Deviant

by Natasha Knight

Contrary to what some believed, I didn’t enjoy killing people — at least not the ones who didn’t deserve to die. But I didn’t know enough about Mia St. Rose to say what the hell she deserved. My belt across her ass for spying, maybe, but that was far from death.

  I was about to leave the café when I saw the waiter return to her table and pick up the check. In her rush, she’d forgotten to pay. The waiter was shaking his head, muttering some words under his breath.

  “How much does she owe?” I asked.

  The waiter looked up at me, surprised. I took the check from his hand and handed him a bill that would more than cover her. Then, before I even acknowledged his thanks, I left the café and followed the hurried sound of her clicking heels. I took my time though, held back far enough to conceal my presence. There was no reason for me to chase her. I knew where she was going¸ and I didn’t intend on introducing myself. Not yet, anyway. After I’d finished with the blonde earlier that evening, I’d figured out which room belonged to Mia and picked the lock — a ridiculously easy thing to do at many of the older, cheaper properties in the city — and figured out who she was.

  When I rounded the next corner, she was almost back at the hotel. I ducked into the shadows of a building a moment before she turned to look over her shoulder, scanning the quiet street before disappearing inside. I had an uncanny feeling I may have been just one of the things she was looking out for.

  But I didn’t have time to think about that when my cell phone buzzed to life. Sighing, I turned the corner before pulling the phone out of my pocket. There was no need to look at the display. I knew who the caller was.

  “It’s almost one in the morning.” I did not want to have this conversation now.

  “I have a watch, Julien. Why the fuck isn’t it done?” my contact said, a man I’d never met, whom I knew simply as “Cash.” He sounded pissed.

  “I ran into a difficulty. It’ll be done tomorrow.” Honestly, I had planned on finishing it tonight, but for some reason, I liked the idea of my little voyeur watching and had wanted to see her face one more time, wanted to watch those eyes.

  “You thinking with your dick again?”

  Bastard was right, but I wasn’t about to admit it. “Fuck you. I said I’d get it done.”

  “What kind of difficulty?”

  “Nothing I can’t manage.” I wondered if he heard my hesitation.

  His silence told me he had. “No witnesses. You know the deal.”

  Yes, I knew the deal. The blonde had to die. She was a traitor, and treason warranted a penalty of death. It was just more of a sure thing to call in a guy like him to make certain justice was served rather than going through the court system.

  “It’ll be done within twenty-four hours.”

  “See that it is,” Cash finished, disconnecting the call.

  Just as well.

  I turned to walk back to my hotel, reaching into my pocket for a cigarette. I lit it up and took one drag before tossing it onto the street. I’d been trying to quit for over a year now. No fucking discipline when it came to nicotine though. That and fucking. They were my two addictions. At least fucking was healthy.

  I pulled my phone back out of my pocket and dialed Ryan. Even as the phone rang, I wasn’t sure why I was doing it.

  “Yeah,” came his usual greeting.

  “It’s Julien.”

  “That’s why I answered the phone.”

  I almost smiled. Ryan was young, in his early twenties, and cocky as hell, but he did a good job and he did it quietly — as long as he got paid. Fuck him with a payment though, and your shit was all over the six o’clock news.

  “I need you to find out what you can about a Mia St. Rose.” I pulled out the passport I’d stolen from her room. “Birthday May 24, 1991. Born in Pittsburgh, PA.”

  “Got it. I’ll see what I can find.”

  “How long?”

  “Few hours, unless she’s hiding something.”

  “Call me as soon as you know.”

  I reached my hotel then and hung up. It was almost one in the morning and I wished I could sleep, but insomnia went hand in hand with the job. I went up to my room and changed into workout clothes before hitting the gym. It was well-equipped and blessedly empty. No one worked out at one in the morning except for insomniacs. I went to the treadmill first. I needed to sweat, clear my head and go over the details of the kill first. Once that was done and out of the way, I could think about Mia St. Rose’s pretty green eyes.

  Chapter Four

  Mia

  I wrapped my hair in a towel and checked the time. It was the middle of the night in Philadelphia but Allison worked the overnight shift at the hospital, and that was the best time to catch her. I had a feeling I should check in, and I always trusted those instincts.

  I dialed the number and she picked up on the first ring. I figured she knew it was me. I always called at random times and my phone number was always blocked. It was a precaution. I trusted Allison, but didn’t want to take any chances.

  “Hey, Allison.”

  “Mia!”

  “Is this a good time?”

  “Yes. Good you called, actually. Jason dropped by.” There was no mistaking the anxiety in her voice.

  At twenty-two, Allison was two years younger than me. She knew what Jason had done — well, part of it at least. We never talked about it, and he was her brother by blood, but I sometimes got the sense that she too was afraid of him. I’d wanted her to come with me when I’d run, but she had refused. She swore he’d never hurt her. I left and I guess if I’d believed for a moment that he would harm her, I wouldn’t have left without her.

  “What did he want?”

  “He wanted to know if I’d heard from you.”

  I waited for more, holding my breath.

  “He checked my phone for messages, Mia.”

  I never left messages for exactly that reason.

  “Are you okay?” I asked.

  “Yeah. He won’t hurt me. It’s you he’s looking for.”

  There was a long pause. When my sister had married Jason’s father, things had been fine for the first three months. That was because Jason had been away at school. When he got back home for summer vacation though, everything changed. It was like he couldn’t stand either of us, as if he hated us. He was always angry, especially when he was around me. I knew he didn’t like the fact that his dad had married Tanya. If it was solely because of the age difference, I could get that — but Samuel was happy with Tanya. Shouldn’t that have been the most important thing?

  I didn’t care that he didn’t like me. He was kind of a jerk anyway. It never occurred to me that he’d actually hurt me, but he did. When I thought about it after the fact, I realized how naïve I’d been. Jason was sick, but I’d been the one punished for what he’d done. My sister and stepfather had decided to send me away to boarding school. I still remember how heartbroken I’d been, how betrayed I’d felt, as if my sister were choosing her husband and her new family over me. I only understood why she’d really done it after the accident.

  “Where are you, Mia? Are you coming back soon?” Allison asked, bringing me back to reality.

  “You know I can’t tell you where I am.”

  “I won’t tell him. I promise.”

  “I know you won’t want to, but Jason can be persuasive. It’s for your own safety. What you don’t know, he can’t make you tell.”

  “You’re right. I just… I wish I could help. Do you need money? I can send it.”

  I shook my head. I had some money left, not a lot, but some. Enough until I got the guts to go back and claim what my sister had left me. A million dollars, according to the attorney. It became mine when I turned twenty-five, which was in a few weeks’ time. Thing was, I’d have to go back to get it. It was a stipulation of the will.

  “It’s okay. I’ll be okay. It’s just a few weeks.”

  “Mia, how are you going to claim the money without Jason finding out?”

  �
��I don’t know. I was hoping he’d still be in prison.” Which he was supposed to be. I’d been shocked when he’d been let out early. And while I’d known he kept men on me even while he was behind bars, him being out made everything more real, more frightening. “He’ll never stop looking for me, will he?”

  “He says all he wants is the book, and he thinks you have it. Do you?”

  I closed my eyes. I didn’t want to lie to Allison, but I’d meant what I said. What she didn’t know, he couldn’t force out of her.

  “I don’t have it, I’ve told you that before.”

  “My dad knows your sister stole it. She’s on a security tape.”

  Yes, I knew that. My sister had to have known it too when she did it. And she had to have known Samuel would punish her for it. But had she deserved death? Had that been her punishment, or was her death really just an accident?

  The book in question was the ledger Samuel kept, the real one, for the dry cleaning businesses he ran as cover for the service he really offered: money laundering. I guess it kind of fit — the business, and what he truly did. That book could expose a lot of people, could put a lot of people away, including both Samuel and Jason. He was involved in his father’s business too.

  And it was the one thing that I could still use if I ever had my back up against a wall. I wasn’t going to give that up.

  “I don’t have it, Allison,” I lied.

  “Okay, Mia. I’ll keep talking to him.”

  “What about your dad?”

  “What about him?”

  Allison didn’t have the best relationship with her father. Neither did Jason for that matter. From the tone of her voice, that hadn’t changed.

  “Nothing. Never mind. I’ve got to go, but I’ll call you in a few days. Take care, Allison. Be safe.”

  “You too. I miss having you around, sis.”

  That made me sad. I missed Allison. We’d been close for a while.

  “I miss being around,” I said. “I’ll call again soon.”

  After hanging up, I went to the window, drawing one curtain partially back, looking through the sheets of falling rain at the window across the courtyard. The room was dark and looked to be empty. For some reason, I wanted to see that man again, see him there, even if he was fucking another woman. I didn’t understand this strange thinking though, this pull he had on me. I shook my head and grabbed my raincoat and purse. In my rush to get out of the café last night, I’d forgotten to pay the bill. I’d drop by this morning and take care of that.

  On my way out, I pulled the hood of my raincoat up over my head and opened my dingy umbrella. I needed to get a new one. For now though, I jumped over puddles and quickly walked toward the café, remembering the events of last night, seeing the stranger’s blue, blue eyes, the look in them burned into my brain. I wasn’t sure why I couldn’t stop thinking about him. Surely, they would check out of the hotel soon and I’d likely never see him again.

  Which would be a good thing, right?

  The café was already busy with most patrons standing at the bar, drinking their cappuccinos. It was cheaper than getting a table to drink your coffee at the bar, so many locals did it. I scanned the room in the guise of looking for the waiter who had served me last night, but some part of me was almost hoping to see him here. But that was silly.

  I found the waiter and walked toward him as he cleared a table. “Um, hello, I was here last night.”

  He recognized me and smiled. “Yes, hello,” he said, continuing with his work.

  At least he wasn’t mad.

  “I forgot to pay. I was in a rush and only realized it when I got home. I’m really sorry, I hope I can…”

  “No, it’s okay. Your friend took care of the check.” He moved toward the bar to unload his tray and pick up the next order.

  “My friend?” My heart began to race.

  “Yes, the man. Tall, dark suit? He came as soon as you left.”

  Could it be him? The man? But why?

  “He paid for me?”

  “Yes.”

  “Are you sure? I don’t really know him.”

  “Yes, I am sure. Please, it’s very busy.”

  I nodded. “Okay, yes, I’m sorry.”

  I slipped my wallet back into my purse and went to the bar to order an espresso, baffled. Had he followed me to the café last night after all? I had hoped he wouldn’t have had a good look at me through that window, but I’d been so caught up that I couldn’t be sure how long he’d been watching me while I’d been watching them.

  Again, I flushed with shame at my behavior. Quickly drinking my espresso, I put two Euros down on the counter before I forgot again. But just as I turned to go, the news cut into the program that was showing on the small TV behind the bar. Although I couldn’t understand all they said, I did recognize the photograph of the woman plastered on the screen, behind which was the scene of a crime.

  I turned back around to watch. The reporter spoke too fast and my Italian was so very limited. They stated the woman’s name. It sounded like she was an American. They then cut to the scene where an ambulance waited with its lights flashing and reporters surrounded the gathered police. Two men rolled a gurney toward the waiting vehicle. My throat grew tight at what lay on top of it: a body covered over completely by a blanket, long blonde hair blowing in the wet, rainy morning. For a moment, I entertained the thought that maybe they’d covered her to give her privacy. Maybe it wasn’t what I was thinking. But when they loaded the gurney onto the ambulance, her arm slipped out from beneath the sheet that covered her. The dried blood made my stomach heave and I turned quickly to the door, forgetting my umbrella in my haste to exit the café. I all but ran through the rain back to the hotel, trying to process what I had just seen.

  Murdered. The woman I’d been watching through the window at the hotel had been murdered.

  I remembered what I had thought when I’d seen the man, first in that hotel room, then at the bar. Danger. A clear warning had gone up for me. Was it possible he’d done this to the woman? But why?

  No, I couldn’t think of this. It was unreal — this kind of stuff only happened in the movies. And besides, maybe I’d been wrong? I’d never really gotten a good look at her face and when I had, she’d had a cock stuffed in her mouth the one time, and the others, her face had been contorted either from pleasure or pain. I still didn’t know which. I remembered reading somewhere that one’s expression in intense pleasure or pain is hard to distinguish. Why I thought of that in this moment, I had no idea. Besides, I hadn’t really been paying attention to her. I’d been entirely too engrossed in watching him, watching his face, his body, his hips as he’d fucked her, his eyes as he’d come.

  The memory made me wet even now, even after what I’d just seen on TV. I stopped at a convenience store and bought a new umbrella, forcing myself to slow down and breathe as I did. I was being ridiculous. I was on edge, that was all. After my conversation with Allison and then seeing the news, my mind was making things up. I was safe. Jason didn’t know where I was, and as horrible as the woman’s murder was, I’d been mistaken. The woman who had been killed wasn’t anyone I knew.

  I opened my new umbrella and walked back to my apartment. Ever since I’d told the detectives what Jason had done, I’d been on the run. It was as if I’d become trained to constantly look over my shoulder, to tense at every little noise. I had to stop this. Yes, he was out of prison, but he wouldn’t find me. I had changed my name and I’d moved so many times in the last couple of years I could barely keep track of where I’d been. There was no way he could track me. I wasn’t even in the US anymore. I had to try to relax, start to live again.

  It was easier said than done though. I knew Jason would keep searching for me. When he’d been released early, I even considered not going back to sign the paperwork and claim the money. That was how afraid I was of him. But it was money my sister had left for me, and I had thirty days after my birthday to claim it up before it reverted to Jason an
d Allison. It was the way the will had been written. Probably something my stepfather had done, considering he’d have to have been the one to have given her the money. I used the word inheritance now, but in truth, it was money to shut us up. To shut my sister and me up about what had happened.

  But I hadn’t shut-up. I’d sent Jason to prison. He was supposed to serve fifteen years, but he had gotten out early, and now, he wanted revenge.

  Closing my umbrella, I entered the lobby of the hotel, noticing right away the two police officers standing at the front desk talking to an employee. Dread filled my belly. What if I’d been right? What if it was the woman from across my room that had been murdered? And what if the murderer was the man I could identify?

  “Key for room 412,” I said.

  The young man nodded and retrieved the key to my room. They had those old-fashioned keys you’d leave at the desk on your way out. Modern security measures hadn’t yet reached this hotel. It would have been charming if it wasn’t frightening.

  “What’s happening?” I asked the agent after taking my key.

  He glanced over at the police and the manager. “A woman’s body was found a few blocks away early this morning. She was a guest of our hotel.”

  I shivered at his words, my hands suddenly clammy and cold. “Oh.”

  “Terrible,” he said, shaking his head.

  “I saw the news.”

  “I can assure you the hotel is secure. The attack did not take place here.”

  I didn’t know what else to say and glanced once more at the police before walking toward the stairs. If they questioned me, considering the position of my room to the dead woman’s room, I would have to lie. I couldn’t take a chance on being found, on my true identity being revealed. Jason would be here before I could sneeze. No, I had to get out of here and I had to think of a way to go back to claim the money without being found out.

  The hallway was quiet when I reached my floor. I kept my gaze down as I made my way to my room, noting again the splotches on the old, dark red carpet. I wondered if the police would be up in her room now. Actually, I knew they would be.