Page 26 of Sweet Lies

My temper flares again. “None of it was your fault.” I need her to understand that.

“I’m not strong like Claire or E. If it were them, they would have figured something out. They would have gotten away.” She rises so she’s staring down at me from the edge of the bed, her nails biting into her palms, eyes wide and frantic like a trapped animal.

“You survived. That takes strength. You’re right; you’re not Claire or Elijah.You’re Rebecca. That has its own meaning. The names, Bec, I need the names.”

“What are you going to?” she asks, her lips quivering.

“What I’m good at. The names,” I command, my patience dwindling.

“Tony Manze was the first.” I barely hear her. “But I belong to Levi Parga now.”

Moving from the bed, I grab my jacket from a nearby chair.

She rushes to my back; her hand drifts to my arm for a moment in the briefest and lightest of touches before pulling away. I’m surprised by the action and her next words. “Don’t. It’s not worth it. I’m not worth it. He’ll kill you.”

“I’m not that easy to kill.” I wasn’t being cocky—it was simply the truth. I had only grown more lethal since the last time she’d seen me. It’s kill or be killed in my line of work, and that makes a man good at his position early on. But her fear for me sends an emotion I can’t name through me. It’s been a long time since anyone worried for my safety. Either they didn’t care one way or the other, or they had full faith in my ability.

Her face flashes with some emotion, and she studies me as if she wants to stop me. Instead, she moves back to the bed, burrows deep under the covers, and closes her eyes. This conversation was too much to handle—she resembles a broken doll.

My lips part but I’m not sure what I want to say. I’m not used to this. I don’t feel the need to use words all that much—I prefer to let my hands or gun do the talking. Rebecca needs a different person, a better person. I can’t be that for her. But I can offer a small measure of peace by getting rid of some people on her list.

Turning away, I place the gun at my back and my knife at my ankle. She’s worried something will happen to me, but she has no reason to concern herself.

I’m the hunter, not the prey.

ChapterNine

REBECCA

The clicking of the door closing allows me to breathe a sigh of relief that I’m momentarily alone. I’m never truly alone. Everything seems to haunt me, from my family to nameless men who encompass my mind. They seem to circle no matter what I do, always with me, prodding and poking. I long for the silence of being alone. It allows me to reflect on the earlier events of the night that led me to Andre’s hotel room.

Levi barges into the tiny room where I sleep. A room barely big enough to exhale into,hardly big enough to call a pantry, let alone a room, but it offers a little privacy at least. The twin mattress barely fits in the space. The edges rise at the top and bottom against the wall. I like to think it gives me a small pillow. There’s a bathroom down the hall, but that can only be used at certain hours. From 10 p.m. on, I’m locked in this room with only a bucket to relieve myself. I’ve grown used to the set-up and have learned that being left in this room alone is a dream, not the nightmare. The nightmare is when I’m outside this space.

Levi is more irritated than usual.

“Come on,” he orders, and I stand quickly without a word. “Peter Richerson called and wants to meet you. He says he has a date of sorts set up. You may get a nice dinner out of this one.” Levi laughs as if he’s just told the world’s most amusing joke.

“I know you got a little mouthy last time, and we don’t want a repeat of that again. Am I understood?” he asks, his fingers holding my chin up so I’m looking into his beady eyes.

“I’ll be good,” I respond, trying not to think back to the last time—Levi beat the shit out of me because I said no to one thing. I could hardly stand for two days, and he lost money, making him angrier.

“Good girl. That’s all I needed to hear. He’s paying an arm and a leg for you. Makes up for some of the money we lost out on.”

More like the money he lost out on. I get nothing out of this arrangement but beatings and years of intense therapy ahead of me if I ever escape. I’ve only tried that once and barely survived the beating.

Levi drops me off at the bar where Peter is waiting outside. He’s dressed to the nines, as if this were an actual date. I’m dressed in what I hope they bought on sale, given it consists of very little fabric and leaves nothing to the imagination. My heels pinch my feet as I move forward.

“My dear.” Peter smiles at me, and I give him a small smile back, knowing it’s what he expects.

Levi leaves, and we enter the bar. At least I can have a few drinks to help me get through the night.

The bar is lightly crowded. Nothing crazy. The hairs on the back of my neck rise as I feel eyes on me. I ignore the feeling, as it happens often. It’s the dress and the shoes. They think I’m a prostitute, and I guess they’re partly correct. Sex is my business, but not by choice, and I make nothing from it.

Peter orders the drinks and places his hand on my leg. His touch revolts me, but I try to smile and act as if I enjoy it. The last thing I want is Levi on my ass for not being friendly enough.

We sit down with our drinks, and he attempts to make conversation. I answer where I should and ask questions I feel can be asked, and wait till I can get the whole point of the evening over with and go to bed.

“Do you love me?” he asks, close to my ear. He’s moved so quickly I haven’t realized, and stumble out of the seat. My back hits another table, and the man’s beer spills.

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