Don't Hate Me (Club Pétale), page 20
“Pity,” she said with a sigh. I looked back to see her leaning against the counter. “I would have really enjoyed a clam chowder right now.”
“Me too,” I muttered under my breath. It was such a small truth, but it felt so vulnerable spilling from my lips.
She was silent as I prepared the food, looking deep in thought. I didn’t want to intrude and just let us linger in the moment without forcing anything.
It was hard to admit to myself just how much I liked having the company.
“How much do you remember about them?” she asked. “Do you have a dad? Siblings.”
Don’t answer. This isn’t vital to the mission.
What I should be doing is going through her stuff to find the USB I knew she brought. I tried to find it when she was talking to her coworkers, but it was nowhere to be found.
She was steps ahead of me already.
“Dad, yes. Siblings, not from what I can remember. Though maybe once I was gone, they could have expanded their family. I only remember some things from them, including the smell and taste of soup and…” My throat threatened to close. “The ocean. It was cold, and I hated it.”
But the same child who screamed and cried not to go in the water was now screaming at me to return one day.
I didn’t understand it.
The ocean was cold and unforgiving. I remembered how scared I had been of it, and later, when Rolf realized my weakness, how he would force me into it as a child, kicking and screaming.
It didn’t scare me much anymore. The depths of it sure, but it was more the memories of it that haunted me. The memories of how it felt to be held down, unable to breathe, saltwater burning my eyes and throat.
“They gave me to him,” she admitted after a while.
I tried not to pause as I stirred the soup. A story for a story.
“They grew up in the type of environment that enjoyed the idea of a wholesome nuclear family. They were religious and used it as an excuse to hand me over.”
At that point, the anger I had been feeling never left and just continued to rise as her admissions stroked the flames.
“What do you mean they handed you over?” I asked. “Were they in some type of trouble?”
“Maybe handed me over is the wrong word,” she said. “Though it felt like it. I was young. Seventeen at the time, and he was thirty-five. My family grew up telling me that I was meant to get married and have a bunch of babies. It was a miracle I was even able to get a degree online with him or my freaking parents.”
“They set you up with him, and being the good girl you were, you married him.”
“Your turn,” she said. I couldn’t help but frown.
“I have traveled to thirty-seven countries,” I shared. When she was silent, I knew I had to dig deeper. “I… worked with Alistar Lockridge once.”
Maybe that was too much. Giving her the name of your target? But I don’t want to reveal anything about Rolf or any other childhood trauma.
“Wasn’t that the royal who got his throat slit?” she asked.
I couldn’t stop the smile from spreading across my face.
“The very same,” I said. “Pity. He had the prettiest golden eyes.”
Rolf didn’t let me take them because of how visible the crime was. My gaze shot toward Blake, but she gave no indication that she pieced it together or that if she did… she didn’t care.
A bubble of hope filled me.
“I wanted to fight back, but I was so… scared,” she whispered. “So I went. We had a small wedding in a church down the street from my house with only a few people in attendance. I thought that would be the end of it, but…”
“Why you?” I asked. “How did he even pick you?”
I divided up the soup, ready to hand her a bowl, but the look on her face stopped me.
“He was living in that area doing… business. He said he saw me one morning going to school and then approached my parents. I think he knew I was vulnerable and unable to fight for myself.”
“But you learned,” I said and walked to the small, round dining table to place the bowls down.
She didn’t follow me.
“You’re not his,” she said. It wasn’t spoken as a question. Just a cold, hard fact. I turned to look at her.
I wanted to tell her I wasn’t, but even I couldn’t say for sure. I fucking shot him and still wasn’t sure if he was the one who was going to pay me.
Either way, I wouldn’t have changed what I did.
“Do you know what he does?” she asked. “What he helps transport? You can’t, because if you knew, there is no way you would even be here. You think we are safe here? We will never be safe.”
I didn’t speak yet. Giving her the space to talk. When I was sure she was done, I motioned for her to come to the table.
“It’s not great, but it’s something. Come eat, Bl—”
“Do I need to spell it out?” she seethed. It looked like anger on the surface, but her eyes showed me it was fear. “He’s not some white-collar criminal. Do you know who he works for? His name is literally Russell Cro—”
“Don’t tell me,” I pleaded. “Do not tell me who he is connected to. Please.”
“Because you already know? Is that why you’re here, because of who he works for?” Her voice was rising with each syllable. All the fear and anger she had been holding back since the night she forced a gun to my head was coming to the surface. “That’s why this started, right? It’s fake? It’s the least you can tell me. This isn’t your house. Your job is obviously not a contractor. Now what? Is Quinn even your real name?”
“It’s real,” I said, my eyes burning into hers. “I didn’t want to use it at first, but it’s real… what we do is real. Even if the way we met wasn’t. And don’t forget, I know Tiffany Yates isn’t your name but unlike you, I don’t care about the past you. All I care is about the you right now and the you of the future. Whatever happened in the past… that shouldn’t exist as a barrier between us. ”
Her face softened just slightly.
I did care about the past. I cared a whole fucking lot about it. I wanted to know everything that fucker did to her. I wanted to know where she grew up, what she dreamed of being as a child. The file that they had given me was filled with the story she gave everyone else, but I yearned to know just how much of it was real and how much of it was to help cover up her identity.
But I didn’t yearn to know because of the job… I yearned to know because of her. Because of the little agent who, above all odds, seemed to make me feel things for her that I really shouldn’t.
“Who knew you could get so romantic?” she said with a small smile. My face heated. Was it romantic or cowardly?
“Sit the fuck down, please. If your stomach growls again, I’m afraid the whole house will crumble from the ferocity of it.”
She walked to the table with a newfound skip in her step. I didn’t have to force her to eat, and I was irrationally happy when she moaned after taking a spoonful. Thank God. When I took a sip of my own, I couldn’t help but grimace. It certainly wasn’t awful, but I could do a hell of a lot better if the fridge was stocked.
“Better than your mom’s?” I asked hesitantly.
“Way better,” she said, then paused. “I’m sorry that I said I hated you.”
Her words caused me to freeze. I hadn’t really thought twice about them since she said it. Her apology hurt even more than the original words.
“You should hate me,” I muttered. “It would be easier for the both of us.”
Hate me. Yell at me. Throw me out and never speak to me again. At least then I would be forced to leave or make a quick decision. If it continues on like this, I won’t be able to pull myself away from her.
“It hurt your feelings,” she said. “I saw it.”
I pursed my lips, not at all wanting to have this conversation.
“I knew you were lying,” I admitted after a moment. Did it hurt? Did it hurt for her to look at me with so much hatred and pain that I couldn’t think of anything other than falling to my knees and begging for her forgiveness?
“Doesn’t stop it from hurting,” she said. “I just… I don’t know what to do with you.”
Hell, I didn’t know what to do with her.
“Enjoy the time we have together,” I said with a shrug. “Regardless of everything, I don’t think I can stay away from you. Nor do I want to.”
The rising blush on her face caused warmth to spread across my chest.
“Yet you still don’t want to know more about me,” she muttered.
“I do,” I said with a force I hadn’t meant. “I didn’t mean to insinuate that I didn’t.”
“At least let me tell you my real name?” she asked, her eyes brightening. “Then when you remember me, you can know the real me and not this… cover.”
I shrugged. I would remember her as the emerald-eyed, shy little agent that changed what I thought I knew about myself, her real name didn’t matter.
“Only if you want.”
She sat back with a smile.
“Yates is my grandmother’s,” she said. “Hughes was my father’s, but before I changed my identity, I was officially Tiffany Crowe. Honestly, I’m glad for the name change. They all just sound so—Quinn?”
No. No. No. No. No.
I froze as soon as I heard that name. I knew Russell was connected, but never did I think they would share the last name. No. Please can the world just go back in time, even for a few seconds?
I cursed the universe for dropping this on me. Cursed Rolf for putting me in this situation.
But most of all I was cursing myself because even after everything, I opened my mouth and asked, “What do you know about Alec Crowe?”
Blake
She knew more than she was letting on.
There I was, worried that after her job was complete, she wouldn’t know who I truly was. She would just forever see me as Blake, the sex club performer-slash-secret agent. I wanted to know more about her, but at the same time, I longed to tell someone about what happened to me.
Keeping all those secrets inside me had caused my insides to blacken and rot. Had caused my life there, as happy as it was for me at the time, to dampen.
If I knew Alec’s name would cause her to react this way, I would have never opened my mouth.
“Russell works for him,” I explained, taking in her expression. She didn’t so much as blink. “When we were together, he brought me to work often. Threw me to the wolves more than once. They thought I was stupid, thought I was weak.”
“So they continued on their business like you weren’t even there,” she finished for me.
I nodded.
More than once, I had heard some of the awful things they had done. They didn’t care about anyone’s life, all they wanted was money. They could destroy families, cities, fuck they even jokes about whole countries. They didn’t give two shits about anything other than power and money.
“Alec has this… thing,” I explained. “If you’re high enough, you get initiated into his family. That’s how you get the Crowe last name.”
“And Russell?” she asked. “What’s his rank?”
“When I left, he was vying for second in command,” I said. She let out a curse.
I remember the day like it was yesterday. I had slipped drugs into his alcohol, hoping for a night of peace, but they didn’t kick in fast enough.
I had been planning to leave for a while, but he pounced and I—
My small, shaking fists pounded into his face. One after another. Blood splattered around us, and I couldn’t stop. Not until he stopped fighting.
I leaned back, realizing what I had done, but instead of horror filling me, I was… happy.
Happy that it was finally over.
I ran out of that room and packed only what I could carry, including the USB I was going to use to secure my freedom.
I passed by the bathroom mirror, my eyes lingering on my long hair. It had been years since I cut it, and before I knew what I was doing, I grabbed a spare kitchen knife, cutting my hair as I began my escape.
By the time I was safely out of the city, I was unrecognizable.
“The initiation is to share something of yours,” I whispered. I had seen the women after their husband’s initiation. Bruises and wounds covered their skins. Some of them would be in bed for days before they were able to hobble out. The men were sick and twisted in their own right, but together? They were monsters. “That’s why I left.”
I straightened my shoulders and looked at her head-on. There was no shame in this. No shame in getting myself to a safe place.
“What did you put on the USB?” she asked. “What does he know?”
I shrugged. “You heard what he said. I have something of his. I don’t know why it took him so long to come looking for it. Though I doubt he gives two shits about me aside from healing his own wounded pride.”
“What’s on there, Blake?” she asked again.
I gritted my teeth. I couldn’t share, especially not knowing exactly who Quinn worked for.
What if she had just been playing me the entire time? Just trying to get all the information from me so she could report to them?
But if so, she wouldn’t be trying so hard to get me away from him.
It wasn’t even a question of whether I trusted her or not, I couldn’t help it. Ever since I saw her watching me in the sea full of people, I was drawn to her. My body and soul knew that Quinn wouldn’t hurt me.
She had had her chance. Many times in fact. I had slept by her. I had been fucked by her until I couldn’t move. At any moment, she could have taken advantage of that fact and ended me right then and there.
But she didn’t. And as much as I kept pushing her for an answer on what she was going to do with me, I had faith she wouldn’t.
“Enough information to guarantee me a new life,” I said pointedly. “I gave it to someone I trusted, and in return, he helped me build a new life.”
“So the one you have is a copy, then. Any reason you think your contact won’t follow through?”
I averted my gaze from her. I trusted Jonson. He was the only person to see what was happening to me and offer a way out. But just the trust in him alone would not guarantee my safety.
“I learned quickly not to have all my eggs in one basket,” I explained.
When I looked back at her, her gaze was locked on her hands. They were tightly threaded together, her knuckles turning white from the force.
What was going on inside that head of hers?
“This information,” she said. “If it got out, is there anyone you think it would adversely affect? Someone that is not on Alec’s side?”
I cocked my head to the side.
“Of course. Alec has millions of clients that would have to cut ties with him,” I said. “Is that who your boss is?”
It was coming together now, and as much as it hurt, I couldn’t find it in me to distance myself from the woman in front of me.
She was here for that information all along, and once she got it… I had a good idea what was supposed to happen, but the hope that she wouldn’t was hard to ignore.
“I don’t know,” she whispered. The way she said it sounded so hollow it caused my heart to break for her.
“I just request that nothing is left behind of me. I can understand why—”
“Stop saying that shit,” she growled, her hands slamming down on the table.
“Why?” I urged, leaning forward. “We both know why you’re here, even if you won’t say it. You really think me that dense, after everything?”
Please say it. Say that you don’t want to do it. Say that you couldn’t bear life without me.
She meant something to me, but god did I want to mean something to her so badly.
Her breathing was heavy now, her eyes lit up with unbridled anger.
“Eat your dinner,” she ordered, getting up from the table.
I wasn’t feeling very hungry.
She’s been… different. It had been a few days since we came to the safe house. A few days since I spilled to her exactly what my husband had done.
It would have been easier to distance ourselves. Easier to ignore each other and pretend whatever was happening between us wasn’t.
But just like me, she was unable to keep her hands to herself.
Paired with the lack of sleep, Quinn had become far more… intense than usual.
“Let me feel you, little agent. Your cunt is already wet for me, isn’t it?”
A whine escaped my lips as her hand sneaked into my sweats. Our bodies were pressed together, her spooning me with one hand holding my throat and the other between my legs, her fingers pinching my clit.
Whatever she had been holding back due to inexperience before was long gone. The woman next to me knew my body better than anyone had in my life, even all of the partners I had at Club Pétale.
It was the emotional connection.
The raw, tender, electrifying current that ran between us. The constant need to be touching each other, near each other, even though we both knew that whatever the fuck was going on between us would never be.
There was a promise in her touches. Unspoken words in her burning kisses.
I knew what she wanted to say because I wanted it too.
Somehow, through it all, I wanted her to stay. Wanted to see through whatever end it was we were sprinting to.
I wanted to play games with her. Wanted to wake up in the middle of the night to her sleeping form.
“You need to rest,” I gasped out as her teeth dug into my neck. Her left hand glided down my body to my legs, forcing them open so she could fit three fingers inside me. I flailed to push down my sweats for her.
“In a bit,” she murmured against my skin before dragging her tongue along the length of my neck. “I want to feel you come first.”
I slipped my hands under my shirt, pinching and rolling my nipples between my fingers.
“But it’s been two days since you’ve—”
