by Britney King
Sondra crossed her arms, feeling uneasy. “I just need to know.”
Carl nodded. “Simon Peter was one of the twelve apostles of Jesus. The leader—he was known for bringing people to Jesus.”
Sondra didn’t follow. “Ok?”
Carl spoke slowly, carefully choosing his words. “The name this person, this client, choose to give, gives us a glimpse into his mental state.”
Sondra tilted her head. “Couldn’t it just be a coincidence?”
“It’s possible, just highly unlikely.”
Addie heard the sounds of doors opening. She opened her eyes as best she could. Barely able to open her eyes, she saw the man walk towards her, noticing him holding something. Reflexively, she flinched.
“Steady now.” The man said.
She tried to move, wiggling just a little. She felt the jab and then the sting as something went into her arm. Addie tried to jerk away but couldn’t. Everything was so hazy. She was so tired.
The man’s voice spoke so close she felt his breath on her ear. “I told you, if you keep moving like that I’m going to have to keep doing this. You’re a hardheaded little bitch, aren’t you?”
Addie forced an eye open. It took all the strength she had, but she managed to shake her head. He’s drugging you. Pull it together. You know this man. You know this voice. Think Addison. Think.
The man laughed. “Rest well, little whore. Rest well. You’re going to needed it.”
Addie heard him close the door to her cage and then the rattling of keys. She heard his feet climb the stairs when all of a sudden the room went pitch black. In matter of seconds, she was out cold again.
William’s team was able to track down Addie’s iPhone within a matter of hours. From there, they were able to locate her car, which had been found abandoned, her purse still inside. At that point, it became clear that they needed to get the police involved. William and Sondra met with the police and then the FBI, each of them giving limited details regarding their respective relationships with Addison Greyer. William explained that he was just a friend trying to help Sondra. And Sondra was just Addison Greyer’s boss. She felt no need to indulge any further. After all this had to do with Addie’s work at the agency, not at Seven. But William and Sondra were smart. They both knew it was only a matter of time before the real truth would come out. Fortunately for them and for Addison, the longer that was avoided, the better. Because once the truth was out, it would mark a noticeable shift in the investigation. The truth would turn the investigation inward, when the authorities would stop looking for the person who really held Addison Greyer captive, and instead focus solely on those who were lying. Unfortunately for Addie, this shift would likely prove fatal.
The police contacted Patrick, who chartered a flight home. William reached out to all of the major media outlets and pulled strings, getting Addison’s picture out and scoring Sondra interviews on the next day’s morning shows. All of a sudden, there was a flurry of activity, the situation becoming overwhelmingly intense. It was clearly evident that, due to the circumstances surrounding Addie’s disappearance, all parties understood that time was of the essence.
Eighteen
Addison awoke to liquid being forced down her throat. She was choking, drowning. Through the ringing in her ears, she heard the sound of a camera. It was snapping photos. Click. Click. Click.
“Wake up bitch.” He slapped her over and over. “You’re fucking this up.”
She felt the vomit come up. Addie forced her eyes open. She was being hosed down and the water was cold. So cold. The man was standing above her, an angry expression on his face. She sat up as best she could.
“You stupid bitch. I thought you ruined everything.” The man repeated over and over.
Addie sensed déjà vu. She had been in this situation before. She had woken like this before. Observing her surroundings, she took everything in. Badly beaten and bleeding, she tasted a mixture of blood and something else . . . vomit. Her hands and feet were shackled, and she was in a small cage, maybe five by five feet. They looked to be in a basement of some sort. It was smelly, dark, and cold, so it had to be underground.
“Good. You’re coming around,” the man called, dropping the hose. Addie stared at him. She knew him. He was the man on the boat—the man from Capri.
Addie chose her words carefully. “Mr. Hammons?”
The man laughed an evil laugh. “That would be me.”
Addie cocked her head to the side and waited.
The man walked to a table set up in the corner. He grabbed a plate and walked toward Addie, placing a sandwich in her hand. “I bet you’re wondering what you’re doing here, huh?”
Wolfing down the sandwich as though she hadn’t eaten in days, Addie stared at Scott Hammons, analyzing him. She thought back on the times she’d woken up. How many was it now? Three or four? There was the first time, the time she was beaten and suspended. Then there was the time he masturbated in front of her and then this time. Although, she had no idea how long she’d been out, Addie assumed that it had been long enough that people were beginning to look for her. Her thoughts went to the boys as she imagined their faces and her hugging them in the kitchen.
Addie blinked. “I am wondering, yes.”
Scott closed the cage door and locked it, dragging the chair across the room; he sat and folded his arms, watching her as he sipped what smelled like a glass of whiskey. Addie wasn’t sure he was going to answer, until finally he spoke. “You’re William Hartman’s whore. That’s what you’re doing here. He owes me. And I’m collecting on what’s due.”
Addie sat up straighter. Play dumb. “I’m afraid I don’t understand.”
“Your lover boy, he stole from me. It’s his turn to pay up, which is why you’re here.”
Listen. And buy time. He’s going to kill you. Addie thought for a moment, considering how she’d respond. With sudden clarity, she devised a plan, her Domme training kicking in full gear. She laughed louder than the situation probably called for. “You think I’m William’s whore? That’s funny.”
The man’s face went pale. Clearly, Scott Hammons was taken aback. He eyed Addie up and down and kicked back his whiskey. “Don’t fuck with me, bitch.”
“I’m not William’s whore. I’m his Dominatrix. And the bastard owes me a lot of money. So I highly doubt he gives a shit whether I live or die.”
“His what?”
“His Dominatrix. He pays me to beat the shit out of him.”
Scott Hammons chuckled. “And why would he do that.”
“Because he’s crazy. He steals and cheats people. People like you. And just so he doesn’t feel too badly about it, he enjoys getting slapped around to ease his conscience.”
Scott stood and poured himself another whiskey. “I saw the way he looked at you. He’s in love with you. I’ve sent him your photos—photos of you—like this. I’m sure I’ll be hearing from him soon.”
Addie didn’t skip a beat. “Perhaps.”
“Perhaps what?” He asked, confused.
“Perhaps he’ll come. Perhaps he won’t.” Addie replied matter of factly.
Scott Hammon’s face reddened. He stood, throwing his glass and against the wall, watching as it shattered into a million pieces. “What do you mean perhaps?”
Addie thought quickly. “I’m blackmailing him, so if he shows up, it’ll only to be so that he can kill me himself.”
Scott stumbled to the corner of the room, clearly drunk. He walked towards the crank he used to suspend her in the air. Addie remembered vaguely waking up that way before. He cranked the chains she was attached to as she slowly rose until she hovered off the ground. Walking furiously towards the cage, he grabbed the belt from the table. Addie squeezed her eyes shut. He was angry. And he was going to take it out on her, which meant he was buying it. Scott struggled with the lock. Addie remained quiet, unwilling to give him satisfaction and not wanting to further incite his anger. He continued struggling with the lock, which only
infuriated him more, until finally he managed to open it. Once inside, he raised the whip, striking her across the backside with as much force as he could muster. Addie held her breath. He walked around the front, striking her again. Smelling the mixture of blood and whiskey, she continued to remain silent. He hit her twice more until he seemed spent. “You’re trying to trick me.”
Addie stared him straight in the eye and called his bluff. “If you’re going to kill me, do it now. Because I’d rather you do it than give William Hartman the satisfaction, if and when he shows up.” Scott stared at the ground, thinking. “It’s clear that you have a lot of anger towards William Hartman. I don’t blame you. I hate the bastard, too, which is why I’m blackmailing him. What I want to know is what he did to you that made you hate him so much? I can’t imagine it’s worse than what he’s done to me.”
Rapport building. That’s what this was called. Addie thanked God for her training as Domme; she had never guessed in a million years that it might one day help save her own life. “Because if you’d like, I can tell you what he did to me. It’s a thousand times worse than any beating you could give me. Hell, you could do this all day long and it wouldn’t touch what he’s done.”
Addie studied Scott Hammon’s face. The look across it was blank. For the first time she could swear she saw a subtle hint of emotion, somewhere down deep, locked inside. He closed the cage, though he didn’t replace the lock, and took his seat in the chair. Picking up the whiskey, he drank straight from the bottle. “William Hartman stole my life. He took everything: my family, my business . . . everything. And the Bible says: ‘Thou shall not steal.’ William stole. And now he has to die.”
Addie spoke slowly, carefully choosing her words. “William stole my dignity. He used me, and when I didn’t want him, when I didn’t love him in return because I knew he was a sick man devoid of any emotion, he took what he could get. He robbed me of thousands of dollars, cost me my job, and I learned that within a month or so my children and I were going find ourselves out on the street. So that’s when I decided to take matters into my own hands and blackmail him. Show him what it feels like to have your world come crashing down around you and be left with nothing. Trust me. The death you have planned for me here means nothing in comparison to what that’s like. No amount of suffering can top what he’s done to me. Or what he had forced me to do in return. I will repay him, even in death, if that’s what it takes.”
Scott Hammons sat for a long time in silence, finishing off his whiskey. When the bottle was empty, he turned and climbed the stairs without bothering to lock the cage. Addie knew it was a win but only a small one. Eventually, he would have to figure out what to do with her. And she wasn’t placing any bets on him letting her walk out of there alive.
William woke to the sound of his phone buzzing, startling him. He must have drifted off and had been dreaming of Addison. They were in Capri. He was standing on the beach, and she was in the water, when all of a sudden she began drifting further and further away from shore. She was calling to him for help, but his feet wouldn’t budge. He was stuck in the sand, and slowly it was changing to quicksand. He was sinking further and further, and there was nothing he could do to stop it. He couldn’t reach her. He couldn’t save her or himself.
Taking his phone, he went to the sink and splashed cold water on his face. He dried his eyes and clicked his phone on. Two new texts. William gasped as he opened the first one. It was a picture of Addison: naked, bloodied, bruised, and beaten. William felt the tears sting his eyes. Running, he barged into the room his security team had set up in. Out of breath, he panted. “Anything?” All eyes were on him.
Carl stood and ushered William to a chair. “Sit. What is it, William? You’re as pale as a ghost.”
William exhaled, handing his phone to Carl. “It’s me. This is my fault.”
Carl took his phone and examined the contents: two texts, two incredibly graphic photos of Addison Greyer naked and badly beaten, and a demand:
William, we play by my rules now. If you ever want to see the woman you love again, meet me where Middle Creek Road and Monarch Ranch Road intersect, tomorrow at noon, sharp. Come alone and unarmed. Do not notify the authorities. Do not bring members of your security team. There will be a car waiting there with keys in it and a phone. Get in, drive, and wait for my call. Do exactly as I say. If you break any of my rules, she dies. If you fail my test, the next text you receive will be a video of Mrs. Greyer’s beheading.
Carl handed the phone to one of the security guys. “See if you can pull any data from that. I think the intersection he mentions isn’t too far from where Mrs. Greyer’s vehicle was found. Get me the maps. And run all of the home sites within a hundred-mile radius. It’s remote. Find out who lives there.”
Carl ushered William to the living room. William sat with his head in his hands. “She’s the only thing I’ve ever really loved. Goddammit, Carl, I did this. Whoever this is, is doing this because of me. If she’s harmed any further than she already has been, I don’t know what I’ll do.”
Carl sighed. “I understand, Mr. Hartman. And it’s my opinion that we hand this over to the FBI and let them do what they do. This is serious, William. The photographs clearly show us what this perpetrator is capable of. I don’t think we should play around here.”
William stood and walked to the window, taking in the Austin skyline. It was beautiful at night. But the only thing William could think about was the fact that Addison was out there somewhere, hurt and in danger. It was his fault. He never should’ve gotten involved and put her at risk. He hadn’t properly protected her, knowing that he was a target and because she was seeing him that she would be too. He should’ve known better. But out of all the questions that plagued him, weighing so heavily on his mind, there was one that bothered him the most. Why hadn’t he fought harder? He could’ve won. He always won. If only he’d tried harder. Why didn’t he try harder? It was quite possible that Addison would die at the hands of this madman. Not only would it be his fault but she would never know how much he truly loved her because he was a fucking coward. When the going got tough, he preferred to save his own ass, and so he ran, trying to avoid the pain. And yet here he was.
“No, Carl. We’re doing as he says. No cops. I’ll use every dime I have to my name, if I have to, to nail this bastard, but no cops. First, we’ll play by his rules. And then we’ll play by mine.”
Addie struggled against her chains. She scooted inch by inch, careful not to make too much noise. It must have taken hours, but finally she reached the edge of the cage. Unfortunately for her, that was about the time there was no more give in the chains. She was stuck.
Searching high and low desperately, she tried to come up with a solution. There was no way to get the cuffs off of her wrists. Her ankles had a little more give but not much. She’d have to buy time and earn Scott Hammons’ trust. Other than that, there was no way out. The only problem was Addie didn’t have time. She’d seen enough movies to know that the longer she was held captive the less likely she was to get out alive.
Suddenly, it dawned on her. What if she were being watched? Scott would see that she had stretched her chains, trying to escape. Fear overtook her and she began shaking badly. She scooted inch-by-inch back to the center of the cage, each inch excruciatingly painful as her wounds brushed against the cold hard concrete. Addie quietly sobbed as she thought of her boys and the last time she saw their faces, laughing on the kitchen floor as she tickled them silly. They had to know by now that something was wrong. She imagined them crying, worried about her, alone, their mother and father both gone. Surely, Patrick would come home once he’d heard. God, she hoped someone was searching for her. They had to be.
Once back in her rightful spot in the middle of the cage, Addie lay there, the last few weeks replaying in her mind. So much had happened. She thought of William and the time they’d spent together. She wondered why it had taken so long for her to admit that she had feelings for him. Partly
, it was because she was married and had a family, but there was something more too. She had been scared—scared of getting hurt. Scared of putting it all on the line. It wasn’t until she found herself in this situation—naked, shackled, bleeding, and lying to save his life—that she realized that she would’ve gotten hurt either way. She should have just admitted that she loved him and spent their final days together, happy and oblivious. Now, she was in a race against time, knowing that William loved her enough to fall in to the madman’s trap, knowing that he would come to find her and that it would be her fault when he was murdered. Worst of all, he would die, never knowing what he meant to her. Addie knew she couldn’t let that happen.
Right then and there, she devised a plan to break free, realizing that if she didn’t die at the hands of Scott Hammons, she’d die of dehydration, starvation, or infection. Her time was up.
Addie lay as still as she could, waiting for the footsteps on the stairs. When they came, she inhaled once more, knowing what she had to do. Slowly, Scott Hammons descended. Addie heard him stop, likely glancing her way. She could smell the whiskey on his breath from across the room. He walked over to the table, picking up his tools of the trade: Tools of domination. Tools that made him superior. He wasn’t looking to become allies. He planned to beat her into submission. As a Dominatrix who had studied psychology and human behavior, she knew his techniques all too well.
“So you’re sleeping again. What did I tell you about sleeping?
Addie inhaled quietly but ignored his question. He asked again, demanding that she wake up. She could tell by the way he slurred his words that he was drunk. Addie prayed that this would give her a slight advantage.
Scott walked over to the cage. He paused, noticing it wasn’t locked. Addie could feel him standing there, thinking. She heard the whip rise and fall and felt it slash her skin. She didn’t budge.