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 and 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.
Reaching my door, I first listened. I had learned to do that over the last years, to pay closer attention, to watch people around me. To always be aware and to know the fastest way to the exit. All was quiet though and I slid my key into the lock, turning it simultaneously with the doorknob to open the door. Although it was daytime, I’d kept the heavy curtains drawn and between that and the rainy, overcast day, the room was dark. I closed the door behind me and set the key, my purse, and the umbrella down, my gaze on the window. I went to it slowly and just drew the curtains far enough apart that I could see out but not be seen myself.
The room across the courtyard looked very different from mine. The lights were on and even brighter lighting had been brought in. Two uniformed officers along with several figures in civilian clothing worked, gathering evidence, trying to piece together the puzzle of a murder. There was a sudden, bright flash then and I gasped, dropping the curtain and pressing my back against the wall, my hand to my heart. I forced myself to take a deep breath and calm down. Of course, they were taking photographs of the scene. And if they were smart, they’d question the guest from across the courtyard whose room looked directly into the dead woman’s room. I reached a trembling hand out to switch on the dimmest lamp. It took a little feeling around to find the cord and I pulled on it, but the exact moment I did was the exact moment I saw him.
I let out a little scream and jumped backward, pressing my back to the wall as he rose to his feet and put a finger to his lips.
“Shh.”
How had I not seen him? How had I not sensed him? He hadn’t even been hiding, he’d been sitting there on the couch waiting for me.
I swallowed as he stopped just a few inches from me. I turned my gaze up to his, his cold, blue eyes piercing through me as his gaze bore into mine before scanning me from head to toe. I don’t know how I didn’t scream then. Don’t know how I stood there, trembling as I was, and it was only when he reached a hand to my chin and lifted my face to his that I even remembered to breathe.
“You like to watch, Mia?” he asked, his voice a low, deep rumble that made every hair on my body stand on end, brought every nerve ending to life.
I would have screamed then. I opened my mouth to just as he clamped his large, gloved hand over it, pushing me against the wall, stifling my scream. Inhaling leather, I wrapped my hands around his forearm, my limbs acting purely out of instinct. I knew in that instant that all my fears were true. That this man, this man whom I’d watched fuck the dead woman, this man who had aroused me more than any other, who’d had me shamefully watching so intimate an act, was a killer. I knew it as surely as I knew my own name.
It was then I realized that he’d said my name. I would have asked how he knew it, how he’d gotten into my room, but at that moment, terror held me paralyzed in its grip.
“Now, are you going to scream if I take my hand away?”
I tried to shake my head no but he was pressing so hard that I couldn’t move it. Was he here to kill me, knowing I’d seen his face? That I was a potential witness who could identify him?
I tried to say that I wouldn’t scream but it came out muffled against his palm. He took a moment to peek between the curtains at the room across the way before returning his attention to me, his gaze moving to my hands, which gripped his forearm.
“There’s a reason you haven’t gone to the police yet,” he said. “I’m incredibly curious what that reason is.”
I tugged on his arm but he only pressed harder.
“Put your hands behind your back and keep them there,” he said. “Do it and I’ll release you. Scream and I’ll fuck you up, understand?”
I nodded and slowly let go of his forearm to clasp my hands behind my back.
“Good girl,” he said, his hand still over my mouth, his gaze traveling down to my chest where my raincoat had fallen open to reveal the simple white blouse I’d worn underneath. The material was a fine cotton and I followed his gaze to where my nipple pushed through the lace of my bra against the too-thin fabric. Casually, he brought the knuckles of one hand to that breast and brushed them over the nipple. I sucked in a breath. He gave me a knowing look, and, without thinking, I grabbed for his forearm again, holding it with all the strength I could muster, warning him not to touch me even though it wasn’t repulsion I felt. It was quite the opposite, in fact.
He simply grinned, one corner of his mouth curling upward.
“So you can watch me fuck, but I can’t even touch this pretty little nipple?” he asked, somehow moving his arm so that he now gripped my wrists and pressed them against the wall over my head. He looked at me for a moment while I struggled against his hold, then, with eyes locked on mine, lowered his head to that nipple and closed his mouth over it, moaning as if he were tasting the most delicious thing imaginable.
I stared, catching my breath as he sucked, his breath hot, his mouth wet. Without any conscious thought, the sensation sent a signal directly to my clit. But when he closed his teeth over the nipple and bit just hard enough, I cried out into his palm, squeezing my eyes shut.
He straightened then, looking down at the place his mouth had just been, at the wet spot he’d left on my blouse.
“Very pretty,” he said. “I can’t wait to see how the rest of you tastes.”
Panic struck, but just as my mind processed what he’d said, there was a sound just outside the door. Two men talking.
“What the fuck?” the man who held me said. But he didn’t get much more out before we heard the sound of a bullet fired through the silencer of a gun. I would have screamed, but the intruder grabbed me and pulled me to the other side of the bed, pushing me down onto the floor and reaching into his coat pocket to retrieve his own pistol.
Wood splintered as they busted the door open and the man beside me shoved me under the bed. I knew instinctively to keep quiet. I watched from where I was as two men in suits walked into my room. I had to clamp my hand over my own mouth to keep quiet, tears of panic filling my eyes. These were Jason’s men. I knew it. How could this be happening?
The men split up and when one approached the bed, the one who’d been waiting for me in my room moved, his weapon ready, a shot fired at close enough range that it was silenced not only by the silencer on the weapon itself but also by the man’s body. A second bullet was fired and this time I did scream as I saw one of the intruders fall to the floor, his eyes still open, his gun just falling out of his hand.
There was commotion as another shot rang out amid sounds of a struggle and I knew I had to act. As scared as I was, I dragged myself over the dusty floor under the bed and reached for the fallen man’s pistol just as another body landed with a thud. Before I could think, a hand clamped around my ankle and dragged me roughly out from under the bed, a loose spring tearing my coat and scraping my shoulder as I went, a small scream leaving my lips. I didn’t even have a chance to use my weapon — not that I really knew how — because as soon as he saw it, he gripped my wrist and roughly brought it down on the hardwood floor, making me to cry out again at the pain, my weapon clattering to the floor. He pocketed it as he hauled me to my feet and dragged me by the arm to pick up the second weapon. He turned to me for an instant, his eyes fiery as he held his gun at my jaw.
“I don’t know who the hell those two were, but I just saved your life. Fucking keep quiet or I’ll end it. Understand?”
I nodded fast, tears blurring my vision. He dragged me to the door, grabbing my purse on the way and tucking the hand that held the pistol into his coat pocket. He walked me down the corridor and toward the side exit, which I knew would trigger an alarm if we opened the door. I hoped at least that if the alarm went off, the police would hear. I knew I couldn’t let this man take me. I had to get away from him somehow.
We walked quickly through the door that led to the back stairwell and just as it closed behind us, I heard the sound of men running. I couldn’t see them but I knew they were the police. My captor held on to my purse and dragged me down the stairs with him, righting me when I stumbled, but not once stopping or slowing down, not easing his grip on my arm. He was focused, his gaze hard, unreadable, and when we reached the exit, I realized I was out of luck.
The alarmed door was propped open by a brick so that all my captor had to do was push it wide enough for us to exit.
Rain still fell in sheets and we ran toward a waiting vehicle parked at the end of the alley. Opening the driver’s side door, he shoved me inside, forcing me over the gearshift and the parking brake, never once releasing his hold on me until he slapped a handcuff over my wrist and secured me to the door. I watched him, his features tense as he started the car and drove into traffic with the confidence of a local, weaving through cars and driving out of the city and toward the highway.