my bedroom floor in a pool of my own blood and vomit with broken ribs and an unrecognizable face, I promised myself he would never do that to me again. That I would get away from him, but if I couldn’t, then I’d die. I’d take my life and my money and Foss with me. I’d leave him to fight probate against a note and pictures to prove his abuse.” His features harden, and I can’t determine what that look is supposed to mean.
“Sit down with me, Fiona. Let’s talk.”
I do sit down, but only because I can no longer stand. I need to formulate a plan and I need to hear exactly what he has to stay before I know what has to be done. What my options are.
“How did you find me?” I ask before he can launch into whatever he’s about to tell me. I can’t make the same mistake again.
He grins, and that expression just make me so much angrier than I think I’ve ever been. It’s like he’s mocking me. Like I’m this stupid little girl who doesn’t know how to escape without being found by the bad guys. I don’t, but who needs that reminder in the form of a smug smirk when the proof of that is sitting across from me.
“Your car.”
I blow out a breath and lean back in my seat.
“You had it towed to a shop owned by a man I’ve done business with in the past and when I was putting out feelers for your whereabouts, hoping to get some leads, he got in touch.”
I nod. I don’t know how to navigate that one. I forgot all about the car. Jake mentioned he had it towed, but by that point, I had already abandoned it and when Jake told me what he had done with it, Brent was already in front of me. I guess tow-truck guys can be on the shady side of life, so vetting them out to see which mercenary they’ve worked with and which they haven’t isn’t exactly an option. I highly doubt Jake had any clue what he was bringing down on me when he had it towed to that guy’s shop.
Mercenary. That’s what Brent is. I may not be worldly, but I do know a hired killer when I see one. I just wish I had put it together before now. He didn’t dress the part then the way he is now, and he had that business card and all that charm going for him.
He’s good, I realize. Knows how to work his mark.
“I take it Niklas knows I’m here in Las Vegas. Is he here already or are you supposed to take me back to Texas?”
Brent—I bet a million dollars that’s not his real name—leans back in his seat, much the way I’m doing, and folds his arms across his chest. He’s in all black. Black t-shirt and black jeans and black boots. If he weren’t so good looking, large, and powerful, you’d miss him. You’d look past him as just another man. But he’s not, and his handsome features might just be his biggest weakness.
“Niklas does not know you’re here. I never told him I found you.”
I stare at him, blinking a couple of times because it feels like I’m missing something here.
“I found you, Fiona. It only took a couple of weeks, but I did find you. And when I found you, I watched you. I watched you for two days before I ever approached you in the bar. What I saw when I watched you is why I haven’t told Niklas I’ve found you. I told him I was close. That I had some leads, but that you’re moving on from place to place quickly and efficiently.”
“Why would you do that?” I ask, my bewildered tone so very light.
“Because it didn’t take a genius to see you were much more than a rich girl who ran out on her husband. Niklas told me you were spoiled. That you were entitled. That you wanted more power and possessions and he was trying to reign you in. That you didn’t like the life he was giving you and this was your way of protesting. It was quite possibly the biggest bullshit story I have ever heard, which was why I took the case in the first place. Niklas is not your standard guy. I know this better than most. And this is not my typical job. I don’t do missing people.”
“No. You just make them go missing,” I hiss out and then shut my mouth. I have no idea why I just said that, but he doesn’t look angered by my harsh accusation.
He grins and nods his head slowly, watching my reaction to his non-verbal confirmation of his profession.
I blow out a breath, running my finger along the edge of the butcher-block table.
“Rich girls who run off and throw tantrums don’t sleep outside. They don’t avoid eye contact and they don’t jump anytime someone, particularly men, come near the
m. They also don’t work two jobs, dressed in basically nothing to earn pocket money.”
I snort out indignantly. “So, you figured out my bastard husband beat me. Good for you. Now what?”
A chuckle rumbles up the back of his throat. Rubbing a hand across his lightly stubbled jaw, he leans against the table, closing the distance between us by half. “I’m not the only one he hired to find you, beautiful.”
I gasp, my eyes reflexively searching around the restaurant like someone else is going to pop out at any moment.
“They’re not here. I made waves in a few different places to make it appear like you could be there. But it’s only a matter of time, Fiona. I found you and they will, too.”
I shake my head, my eyes narrowing and my eyebrows pinching together. “Why would you do that?”
“Because I may be a lot of things, but I do not tolerate violence against women. Ever. Not under any circumstances.”
“But—”
“I’m a killer?”
I nod as he finishes my statement, swallowing down the lump in my throat. He laughs, reaching out to run his fingers across my cheek. I let him. I might be too confused and terrified to stop him.
“I’m not what you think. If you make it to my list, chances are, you’ve done something very bad to put yourself there. I rid the world of the bad, but not necessarily in the name of good. Don’t confuse the two. Don’t confuse this. I have my reasons and my reasons are all that matter.”
“Is that supposed to make me feel better?”
“No, Fiona. Because the world is better off without the people I rid it of. But you? You are not one of those people. Even though I was simply hired to find you and bring you back to Niklas, I knew what I would be taking you back to and I won’t let that happen.”
Tears well up in the backs of my eyes and I swallow, pushing down my useless emotion. “So, you’re going to…help me?” I shake my head. “I don’t understand.”
Brent gives me that million-dollar grin. The one he’s given me every time I’ve seen him in the bar. “Like I said, we need to talk.”