Maybe Always (Maybe Series Book 3) (19 page)

Kinsley glances up at the woman who was raped, and I don’t know what she sees, but something changes inside of her. She has renewed strength at what she must do, and this time, she hits Karp with all the power she has. As she does, her face seems content and satisfied.
 

She moves again, and this time, a hint of a grin forms on her face as Karp groans loudly. I watch the pleasure spread through her body as she hits him. I don’t know what the pleasure is from.
Is it from inflicting pain on another person?
 

I try to close my eyes. I try not to see the pleasure engulfing her body with each whip, but I can’t keep my eyes off of her. She stops for a second to remove her jacket, exposing her bare stomach and black lace bra. Now, there is no way I will ever be able to take my eyes off of her again. She looks sexy, standing there, with a whip in her hand, and I suddenly want her to be whipping me, not him. Even though the whip in her hand is a million times more painful than the one she used on me, I still want it.
 

I want to feel the sting of it on my skin as she looks at me with desire.
 

She whips again, but this time, Karp doesn’t scream. I look at him, and I think he has passed out from the pain. She needs to stop. She could kill him.
 

But she doesn’t stop. Kinsley lifts the whip and thrusts it forward again and again.
 

Each time she does, my cock grows harder and harder. Each time, I want to beg for her to touch me, to whip me. Each time she whips him, I see the desire growing behind her eyes as well.
 

We’re twisted, so twisted. We are both aroused by her whipping another man. A man who might already be in the process of dying. But we are both too far gone to care about the man. All we are thinking about is our own selfish desires.
 

I watch her pant with lust and need as she quickly hits him, each time going faster and faster. My breathing picks up, and my heart rate builds to an unbearable pace. My cock twitches and aches for her. I feel like I’m going to burst if I don’t come soon. I’m afraid I will die if she doesn’t touch me.
 

She whips again, and this time, she screams an orgasmic, harsh scream that I haven’t heard from her before. The scream is enough. The pressure that has been building in both of us is suddenly gone. It left when she screamed. It’s gone, as simple as that, and it’s replaced with Kinsley’s anger. I see the rage forming the second the release disappeared. She becomes wild and lashes the end of the whip toward Karp, but her movements are no longer smooth and practiced. Now, they are wild and untamed.
 

Nacio walks over to her, barely missing getting hit by the whip himself. He tightly wraps his arms around her. “Enough. He’s had enough, baby.” He nestles his face in the crevice of her neck.

My face rages with so much anger as I see him touch her after such an intimate moment. I can feel the steam rolling off my bare skin.
 

Nacio tucks her hair behind her ear. “You did well, baby.”
 

I watch her breathing slow at his words, and I hate him. I hate him for comforting her. I hate him for calming her anger. I know that, once the anger at Karp is gone, once the anger at her situation completely disappears, a new hate will form. I’ve felt the hate before when I caused my brother’s death. When I thought I had failed Kinsley, I felt the same. Kinsley will hate herself.
 

I hate myself.
 

I should kill myself.
 

I should pull Nacio’s gun out from his waistband and kill myself. I am a horrible person. I can’t believe what I just did. I destroyed a man, and I enjoyed it. I’m just like Nacio. Just like Granddad. Just like my father.
 

I truly am a Felton. A monster.
 

I’m twisted. I just whipped a man, and I’ve never been more turned on. I don’t know if, once the whip got in my hand, the images of Killian came floating back or what. I don’t know if the need to bring the woman justice is what brought me so much pleasure, followed by intense anger. I don’t care what it was. I whipped a man, and I enjoyed it. I deserve to die.
 

Nacio slowly releases me and then looks to the women and children in the room. “Remember this. Remember what we do to our own men. To those we employ. Look at him.” Nacio points to Karp, who I swear must be dead against the pole.
 

His body is slack, and I don’t see his chest moving. He’s not breathing. He’s dead. I killed him. I killed someone. I feel the butterflies that I kept hidden forming in my stomach, making me queasy.
 

“Look at what we were willing to do to one of our own for fucking up. Then, imagine what we will do to you if you fuck up. Don’t disobey, or you will suffer ten times worse.”
 

Nacio nods at the men. They begin moving the women and children out of the room. I stand, frozen, as the women and children are removed. I don’t chance a glance at Killian even though I can feel his eyes on me. I can’t bear to look at him and see his disappointment in me.
 

The room empties, except for Nacio, Granddad, Karp, and me. Nacio, Granddad, and I stare at the man who is still bleeding in the center of the room.
 

Two men come back into the room.
 

“Get him down, and clean him up. Get him medical care if he needs it,” Nacio says.
 

The men exchange glances and then walk over to where Karp’s body is. He’s dead, I think, as his body falls to the ground in a limp pile. They cut the rope, keeping his arms attached to the rope.
 

He’s dead. I killed him.
 

The men reach under his arms, lifting him. Karp groans, proving me wrong. He is still very much alive—at least for now. The men begin dragging him out of the room.
 

I don’t wait. I can’t stand to be in here any longer.
 

I run past them before they get to the door. I need air. That is my only mission. I don’t care if it is breaking the rules. I need to get out of here.
 

My stomach begins churning as soon as I make it out of the room. I won’t make it down the stairs and outside before I lose it. I move to the hallway window that is a foot away from me. I try to push it open, but it doesn’t budge. I try the latch, but it is frozen. My stomach churns again, warning me that I don’t have much time. I glance out the window and see a balcony. It looks to be down the hallway, to my right.
 

I run as fast as I can, holding my stomach and praying that the contents won’t come up. I can’t let them see how I react. I have to get out of here. I push the door open to what used to be an apartment. I run across what looks to be an old living room to the sliding door of the balcony. I grab the handle to throw it open and am relieved when it creaks and opens enough for my body to fit through.
 

Breathe.
 

I finally breathe, and I taste the fresh air from outside. But the air isn’t enough to settle my sick stomach. I grab the railing just as the contents of my stomach come up. Thank God the street is empty, and no one is walking below me.
 

“Here,” Nacio suddenly says from behind me.
 

I come up for another breath between vomits.
 

I feel his hand on my back in a surprisingly comforting manner that I didn’t expect from him.
 

I turn to face him and see him holding a glass of water in his hand.
 

“Thanks,” I say, taking the glass from him. I sip on the water, and it immediately relaxes my stomach.
 

Nacio’s hand stays on my back, slowly moving in calming circles. Although this man became the monster that he is, I know there is something better inside him. He has kept some part of him buried for far too long. Maybe, if I can appeal to that part of him, he can help me put an end to all of this. I just need to find that small part of him again.
 

“You did amazing back there, baby. I’m proud of you.”
 

I shake my head. “And then I puked. I’m not sure I’ll ever be cut out for this job.”
 

He laughs. “Sure you will. It just takes some time to get used to the blood, to the smell. We have all puked before. It doesn’t take away from what you did back there.”
 

I nod.
 

“How do you feel?”
 

“Queasy and guilty that I enjoyed torturing another man.”
 

Nacio’s grin widens. “That’s what makes you cut out for this job. Nobody enjoys it if they aren’t cut out for this.”
 

I try to force a smile onto my own lips, but it’s hard. I don’t want to be cut out for this. I don’t want to be tempted into this world. I want to put a stop to this.
 

“Does that mean I passed?”
 

“Yes, but you still need to kill the FBI agent. After that, you will have full access to everything.”
 

“Have we heard anything about the FBI in Mexico?”
 

He moistens his lips as he tucks a loose strand of my hair behind my ear. “So impatient, baby. Don’t worry. You will get to kill him soon. We haven’t heard yet if the FBI has found our place in Mexico, but they will soon.”
 

I nod.
 

“Come on.” He holds his hand out to me. “I want to show you something.”
 

I place my hand in his, despite my gut telling me not to.
 

We walk back inside. We walk past the room where I beat a man almost to death. I try not to look inside as we pass. I pray that I don’t run into Granddad or Mother. I pray that we don’t run into anyone as we make our way back downstairs.
 

We don’t.
 

Nacio walks outside, still holding my hand, and that’s when I realize that I’m wearing a bra and jeans on the streets of Paris. Nacio notices my free arm curl around my stomach.
 

He pulls me to him in an awkward hold. “Stop. You’re beautiful.”
 

I smile, but I hate his words. I hate that a tiny butterfly returns to my stomach when he looks at me. I hate that I am even a little bit attracted to a man who isn’t Killian. I hate that I’m affected at all. I hate that I get the tiniest tingling for a man whom I watched kill an innocent woman.
 

As soon as the image of the woman comes back into my head, the tingling disappears. The butterfly in my stomach disappears. I gently pull out of his arms, not able to stand being in them.
 

“Where are we going?”
 

“My house,” he says, frowning at me as I stand two feet away from him instead of in his arms. “It’s fifteen blocks from here. You able to walk that far?”
 

I nod.
 

He holds his hand back out, and I place my hand back in his, despite the urge I have to keep my hands firmly wrapped around my midriff.
 

We walk in silence down the beautiful streets of Paris. We pass other couples who are holding hands, and they smile at us with knowing looks on their faces. They think we are together. They think we are lovers, but that is something we could never be.
 

We turn the corner, and I begin to feel the pain as I walk in my black heels. My feet are sore with blisters that I’m not used to experiencing, ones that shouldn’t be there after such a short walk. I pause for a second to try to fix the heels, so they stops rubbing against my blisters.

Nacio pauses with me and then steps in front of me. “Climb on.” He bends down a little, giving me his back.
 

I hesitate. I don’t want to climb onto his back, not unless I get to slit his throat when I do. I climb onto his back anyway because I know I won’t make it if I have to walk any farther. I don’t understand why we are walking at all, other than Nacio wanting an excuse for me to climb onto his back.
 

Nacio stands back up, tightly holding on to my legs, while I reluctantly hold on to his neck. I can’t help but breathe in his scent as we walk. The smell of his cologne makes me close my eyes as it reminds me of Killian. It’s not quite the same scent, but it’s close enough to bring me back to him. I remember that he is locked up in a cell somewhere in severe pain while I complain about my feet hurting. I really am a spoiled princess.
 

Nacio walks several more blocks before we turn another corner.
 

“This is your house?”
 

He sighs, relaxing at the sight of his palace that he calls his Paris home. A gate stands between us and his house, blocking some of the house, but I can tell from here that his house is at least three times the size of ours in Las Vegas.
 

“How were you able to afford something so grand? My family’s house in Las Vegas isn’t this large.”
 

“I inherited it from my father,” he says somberly.
 

I slide down his back, willing to walk the rest of the way to his house. We pause at the gate, and he enters a code. And then we take the quarter of a mile walk up the entrance gardens full of green trees and vines with just a few pops of color from the flowers. I don’t understand how a monster lives here.
 

We walk up to the door, and he unlocks it with a key he pulled from his pocket. I expect to immediately be greeted by staff members welcoming Nacio home, but I don’t see anyone rushing to us.
 

“Is anyone here?”
 

Nacio glances down at me, and his eyes widen. “You seriously think I would have staff here?”
 

I shrug. “Yes. Who cooks and cleans for you? Who does your laundry? Who takes care of the gardens?”