In some ways, the girl could relate to her lover. After all, she had been conning him the whole time they were together. Sure, she never took any money from him, but she was still keeping tabs. She still wanted to get even with Travis, his boss, the man who ruined her all that time ago, but as the year went by, she felt she was less fueled by vengeance. Being loved by Javier—being in love with Javier—stifled the anger she felt inside. For the first time in a very long time, someone was able to take her hurt away.
So, because she didn’t like relying on Javier for everything, because she felt he was already giving her so much through his romantic gestures, constant attention, and charming personality, she had gotten a job as a waitress. It was just a local bar and she only worked weekends. It didn’t matter that her weekends were taken up when Javier didn’t work business hours anyway. Breaking fingers and running drugs could be done at any time of the week.
That day, the day that everything changed for the girl, she was sent home early. There had been a small fire in the kitchen and they were closing it down for the evening to assess the damage. The girl got into her Chevy truck, something she still drove despite craving Javier’s car, and went home. She stopped at a mini-mart, picking up a six-pack for them to split. Javier had been stressed out lately—why, she didn’t dare ask—and thought it might be nice to surprise him. They used to love taking drinks onto the white sand beach and watching the waves roll in, something they hadn’t done for an awful long time.
The girl was pondering why they hadn’t been together as much lately, doing the things that used to bring them joy, when she pulled up to the house. It was completely dark and looked like no one was home, though she had only left him sitting at his computer two hours earlier.
Maybe he’s napping, she thought to herself. He often went out into the wee hours of the night to do his business. She didn’t once have any suspicions. Why would she? Even though she and Javier weren’t spending as much time together as they used to, their sex life always kept them connected. He was a powerful and insatiable man in the sack—dominant, sensual, slightly kinky, and extremely vocal.
For a long time the girl’s mind would go back to that moment, the moment she decided to get out of the car and walk into the house. If she’d stayed in the car, perhaps even for a few more minutes, the whole thing would have been avoided. Perhaps her life wouldn’t have changed. She looked at that blissful ignorance and wanted it back. The truth was too painful.
But she got out of the car and walked into their house, facing the truth that was hidden in the bedroom. She quietly closed the door in case he was taking a nap and tiptoed through the hall. She gently laid the cold beer on the kitchen counter and pulled one off the ring for herself. She walked down the hallway toward the bedroom—and stopped dead.
She heard him moaning first. For a split second she thought he was having a nightmare. Then the moan became all too familiar. So in the next second, she thought he was whacking off. She liked it when he did it in front of her, or as it often was, on her. But her assumption was short lived. A woman’s cry and groaning were quick to follow.
The sound, she’d never forget the sound of that woman, made her heart bleed in her chest. Her tattoo itched. She was frozen to the carpet, unable to move. She must have stood there for minutes, hearing the whole thing, trying to comprehend how the hell this could happen.
Then they came, her cries drowning out his. The girl finally snapped to attention, just as the beer was about to fall out of her hands.
The woman in the room made some sweet talk to the man, to her Javier, and Javier sweet talked back. He called her beautiful. His voice was gentle. He was being sweet. That hurt the girl more than their blatant fucking ever had.
The girl was so angry. All her pain, her humiliation, her revenge, came flowing through her. She was going to kill them. Kill both of them.
She crept down the hall, wanting to barge in on them and catch them in the act. She wanted them to be as humiliated as she was. But something happened.
As she pushed the door open a crack and peered into the bedroom—her bedroom—she saw them both naked, lying face down on the bed. They were facing away from the door, so the girl couldn’t see the woman’s face. But she looked curvy, silky, with a wild mane of auburn hair that cascaded down her golden back. Javier’s foot was hooked around hers and they swung it up and down, like two children who were sitting on a bridge. They looked intimate. They looked…happy.
The girl decided she couldn’t do it. She had one thing left—one secret of her own—and that was the fact that she was Ellie Watt. Javier had never known the real her, so he’d never loved the real her. He loved a woman who wasn’t a con, wasn’t a spy, wasn’t there because she wanted to bring down the man who ruined her.