Текст книги "Transcending Darkness"
Автор книги: Airicka Phoenix
сообщить о нарушении
Текущая страница: 7 (всего у книги 36 страниц)
Chapter 6
There was a level of soreness most people didn’t know existed. It was the sort that started in the thighs and splintered across the length of the body in bunched knots of agony. Juliette had never felt so used. Everything hurt and not in the good way romance novels always portrayed after a serious fuckfest.
Her thighs throbbed as though she had spent the night riding a stone horse. Her breasts felt tender and held the lingering remains of Killian’s demanding fingers, as did her waists, thighs, arms, and ass. Her lips were swollen from his and felt oddly numb. But it was her pussy that hurt the most. Granted, it wasn’t all bad, but there was enough soreness to make Juliette wince every time she attempted to sit down. Having seven inches of hard, angry man meat rammed into untouched territories no doubt had that effect. But he had been gentle as well, she mused. He hadn’t been pleased about the state of her experience, that was for sure, but she knew Arlo would not have cared one way or another whether she was in pain or not. Killian had practically been a saint in comparison. He had also been thorough and attentive. He had put her pleasure above his own each time. Pain aside, it had been the best first time a girl could ask for. She had come … often and hard. She had felt the sharp sting of passion as her body had been ripped apart and rebuilt. It may not have been a night she willingly wanted, but it was a night she would never forget either.
Until it was over. Exhaustion and pain had broken her and she had fallen to pieces for the first time in ages. She had said things she regretted, but what was worse, she had let him see her cry. That was something she regretted most. People like him, people who lived on power and the throats of their victims, thrived on the show of weakness. While she didn’t believe Killian was like that, not entirely, she couldn’t help wondering if he would use what happened the night before to his advantage somehow.
She prayed she was wrong. She prayed that would be the last time she ever saw Arlo or … no. Not Killian. It was horrible and contradictory to everything her brain was telling her, but the thought of seeing him again didn’t fill her with dread. If anything, the thought made her body prickle with awareness and her breast tingle.
Stop it! She scolded herself, trying not to dwell on things she couldn’t change.
Instead, she focused on pulling on a light summer dress and a pair of flats. She brushed out her hair, swept on some makeup and hurried downstairs to start on the mile long list of errands she’d written out a week ago before having to face work later that evening.
In the kitchen, Mrs. Tompkins looked up from the previous night’s chicken casserole she was scrapping into the trash and smiled.
“Hello dear. How was your evening?”
“Exhausting,” Juliette confessed. “How was yours? Did Vi behave herself?”
“Didn’t hear a peep from her the whole night. Didn’t eat her supper of course, but went up to her room and didn’t come out.”
Juliette nodded. “I’m glad she didn’t give you a hard time.” She sighed and checked her watch. “I have to run to the bank and then the grocery store before heading out to work. I’ll be back some time after midnight.”
Mrs. Tompkins smiled and nodded. “All right, dear. Be safe.”
With a wave, Juliette left the house. She hurried along the sidewalk in the direction of the bank. The day was warm with just the right amount of breeze to make it beautiful. It was the sort of day she would have spent in the park, on the towel in nothing but a bikini and sunscreen while her friends chattered on around her and Stan played football with his buddies a few yards away. It had been years since she had been so frivolous, but the pain was still so raw, so fresh. It always felt like she’d lost everything only yesterday.
But she did what she always did when the lingering fingers of depression began creeping across her chest, she reminded herself she had a sister who needed her. She and Vi may not have ever gotten along, but the girl was the only family Juliette had. It was her job to protect her. Something she couldn’t do if she let the darkness consume her.
Forcing aside her sadness, she squared her shoulders and ducked into the frigid interior of the bank. The place was nearly empty with only an elderly woman at the teller depositing a check. Juliette followed the neatly painted arrow across the floor to the please wait here sign. She was there a full second before she was waved over.
Nena smiled as Juliette approached her window, the kind of smile that was reflexive and a little dead.
“Hello Juliette.”
Juliette offered her own smile, but it felt strained. “Hello. I would like to make a deposit, please.”
Nena fixed her with cool gray eyes. “Do you have your bank card?”
Juliette shifted. She dug out her card and passed it along.
“I know I’m overdrawn, but I’m going to cover that.”
To prove it, she pulled out the envelope of cash Arlo had sent back and set it on the counter between them, deliberately keeping Arlo’s message pressed into the glass. It wouldn’t have meant anything to Nena, but Juliette didn’t want to see it. She didn’t want to remember anything from the night before that involved Arlo. She didn’t even care that she’d been sold to pay off Arlo’s debt to Killian. In her mind, to be away from Arlo, to never have to see or hear him again … it was worth it. She was officially free. She could finally cut back on working. She could refurnish the house. She could maybe get a car and new clothes. The possibilities were endless and she wanted to cry she was so happy.
“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.
The thought disgusted her more than the fact that her own sister had stolen from her after Juliette had taken that money out to protect her. It only solidified her feelings towards the girl. But there was nothing to do now but get to work and hopefully get through the night in one piece.
Marie Lopez, a maid Juliette had spoken to on the odd occasion they were cleaning the same level was waiting for her when she arrived. The woman must have just gotten off the morning shift. She was pulling her coat on over her maid uniform. She spotted Juliette and made her way over.
“A man was looking for you,” she said, following Juliette to her locker.
Juliette stopped and faced her. “What man?”
Marie shrugged. “White. Dark hair.”
Reflexively, her heart gave a leap in her chest. The sensation was foreign, but she recognized it as excitement.
“Black eyes? Beautiful to look at?”
Marie arched an eyebrow. “I don’t know about beautiful to look at, but he had nice hair.”
Not Killian, she thought, excitement deflating. Marie would definitely remember a face like his.
Juliette frowned. “What did he want?”
Marie shrugged again. “Miss Candy Ass took a message.”
Miss Candy Ass was Celina Swanson, the bitter hostess rumored to be sleeping with Harold Whitefield, the manager. She acted like she was hotel royalty when in fact she was the bane of everyone’s existence.
Juliette groaned. “Great. Thanks, Marie.”
Turning away from the direction she’d been heading, she made her way out of the change room.
Celina was in her usual place at the front counter, her million dollar smile wide and dazzling as she passed room keys over to the couple on the other side. Everything from her sleek, blonde mane to her sapphire blue eyes was flawless and probably cost her daddy—and several rich lovers—a pretty penny to maintain. She always reminded Juliette of a soap opera star, all teeth and big boobs. Plus, she did this thing where she batted her eyelashes like a little girl every time she thanked a guest for coming to the Twin Peaks Hotel. For whatever reason, it drove Juliette nuts.
She was also the reason Juliette could never get a hostess position no matter how hard she tried. For four years, her application had been denied and she knew it was because Harold had given Celina infinite God powers over who got the position. There were only two slots, one for day host and one for the evening shift. Celina owned the day slot so no one ever had any hopes of getting that one unless Celina mysteriously keeled over one day. The position paid double what Juliette was making as a maid and there was more to do than sit around waiting for guests to arrive. But Juliette wouldn’t mind the night position. It meant she could keep her job at the diner, quit her job at the arcade and actually get a decent day’s sleep for once. But Celina only ever hired her friends, who always wound up getting fired within a week. It was enough to make Juliette want to write a formal complaint, but since the complaint would go to Harold … it was just a waste of time.
She waited until the couple had ambled away, luggage in tow before making her way forward to address the Queen.
“Hey Celina.”
The smile immediately twisted into a sneer. “You shouldn’t be here! It hotel policy—”
“Did someone come looking for me today?”
Glossy, pink lips pulled together tight in clear annoyance at being interrupted. But she snatched up a piece of hotel stationary and slapped it down on the counter.
“I’m not your receptionist. Tell your friends to get their messages to you themselves.”
Ignoring that, Juliette grabbed the paper and hurried into the back.
Call me.
Arlo.
Juliette’s insides writhed. Her hands trembled. The nausea she’d been fighting back the whole way to work slammed up into her throat. She barely managed to coax it back down as she reread the note. It couldn’t be possible. She’d done everything he’d asked. When she’d left, Killian had been happy. Unless he’d called Arlo that morning and … no. No. God, was that it? Had he complained to Arlo about her behavior? Damn it. She should have just kept the fucking money. Her dignity meant nothing if she was dead.
Heart thumping, she raced for the staffroom and the payphone. Her fingers shook as she inserted the required fifty cents and punched in Arlo’s cell number.
He answered on the second ring.
“Yeah?”
Juliette swallowed audibly once to moisten her throat. “It … it’s me. Juliette.”
“Juliette!” he sounded delighted, like they were old friends who hadn’t spoken in a long time. “Got my message, eh? How was your night?”
Woozy, she slumped against the wall and shut her eyes. “Fine.”
“Yeah? Did you show our friend a good time?”
Having no idea what a good time was supposed to be like, Juliette answered, “I think so.”
“You think so? Think so isn’t good enough, Juliette.”
“Yes,” she corrected. “I did.”
“Good, because I need you to do something else for me.”
A frown tightened Juliette’s brow. “What?”
“Yeah, it’s easy.”
“No,” she gasped. “You said we were done. That if I … that if I did what you said, you’d forget the debt.”
“And I meant it,” he promised smoothly. “The month you owed me is forgiven. Done. You don’t need to worry about it ever again.”
No. No!
She sunk to the ground under the phone booth. “No, that’s not what you said…”
“Yes, it was.” He laughed, long and hard. “Did you really think I meant the whole debt? Jesus, Juliette, that’s crazy. But I have a way where you can get rid of the whole thing in a matter of a couple of weeks.”
It was curdling inside her to say no and hang up, but that was just suicide.
“What?” Even to her own ears, the single word sounded jagged and hollow.
“I knew you’d like that.” She heard something crack in the background. Pool balls maybe. “I need you to see Killian again.”
“Killian? Why?”
“Because he has something I need and only you can get it for me.”
“What?”
“Don’t worry about that right now. Just get yourself back in his good graces and I will tell you what when the time is right.”
“Wait. How do I—?”
“Oh come, come, Juliette. You’re a woman. Aren’t you guys hardwired with the ability to lure men into your web?” He laughed when she said nothing. “Okay, look, you’re at work, right? What time do you get off?”
“My first shift ends at midnight,” she choked out.
“Great. Call me when you’re done.”
With that, he hung up.
