“Of course,” he mused quietly. “He would never have allowed it.”
Her eyes found him once more over the smooth curve of her shoulder. “I would never have allowed it.” The corner of her mouth quirked. “And no, he wouldn’t. Would you?”
His drink paused midway to his mouth. “If you were mine?”
Color darkened the contours of her cheeks, but she held his gaze firmly. “If the person you were with was in my position.”
He didn’t even attempt to consider his answer. “Never. I would have skinned Cruz alive. But also, my woman would never have been a virgin.”
She did avert her eyes that time. Killian threw down a much too large gulp of whiskey and refilled his glass.
“Would you like a drink?”
She shook her head. “No, thank you. I don’t drink.”
Nerves calmed, he circled the bar and made his way to where she stood.
“You don’t drink.” He twirled his own drink absently. “You don’t carry a gun. You don’t have a lover. You don’t like loud music. Do you smoke?”
She shook her head.
He stopped when there was a full foot between them and peered down into her upturned face.
“Just what do you do, Juliette?”
“Work,” she murmured quietly.
His gaze drifted over the top of her head and settled on his desk without seeing it. He took a sip of his drink and contemplated his next question. He had so many.
“What kind of work?”
She drew in a breath that made her breasts swell against the material of her dress. She held it a moment before releasing it in a rush to answer.
“I’m a waitress at Around the Bend,” she said evenly. “And a maid at the Twin Peaks hotel. On weekends, I work at Fun Time Arcade and Fun Pit.”
“Jesus.” He lowered his glass. “When do you sleep?”
She gave a wry smile. “Coffee and I are very close.”
“Surely you don’t only always work,” he cajoled.
“Pretty much,” she stated with a small shrug. “What about you?”
He met her gaze. “Do I work or do I do all those things?”
“The latter.”
He glanced at the glass. “Yes, I drink. In moderation. I do carry a gun. Yes, it’s registered and, yes, I do know how to use it. I used to smoke.” He threw back the rest of his drink and set the empty glass down on the coffee table. “It was a nasty habit I picked up after my mother died. It was either smoke or drink and…” And he had needed all his senses to do what needed to be done. “Smoking was an easier habit to kick,” he finished.
She watched him with those eyes that seemed to see too much and he looked away.
“Why did you quit?”
“My father’s death, ironically.” He felt his mouth twist into humorless grin. “He hated that I smoked and begged me to quit for years. When he died … I quit.”
“How old were you?” she asked.
“Ten when my mom died and sixteen when I lost my dad.”
“I’m sorry,” she whispered. “I lost both my parents around that age as well.”
He started to tell her it wasn’t the same thing. That her mother’s cancer wasn’t the same as how his mother was brutally beaten, raped, and tortured, nor was her father’s gambling problems anything like watching his father die in his arms after taking a bullet meant for Killian. Yes, they had both lost their parents at a young age, but her loss was nothing like his. Yet there was something on her face, a shadow of pain he recognized that made him stop.
“You have your sister,” he reminded her instead.
Her bottom lip was caught between her teeth and she turned away. Neither spoke for several long moments.
“I love my sister,” she said, but it was the way she said it, like she was reminding herself that made him glance her way. “Sometimes it’s just hard to remember why.” She seemed to remember he was still standing there, because her head jerked up and she faced him with a sheepish little grin. “Sisters can be a pain, that’s all.”
He said nothing.
“Do you have siblings?” she asked when the silence deepened for too long.
“Sort of,” he said, thinking of Maraveet. “We’re not related though and I haven’t seen her in years. She’ll drop by occasionally, unannounced, but it’s a hard thing getting a hold of her otherwise.”
Something in his tone, maybe a note of wistfulness had her peering back at him, a glimmer of sympathy in her eyes he did not appreciate.
“Does she live very far?”
Killian shook his head. “She travels a lot.”
Thankfully, she didn’t push. Instead, she glanced at her watch.
“I should go. My second shift starts in an hour.”
He turned as she started away from him. “Second?”
Juliette paused to glance back. “I have two hours between shifts and I’m down to the last hour.”
“When do you get off?”
She adjusted the staple on her purse. “Six.”
“Where?”
“The Twin Peaks hotel on—”
“I know where it is.” He had no recollection of moving until he found the space between them gone and he was standing a mere foot away. “But you never told me why you’re here.”
Juliette hesitated. Her lashes lowered to the gap between their feet. Her fingers knotted in her strap. The knuckles blistered white before she released them and lifted her eyes to his face.
“Arlo sent me. You have something he wants and he’s trying to use me to get it.”
The declaration collided square with his gut, expelling all his oxygen and making his insides ache. At the same time, it filled him with a familiar sort of rage he hadn’t felt in a long damn time. The latter had him turning away from her. It had his clenched fists sliding into his pockets as he moved to put an entire room between them. It wasn’t because he doubted his restraint. He just chose not to test himself.
“I see,” he murmured quietly. “And what does he want?”
Juliette shook her head. “He never told me.”
He glanced at her. He took in her doe brown eyes and weary expression. She stood so small and determined. But it was the way she was watching him back that had his curiosity bristling.
“What do you want?” he wondered out loud. “Were you hoping that by telling me, I would hand over whatever it is that little fuck wants?”
“No.” She held his gaze squarely. “I don’t want anything.”
Irritation spiked up the cavity of his body. He twisted around to face her fully, all the while, resisting the urge to march over and shake her.
“So, you’re telling me out of the goodness of your own heart.”
“No,” she said again. “I’m telling you so you know to be careful.”
That only seemed to intensify the burning coil winding up inside him. But it was the jagged thorns of something else, something foreign and deadly that had him tensing.
“And why would you do that, eh?” He edged around her carefully. “Why would I be a concern of yours? Were you hoping I would owe you? Were you hoping you could play me?”
For the first time since her confession, Juliette’s face twisted into one of absolute disgust.
“Play you? What on earth do you have that I would want?” she threw back at him. “I’m trying to get away from the lot of you, not get in deeper.”
That intrigued him enough to let go of some of his anger. But he kept a firm grip on his suspicion.
“What then? What would you like for this wee bit of information?”
He thought he had her when her gaze broke away from his and lowered to her feet. He thought for sure that she would ask him for money or protection. Part of him secretly hoped she would ask him to kill Arlo and end her problems. That was something he would do without hesitation. He still might depending on how the night ended.
“I don’t want anything,” she murmured at last with a weariness that made her voice come out strained. Her chin lifted and she peered at him once more. “But I don’t want Arlo to get what he wants either. Maybe it’s suicidal and stupid of me, but I realized something today after I talked to him, that I would never be free of him. That he would never let me go. He already lied once and I don’t believe he won’t do it again if it means getting what he wants. I know telling you was dangerous, but if I have to pick the lesser of two evils, I pick you.”