“I see the overdrawn.” Nena cut into her thoughts. “But it was covered by the deposit made this morning.”
Juliette blinked. “What deposit?”
French manicured nails clicked on keys as Nena pulled up the information. She had on her blank bank teller face, making it impossible to tell what she was thinking. Plus she took so long, Juliette was ready to grab the screen and look for herself.
“It looks like it came from a company…” She rapped some more on the keyboard. Thinly penciled eyebrows tangled together. “It looks like it was deposited by the McClary Corporation.”
“Who?” Juliette demanded, leaning forward in attempt to see into the screen. “How much?”
Rather than answer, Nena printed off a copy of the balance and slid it gingerly across the divide.
Juliette snatched it up and peered at the long parade of numbers that she initially mistook for a computer malfunction, but realized it wasn’t an accident.
“Jesus Christ! What is this?” she exclaimed loud enough to draw attention from the other customers and employees.
Nena’s mouth opened, but nothing came out. She shrugged and shook her head.
“Is there a note?” Juliette snapped, anger slicing with white hot speed through her shock.
Nena shook her head a second time.
Grabbing her card, the envelope of cash and the scrap of paper containing more dollars than Juliette had ever seen in her life, she stormed from the bank. All the way downtown, she boiled in a rage that refused to be hampered. If she had hoped the hour long bus ride into the city followed by the twenty minute cab ride to the front gates of Killian’s enormous estate would at least bank some of the fire snapping through her with a vengeance, she had been sorely mistaken. It only seemed to bunch around her throat in vice that strangled the air from her lungs.
“Don’t leave,” she told the cabbie when he rolled up the cobblestone driveway and braked. “I won’t be long.”
Kicking open her door, Juliette rolled out and charged for the grand doors. Two men stood outside, cigarettes in hand. Both stepped forward when she approached.
“I need to see Killian. Now!” she snarled at them.
“Not without an appointment you ain’t,” one retorted evenly.
“I am not leaving until I see him,” Juliette said, planting her feet and crossing her arms.
Each taking a long drag of their smokes, they eyed her through the tendrils that coiled from their nostrils and the corners of their mouths. Both seemed to be the same height but one clearly spent much more time in the gym. Each of his biceps were the size of watermelons and he had the chest of some rogue pirate off a romance novel. The other was more slender and lean. But neither was one of the men from the previous night, at least that she recognized.
“Look, I was here last night. Killian knows me.”
Leers that she did not appreciate twisted their mouths. They slanted each other knowing glances that prickled Juliette’s temper several degrees hotter.
“Let it go, sweetheart,” Steroid said, chuckling. “This makes you look desperate.”
Juliette bristled. “What is that supposed to mean?” she snapped.
“It means you’ve had your night so move along. The boss doesn’t fuck the same whore twice.”
Humiliation burned behind her eyes, drawing tears that made her hands tremble with the effort not to let them spill. Blood roared in her ears, muting everything else.
“I’m not leaving until I talk to him,” she ground out.
The two snorted and shook their heads. One flicked his cigarette at her feet, missing the top her big toe by mere inches. The top blazed a molten red that billowed smoke.
Steriods nudged him hard in the side. “You crazy? Boss’ll kill you if he sees that. Pick it up.”
Flushing, the smaller one stalked over and picked up the smoking butt. That close, Juliette had to stave off the urge to knee him in the face. Instead, she watched as he straightened and ambled around the side of the house, leaving Juliette alone with Steroids, who got a call through the mic clipped to his belt.
“Yeah?”
“Problem?” The voice asked.
Steroids stole a peek at Juliette. “Nope.”
He turned away to mumble into the device. While she couldn’t hear him, Juliette knew exactly what he was telling them and the red hot anger returned. She considered smashing his head in with one of the potted plants lining the pathway, but opted it wasn’t worth going to jail over. Instead, she made a split second decision to run. She ran like her life depended on it. She didn’t stop until she had slammed into the front doors. The knob was ice cold in her grasp as she wrenched it sharply to the right. Behind her, Steroids shouted for her to stop. But Juliette threw herself into the foyer and slammed the door shut behind her. For good measure, she snapped the lock into place. Then she whirled on her heels and ran forward, past the curved stairway towards the back of the house only to skid to a halt at the sound if raised voices coming at her from the kitchen.
Cursing, she whipped around and bolted up the stairs, taking two at a time to the top. Below, the voices rose, as did the sound of running footsteps. Panting, she tore down the corridor, trying to remember if that was the way from the night before. She didn’t expect Killian to still be in the bedroom but it was a place to start.
“Hey!”
With a startled scream, Juliette tore past the second set of stairs and sprinted down the hall in the opposite direction of the small army chasing after her. The thunder of footsteps echoed like bombs going off. It mirrored the pounding of her heart. The bottoms of her feet stung with every slap of her sandal. She ignored it as she ran blindly down the endless hallway. In the end, out of sheer desperation, she ducked into the first open door and slammed the doors shut behind her. The lock cracked into place, sounding oddly muffled to her ringing ears.
Panting, she staggered away from the barricade just as the whole thing shuddered with the weight that slammed into it from the other side. A sound escaped her that was something between a moan and a whimper; the door wouldn’t hold. Odds were they had a key. She was trapped.
“Shit!” she panted, lifting a shaky and swiping away the stands of plastered hair off her sweaty brow.
“Juliette?” The break in the silence ripped a frantic scream from her before she even spun around. Killian sat behind an enormous desk, surrounded by papers and wearing an expression that insisted he had not been expecting her.
“Killian…”
The door gave another violent shudder that made her flinch and back away from it.
Killian looked from her to the door before reaching for the phone on his desk. He hit a button and put the receiver to his ear.
“Stand down,” he told the person on the other end, never once taking his eyes off Juliette. “No. I’ll handle it.” He set the phone down and rose. “What are you doing breaking into my house?”
“I didn’t break in!” she shot back. “I ran in,” she finished lamely. She sighed when he merely arched a brow. “I needed to see you.” She moved across the room. It was almost twenty steps from the door to the desk. She dug onto her purse. “It’s not a gun!” She snapped, losing her cool the moment his eyes narrowed warily. She ripped out the bank slip and slapped it down on the desk between them. “Is this yours? Did you do this?”
He gave it a fleeting glance. “Aye,” he said. “I had it transferred this morning.”
“Why?” Her fingers tightened around her purse strap. “Why would you put this or anything into my account? Why..?” She licked her lips when they caught on her dry teeth. “How did you even get my account information?”
“It’s not very hard if you know the right people to ask,” he answered simply.
“Why?” she said again, louder. “Why the hell would you think I would want your money?”
“Who doesn’t want money?” he said.
“I don’t!” She raked ten fingers back through her hair. “I don’t want
anything from you. I sure as hell don’t want your … your prostitution…” she broke off, realizing with some horror that she was about to burst into tears. “I’m not a whore! I didn’t sleep with you for money!”
But she had, she thought miserably. Just not Killian’s money. She had slept with him to get away from Arlo. She had sold herself for freedom.
“That’s not why—”
“Take it back!” She tried to ignore the tears clinging dangerously to her lashes as she glowered at him from across the desk. “Take it back. All of it.” She shoved the slip at him. It caught the air and drifted over the lip of the desk and disappeared from sight. “Now. Please!”
He didn’t reach for the paper, nor did he look away from her.
“I can’t,” he said with that same level of calm that was beginning to grate on her nerves. “It’s already been transferred.”
“Fine.” She straightened. “I’ll have the bank send it back to you. Give me your account number.”
He hesitated and, for a moment, she thought he was going to refuse.
“If you don’t, I will have it all withdrawn and I will leave it on your doorstep,” she threatened.
It must have shown on her face that she meant it, because he reluctantly took up a pen and a piece of stationary. But he continued to watch her even when the pen was poised over paper.
“Are you sure about this?” he asked, which made her want to hurl something at his face.
“The fact that you can ask me that is an insult on its own,” she said with as much calm as she could muster. “I don’t sleep with men for money. I didn’t sleep with you so you could pay me afterwards. Do you honestly think my body has a price, Mr. McClary? That is your name, isn’t it?”
He gave a mute nod.
Juliette pressed on. “I may not have a lot in this world, but I have my pride and this isn’t okay.” She sucked in a breath. “Account information, please.”
He scribbled it down without even looking and passed it over. Juliette took it.
“Can I use your phone?”
He gave another silent nod.
Not meeting his gaze, she dialed her bank and made the transfer back to his account. She double checked with the clerk that it was all sent, every penny before hanging up. She set the paper with his account number down on his desk and took a careful step back. Her hands twisted in the strap of her purse as she contemplated what to say next. There didn’t seem to be anything. While most people would have found the gesture of him dumping an insane amount of money into their account as charming or sweet, she found it wrong and violating. Why couldn’t he just tell her he wanted to give her money? Sure she would have said no, but the alternative was somehow so much worse.
Without braving a single word, she turned on her heels and stalked to the door. Her fingers were sticky with sweat when she disengaged the lock and yanked the doors open. No less than five men moved forward simultaneously to block her path when she stepped out of the room. One even reached for her and she braced to slap it aside.
“Let her go.” Killian’s voice cut through the space and the hand dropped away.
Juliette shot the owner of the hand a glower before storming off in the direction she had come.
She returned to her part of town with only a hundred wasted on cab fare. Apparently the rich part of town didn’t believe in buses or saving the environment. The cabbie had kept the meter going while Juliette had been running for her life through Killian’s house. It did make her wonder what he would have done if she’d been killed. Would he still be waiting?
Deciding not to think about it, Juliette went back to the bank. Killian’s money was gone and Juliette couldn’t help the twang of regret that prickled through her. That money could have solved so many of her problems. She could have paid the mortgage for a whole year and Vi’s tuition for the next three years. Plus have money left over. But if she had learned anything from her father’s mistake, it was that no one just gave away money and Juliette wasn’t stupid enough to let herself fall into that trap with yet another loan shark. Not now when she had finally freed herself. Besides, her virginity didn’t have a price tag and she wouldn’t let Killian give it one.
“There is only four hundred here,” Nena told her, counting the money from the envelope out onto the counter.
“No,” Juliette said, leaning over to see. “That’s not right. I had seven in there last night. I paid the cabbie a hundred. There should be six.”
Nena looked down at the four hundred dollar bills pointedly.
“Sorry, love. Maybe you spent it somewhere without thinking.”
Juliette shook her head. “No, I…” But she had no answer. The evidence was right in front of her. Four measly bills.
It made no sense why Arlo would keep two hundred and give back the rest. Had she accidently dropped it somewhere?
She ransacked her purse and came up empty handed.
Had she given the cabbie three hundred? The thought made her stomach hurt. But there was nothing she could do. The money was gone.
Depositing what was left, she hurried home to grab her things for work, her mind still wrapped in the missing two hundred. The house was dark and quiet. Mrs. Tompkins was probably resting. Vi was either in her room or out with her friend. Juliette opted for out because the house wasn’t shaking with the sound of some angry girl band. Part of her was actually relieved. As much as she loved her sister, she could never bring herself to like her very much. Not out of jealousy that Vi was free to do what she wanted and possessed an ignorance Juliette wished she still had, but because Vi was a brat, a spoiled, useless brat. Juliette knew her sister knew the extent of their situation. She knew Juliette worked three jobs to pay for their home and food and clothes. Not to mention Vi’s tuition and yet that didn’t stop the girl from whining about everything and demanding more. And after working eighteen hours days and dealing with everything, Juliette had no patience for her sister’s crap.
In her room, she quickly grabbed the bag with her freshly laundered uniform. The stress of losing money tangled with the worry of buying food for the next month and paying bills. She didn’t know how they were going to do both with only four hundred. At least with seven she’d had some wiggle room. Maybe she could pick up another shift at the arcade, or get another job. The Walmart down the street was hiring stock crew for the evening shift. It was an option.
Tying up her hair, she left her room and headed for the stairs just as the front door opened with a bang and Vi charged in on her chunky heels. She tossed her purse down next to the door and pitched her keys into the glass dish with a deafening clang.
“Jesus!” Juliette hissed, hurrying down the steps. “Mrs. Tompkins is sleeping. Keep it down.”
Brown eyes rolled. “Please. She’s like a hundred years old. She can sleep all she wants when she’s dead.”
It took all her willpower not to smack her sister.
“You’re unbelievable,” she said instead. “Where have you been?”
“With friends,” was her answer with a flip of blonde curls.
Juliette opened her mouth to speak when she noticed the smooth leather jacket pulled on over a pretty red top and crisp new jeans.
“Where did you get those?” she demanded.
“What? These?” Vi tugged on the hem of the midriff baring jacket. “I’ve had them ages.”
“No, I do laundry,” she reminded the girl sharply. “I’ve never seen those. Where did you get them?”
“I borrowed them.”
“From whom?”
“Oh my god! Are you like my mother or something? I don’t need to tell you.”
Juliette moved to stand in the girl’s path when Vi started for the stairs.
“Did you take money from my purse last night? Two hundred dollars?”
The smooth slant of her gaze, the absent shift of her hand moving up to scratch at her ear, said it without a word.
“Do you have any idea what you’ve done? Do you have any
idea—?”
“What?” A pale hand speared a slim hip. “You’re the one who lied and said you didn’t have money. And so what? I only took like two bills.”
“That money wasn’t mine!” Juliette screamed. “You taking that money could have gotten me killed! What is the matter with you? Why are you such a horrible—?”
“Horrible?” Vi shrieked. “Me? I’m not the one who lies and goes off all hours of the day and night—”
“To work!” Juliette said back. “I work so you can stay in that stupid school with your stupid friends, so you can have a house and food. I have sacrificed everything—”
“What the hell have you sacrificed? You’ve done nothing for me!”
Juliette walked away before she could punch the girl in the mouth. The unstoppable anger was unlike anything she’d ever felt in her life. Not once had she ever physically wanted to hurt her sister before and yet, in that moment, it was all she wanted. Vi had no idea what would have happened if Arlo had opened that envelope and found two hundred missing. Juliette couldn’t even imagine what he would have done. She had barely made it out of there alive as it was.
The very idea had her doubling over, body wet with cold sweat. Her stomach heaved, but there was nothing in it to throw up. She closed her eyes against the tears and waited for world to stop spinning.
People moved around her, but not one stopped to ask if she was all right. No one seemed to care that she was clinging to a no parking post, doubled over with tears streaming down her face. And why would they? She thought miserably. No one cared about anyone else. The most she could ask for was someone reporting her decaying body if she were to wind up dead on the street one day. Even then, it probably wouldn’t happen without someone first stopping to take a selfie.
Transcending Darkness Page 11
