Page 27 of The Devil

“You know more about me than most. Do you trust me? With this?” I ask, pressing my hand over her heart.

She’s not expecting me to touch her. To lay my hand to her heart. Her breathing comes faster as her heart thuds against my hand. She stares up at me with those pretty, lost eyes and I want to pull her to me and hold her. I want to hide her away, lock her up where no one can touch her.

“Tell me,” I say.

She nods.

“Then trust me to keep my promise. I will not let anyone touch you. No matter what.” After a long moment, I drop my hand. “Now get dressed. He won’t like seeing you half naked in my T-shirt.”

8

AMAL

Once Jet’s gone, I set my hand over the ghost of his on my heart. It’s still beating too fast from the contact.

I turn back to the bedroom.

I like it here.

I’m sorry to have to leave it.

I have to remember, though, that last night was a reprieve. A single night Jet bought me and from the look on Cassian’s face, it’ll cost him. I cross the room and make the bed, brushing a hand over his pillow. Picking up his discarded towel, I walk into the bathroom to wash my face and rinse my mouth. Finger combing my curls as best as I can, I wipe away smudged eyeliner going for smokey eye since I have no makeup remover. I think I may have looked like a racoon earlier.

Then, before leaving the bathroom, I pick up the still open bottle of aftershave and rub some on my neck, the insides of my wrists.

In the bedroom, I pull on the dress from the baptism. Since he left the dresser drawer open, I peer in and see how neat he is, how his socks are rolled up and stacked in neat rows, briefs folded tidily next to the socks.

The watch he discarded sits beside several others in their little velvety boxes. I pick up the one he was wearing last night. A Rolex. They’re all Rolexes. There’s a small fortune in Jet’s underwear drawer. But Jethro Blackstone has money to burn. It’s obvious if I just take a look around. I mean, who builds a house like this?

If I had just the value of one of those watches, hell, half what one is worth, I’d have options.

I put the watch back in its place and I’m about to close the drawer when I notice something peeking out from the back corner. Reaching in, I peer under the briefs to find yet another watch, an older one with a cracked clock face.

I pick it up. It’s an old Rolex, like really old. The gold is yellower than I can see Jet wearing. He prefers silver. The cracked crystal spiders on one side but I can read what is written on the face. Rolex Oyster Perpetual Datejust. It has diamonds where the numbers of the clock would be.

It doesn’t seem to be working and if it’s been neglected so long in the back of the drawer, I get why. It should wind itself when worn just with the movement of one’s wrist, so I find the mechanism on the side and manually wind it. There’s some resistance but then it turns. Nothing happens though. When I give it a shake and hold it to my ear, I hear a fragile tick but when I look at it again, it’s still not working.

I turn the weighty watch over on my hand and see an inscription. Three letters.

I V I

Vaguely familiar Roman numerals? Were they part of Jet’s tattoo? I try to recall it but there was so much to see that I can’t remember.

Beneath the numerals is an etched design but dirt covers it. I scrape at it with my fingernail and realize something just as it comes off.

It’s not dirt.

It’s blood.

Dried blood.

I recall the scars on Jet’s body and my stomach sinks.

Just then a knock comes on the door, startling me. I jump back from the dresser and instinctively stuff the watch into my pocket when Jet opens the door.

He takes a moment. I must look guilty.

“Ready?” he asks.