Chapter Six
Mia
I watched Julien as he drove, but images of him in that hotel room interrupted. His large hands gripped the steering wheel and his expression was serious, his gaze focused on the road ahead. Sitting this close to him, I picked up the subtle scent of aftershave, and more than that. He took up so much space, too much. It was as if he were more real now, more so than when he’d been in that other room separated from me.
I’d known he was attractive, but this close up, seeing the chiseled bones of his face, the set of his jaw, he looked almost elegant. Not like he’d looked in that room. Not while he’d been…
He chose that moment to glance my way and I knew I had just turned bright red when I felt the heat of embarrassment spreading across my face.
“What?” he asked.
I shook my head. Looks were deceiving. I had to remember that this man was a killer. “Nothing. Where are you taking me?”
He checked his watch. “We’ll drive a few more hours then get a hotel for the night where you can tell me the bedtime story of your life.”
I wouldn’t be telling him any stories. He’d be disappointed if he believed that I would. But a hotel was good. At a hotel, there would be people. And if there were people, there was a chance I could escape. My purse, which contained my wallet and some money, was in the backseat, and he had my passport in his pocket. I’d just have to figure out a way to grab that before I ran.
Julien reached to turn on the radio and sat back to drive, his attention fully on the road now. I studied him, his face in profile. His dark hair was clean-cut and his skin had an olive tone. His jaw was covered in scruff spotted with gray and the set of his mouth was hard, although his lips were quite full and sensual. He actually fit with the Italians in looks, except for his eyes. They were a bright, icy blue. I bet he fooled a lot of women with those eyes, but I’d seen what hid in their depths. I’d seen it when I’d been watching him. I’d seen a cruelty in them, a darkness.
And I couldn’t explain why that darkness drew me even as it repelled me, scared me to death. The man was a murderer.
“Why did you kill her?”
He glanced at me, his eyes scanning my face before he answered. His answer was plain.
“I was hired to. She was my mark.” He watched me, his expression neutral. “And you’re a witness who can identify me. Can you guess what that means for you?”
When I didn’t speak, he continued.
“Remember something, Mia St. Rose. When you ask a question, you should be ready to hear the answer.”
I hadn’t been ready to hear that.
His words left me shivering. They were so cold, the way he spoke them chilling. And when he said it, his eyes went flat, as if this were a casual, meaningless conversation. As if someone hadn’t been killed.
I dropped my gaze first, unable to hold his. The man frightened me, deeply.
When I’d first seen him and the woman in the hotel room across from mine a few nights ago, it had been by accident. I’d pulled the curtains open merely with the intention of opening the window. I’d just wanted to get some fresh air. But when I’d seen what I’d seen, this beautiful man naked, a woman kneeling before him, sucking him off, his grip on her hair hard, his gaze on the top of her head as he pulled her head back and forth, I couldn’t look away. I just couldn’t. The act was beautiful and base, all at once. He was cruel and she seemed to worship at his feet. When he’d finished, he’d come on her face. I remembered that, I remembered feeling both offended and madly aroused by the humiliating act. That and the fact that he’d made her remain like that, on her knees, her hands clasped at the back of her head while the cum dried on her face. He’d gone to have a shower and when he’d emerged fresh and clean, he’d dressed while watching her, not once saying a word, and then he’d left. I’d watched the woman after he’d gone. I’d seen her remain as he’d left her for the next half hour before finally climbing to her feet to clean herself up. What sort of man wielded power like that over a woman?
A man like him, like my captor.
“You reliving those nights?” he asked, grinning.
“What? No!” I lied, mortified. Was I so obvious?
He pulled off toward the exit, slowing down, reaching into the back seat to grab a sweater and toss it over my lap to hide the handcuffs.
“One word and the old woman’s dead. Clear?” He opened his jacket to let me see the gun.
I nodded.
Julien handed over the ticket, spoke a few words in fluent Italian with the woman at the toll, paid, and drove off. He’d actually smiled when talking to her. Would he truly have killed her if I’d alerted her? What kind of person could do that?
“Almost there,” he said to me. “You hungry?”
I hadn’t eaten all day and we’d been driving for several hours. “Yes.”
He nodded and drove a little farther until we came upon a roadside restaurant. There were three other cars in the parking lot and once we’d parked, he turned to me.
“I could stretch my legs and eat something. If you’re going to do anything stupid, I’d suggest you save it for the hotel so no one but you gets hurt, understood?”
“Why are you doing this?”
He feigned confusion for a moment. “Money, of course. Why else? But it’s better than being dead, isn’t it? You should thank your brother when I get you back to him. He saved your life.”
I swallowed, watching his face for any signs of humanity, and finding none.
“There are kids in there. Are we clear on behavior, Mia?”
I nodded and he climbed out of the car. He came around to get me, releasing me from the handcuffs and hauling me out. He kept me close as we walked inside, his fingers digging into my arm. He chose a booth at the very back of the place and pushed me in to sit, removing his jacket, leaving him in only a t-shirt and jeans, before sliding in next to me. I scooted away, but he came closer so that our arms touched, his bare skin reminding me of the art that decorated his body, the tattoos that covered most of his chest, both arms and one part of his back. I looked at the one on his forearm more closely. It was a date some fifteen years ago.
“What’s that?” I couldn’t help but ask.
He looked at it, and emotion passed through his eyes, something sad at first which then morphed into something else, something akin to hate.
“The day I became what I am,” he said, his gaze on mine.
I knew to tread carefully and I remembered his words from the last time I’d asked a question:
When you ask a question, you should be ready to hear the answer.
I wasn’t ready to hear this answer.
A waitress stopped at our table, looking at me for a moment before turning her full attention to him. The way she pushed her hip out and smiled, I knew she found him attractive. He knew it too, because he actually flirted with her. I didn’t speak Italian half as well as he did, but I’d been here long enough to understand some of it, and even if I couldn’t understand a word, the tone of his voice and the look on his face would have told me he was flirting right back.
“I ordered for you,” he said, handing the menus back. He had a smile for her, but only a cold look for me.
I thought about telling him I could have ordered for myself, but I didn’t care what I ate. I was thinking of how I could make my escape but knew it would be ridiculous for me to try just yet. He had the car keys and my passport and I knew he meant it when he said people would get hurt. I’d have to wait until tonight.
“Tell me why your brother has put a price on your head,” he said.
“Stepbrother. Because I testified against him and put him behind bars. Temporarily, at least.”
Which threw a kink into my plans. Jason wanted me more than he wanted that million. I was smart enough to know he’d have men watching the law office and wouldn’t be surprised if the attorney was in his pocket too. His and Samuel’s.
“So, he wants revenge.”
“He’ll kill me if you take me to him. You have to know that. He’s… like you.”
That made him pause. “Like me how?” he asked, grinning.
The waitress returned with plates of hot sandwiches and I tried to formulate my response in those moments she was with us. I didn’t want to piss him off, but he didn’t seem volatile. In fact, he was eerily composed, considering what he had done that morning.
I picked up my sandwich and took a bite, avoiding his gaze.
“Tell me, Mia. I’m curious.”
“Are you American? You speak Italian fluently, and you look Italian, but you also sound like an American.”
“Does it matter?”
Well, I guess it didn’t. I shook my head.
“Now, tell me.”
I glanced at him from the corner of my eye.
He smiled and leaned in close. “Don’t worry, whatever you say, I won’t kill you. You’re worth a quarter of a million dollars to me.”
Then he winked before opening his mouth to expose a row of perfect white teeth — well, perfect except for the canines which seemed a little too sharp — and bit into his sandwich.
“He’s a mercenary. Just like you,” I said, putting my sandwich down. I’d lost my appetite.
He paused, actually seeming surprised for a moment.
It was my turn to smile. “Don’t ask a question for which you’re not prepared to hear the answer, Julien.”