CHAPTER 22
duke
We were acting like strangers, who didn’t know and didn’t care for the other. Maybe it would’ve been easier if we truly were strangers. I came here because I really didn’t have a goddamn choice. It was all against my will. To be completely honest, I was slightly afraid of her. Fine, I’d been living with her for numerous months, but in the same time what did I know about her until she got her breakdown and told she killed people for a living? Nothing. I couldn’t deal with that. Right now everything of the previous info I knew about her was non-existent and every time I saw her, there was only this image of her slicing somebody with a kitchen knife and insane smile ghosting on her lips. A person who was without mental disorders could never harm another person. It’s against human rights.
"Hey buddy..." I groaned as I heard a feminine voice talk to someone. I was half asleep lying on the couch, trying to remember how I’d got on it, but there was nothing in my mind, just a drought in my mouth and throbbing pain around my temple. I threw my arm on my eyes, trying to shut out her annoying voice and the temptation to throw something at her. Both her voice and my headache were begging me to reconsider my decision of laying calmly. They were driving me mad. "I thought you left me..." She laughed a bit and there was a sound of a knife hitting the surface of a wooden board. Was she preparing something... eatable?
Just then the smell of baked meat got to my nostrils leaving my mouth watering. No, it was over my dignity to get up and go there, no, not quite over my dignity, just not in my power, I was hungover and maybe if I went to the kitchen, the smell would feel awfully disgusting and my insides would turn upside down. "You should," She kept talking, "I’m not a good person, friend." I could’ve sworn she laughed and threw something on the frying pan, "I’ve done things I’m not proud of... Yeah, look at me with those big green eyes of yours. If I give you this piece, the train wreck over there won’t have anything to eat..." My lips curved in a smile which was rather unbelievable.
Who was she talking to? I peeked from under my arm and saw a black cat sitting in the arch of the kitchen. He meowed. "Fine, just don’t tell him. He’s already head over heels in a mess he can’t handle. Who thought his stupid girlfriend would hate him enough to tell him?" Hate me, why would she hate me? "You can’t care for one if you put such weight on his shoulders."
It was odd to hear her, the one and only Elle Morrison- the great murderer talk to a cat like it was her only friend. I sat up feeling my head acting even worse than before and my stomach starting to get upset but I swallowed the feeling down and insisted on keeping it down. "If you dare to leave me after this piece of meat, I’d... I don’t know what would I do. You’re my only friend, Friend." Her only friend? I held on to the back of couch and just then noticed a plaid blanket on my lower body. It was dark outside and I’ve been sleeping under the dull rays of kitchen light, dreaming of how my hand had dragged the blade through her. The worst of it all was knowing I was just a second away of doing it in reality.
I pushed the blanket aside and noticed I was missing my leather jacket and my boots. Why did she keep doing this? Somehow she always made the expression of hating me, but in the end she was the one to look after me. I rubbed my forearm as I walked across the room, the cool breeze from the open glass door left me with goose bumps. I guessed the door led to the terrace. As soon as I was foot away from the wooden arch, the cat looked at me and it seemed like he was condemning me? What the fuck? We shared a stare before it walked past me his head held high. I was getting fucking delusional.
I leaned against the arch, watching as she placed food on a big plate. She was humming. She hadn’t noticed me, otherwise she wouldn’t have sang Scream under her breath. Just now my partly sober vision allowed me to see her clearly. Very tiny shorts and a very tiny sports bra. My eyes narrowed on the scar. No matter how she tried to convince me, I didn’t believe she could fall on a knife. She bent down to open the cupboard. Now, really she didn’t know I was there? Cause, fuck, that move was hot. It was like she was torturing me on purpose. The kitchen was too small to miss me if she happened to turn around. She took the frying pan and placed it in the sink before turning around with a plate in her hand. For once she really looked startled. Her gray eyes were almost with a silver gloom. I glanced on the plate and I wanted it just like I wanted her. Maybe even both at once. What? Snap out of it, man. I looked on the vegetable filled plate with chicken stew and nearly swallowed my tongue.
"Jumpy?" I grinned as my eyes ran over her body. A decent cup C. Why hadn’t I noticed it before? Because she never wore such revealing clothes before.
"Truth be told, Duke... Yes." And that’s it? No sarcastic remarks, no nothing? She pushed the plate in my hand and walked out of the kitchen, turning on the light in the living room.
"Nice ass..." I complimented as I savored the meal she had prepared me. She looked over her shoulder with a great frown on her face as she folded the blanket I was sleeping with earlier. She picked up black boxing gloves from the coffee table and left me alone. All alone. How dared she? As soon as I was finished with the most delicious thing I’ve eaten in past few months, I placed the plate in the sink and went after her. From a wonderfully cozy living room with loads of expensively beautiful things like the grand piano next to the big window and the glass door, to a bookshelf case and even a fireplace, which wasn’t necessary living in Cali, I walked through a long hallway and into a large room full with sports equipment.
Elle was pulling her gloves on as she saw me enter. The furthest wall was covered with glass door and I was stunned by how many guns I saw. Wasn’t she afraid of-
"If you think I’m paranoid of the police walking in, I’m not. They all are legal and none of them is mine." How did she do that? How the hell did she know what was I thinking? She drove a couple of hits in the boxing bag before I scanned her once again with a great smirk on my face, "No seriously, what is your problem?"
"My... problem?" I frowned, repeating. Her silver irises were piercing in mine. She was angry. Over what? What had I done, other than been pissing her off the whole day until now... No, I’m still pissing her off. Especially when my eyes connect with her curves. Like now. I could not suppress my animal urges, even imagining her blowing someone’s head off just turns me fucking on. That shouldn’t be right, but her conversation with the cat turned some sort of a vessel inside my head. Or maybe I had slept off my frustration? Just like I did with my inebriety. "I used to think it was you... But a girl with a fine ass like yours can’t be a problem." I grinned seeing how she was exploding from inside, but remained calm on the outside.
"So you’re past the ‘we can’t be friends, you’re a killer’ phase and I can call Trent?" Of course, Trent. Maybe I was, maybe I wasn’t, but I didn’t want to leave just yet.
"No. I’m past the ‘Morrison is a homicidal bitch’ phase." The corner of her full lips raised in a smile, but it vanished soon after. I had made her smile, me out of all the people, me!
"Morrison, was that a smile just then or I’m shitting myself?" I walked closer and received a look from her, before she punched the bag a couple of times. A small layer of sweat was forming on her tanned skin. "Morrison..."
"You’re shitting yourself and you’re not past the phase because you don’t know me." She was panting heavily as she turned to face me.
"Then tell me something about yourself." She arched her eyebrow and widened her eyes. "Oh come on, it’s not that unbelievable... Yes, I want to fucking know you."
"What’s the point?" She opened the glove with her teeth and in that same moment I imagined her undressing me only by using her pearly whites. So fucking hot. "I’m afraid those three hours of my patience would be down in the sewer if I told you anything about me and you would go ape shit once again."
"I already know the worst part. What can be worse than admitting you’ve killed someone?" She pulled her gloves off and threw them to the floor. A grin appeared on her lips which made me wonder. Was there really something even more worse? Morrison went for a bench which looked like it was about to fall apart.
"Admitting I value money higher than any human?" She picked up a water bottle and took a sip before sitting down.
"Money?" Fine, maybe I was going to go mental again. "How much do you fucking get for one person?"
"Depends..." I sat next to her. I could feel the heat radiating from her partly bare body. "It’s from five grand to sixty, but it really depends on who is the person and who is willing to get him killed." She took another sip. Sixty fucking thousand dollars? Was that how much one’s life was worth. "As for you... I’ll get eight grand..."
"You’re going to kill me?" I froze and she laughed. I didn’t know if to feel relieved or just the contrary. She was right, I was going to snap. My stare fixed on her smirking lips.
"No. I told you I kill people just because of money. Money is everything, I can do something else if there’s a pretty number, for example drink vodka for ten grand and look after you..." She picked up a towel from beside her and wiped her face. "Charging one and a half thousand for an hour. Of course Trent is a miser and I’ll only get a thousand for an hour."
"He pays you to look after me?" This was a shocker. My lips parted in the slight confusion. "It’s always been like this? You’ve been paid to fucking babysit me?"
The smirk left her lips and now her gray eyes were piercing in mine. How could anyone possess such dangerously beautiful eye color? It didn’t seem normal, for a long time period I though she was wearing contact lenses. They looked like quicksilver had been injected in them. "I’ve been payed to do my job and until last week you were not considered as my job."
"Last week?" My voice turned out colder than I expected it to be. "What the hell happened last week?" Her thumb was nibbling on the etiquette as she let out a deep sigh. I couldn’t stop myself from thinking I was just her next victim. "Talk to me..."
"Your name came up." She raised her eyes to look in the space right in front of her. My name came up? What the hell did that mean? "Somebody wants you dead. It’s funny cause I’m not even here to kill you."
"What are you saying?" She giggled.
"I’m supposed to protect you, which I’m not very good at." She took a big sip of the water, fixing her eyes on her hands. "I don’t know how to keep someone in a lively state. It’s a miracle I’m still alive after all these years, but then again, I’ve never been on someone’s list-" She smiled remembering something, "Lying. I have. That’s how I got this stupid scar." She brushed her fingertips over her side. "And now I’m supposed to protect you when I can’t even protect myself anymore."
"Who tried to kill you?" My voice was barely louder than a whisper and it felt like there was some sort of a ball trapped inside my throat.
"I don’t know names..." She lied. Every time she told a lie she blinked. It was these small things I had picked up through the months that kept me alive. I knew her habit of biting on her lip when she was pissed and I knew she blinked on every lie she told. I was pretty sure she didn’t even know it herself.
I couldn’t pretend I didn’t care anymore. I’ve been wondering for the last week, since the day she left me faceplanting Trent’s backyard, why couldn’t she be the normal kid? The one who went to college, the one who drank shit load of booze and passed out on someone’s porch? She was young, she was supposed to enjoy life, complain about some asshole who fucked her and then didn’t even call her and I was supposed to be her apartment mate who didn’t give a single fuck about her annoying whining. The thought hit me every time I saw her or every time my thoughts tangled up in her, how had she managed to stay out of jail or even better- alive was just beyond me. There had to be some limits or some precaution matters or fucking something.
"Teach me..." I said calmly. Her head shot up and her silvery orbs were full of disbelief. "You said I’m on someone’s list. I need to know how to stay alive."
"No fucking way." She hissed as she stood up and went for the door.
"Name your price," She froze just before exiting through the dark door. Her head turned slightly, but she didn’t turn it enough to see me. "You said it’s money that matters. I’m willing to pay."
"I don’t need your money."