The Billionaire and the Bad Girl
Page 11
“Move along, McKinnon.” She waved at the man standing behind Kat for him to approach the counter.
That was it. At least she had money for a cab.
Should she go to this address on the card, whatever it was? She deliberated on it while she walked out of the station. As soon as she was outside, she took a deep breath of fresh air and welcomed the feeling of the sun on her skin. It had only been a little more than three days since she had been arrested, but it felt like years had passed.
She looked down at the card she still held, turning it in her fingers.
Should I go?
She plugged the address into her Google Maps app. It was only a few miles away from the station, whatever it was. When she looked up the address online, however, nothing came up. No website, not even an entry for a phone number or business name. She bit down on her bottom lip, lost in indecision.
This wasn’t like her at all. Normally, she would jump at the chance of getting to the bottom of a mystery like this. Today was different. This was a half a million dollar enigma, and she had just spent her first three nights in prison. Decisiveness did not come easily at the moment. In any case, she couldn’t stand on the steps to the police precinct all day. She walked to the curb and hailed a cab. The driver asked where she was headed.
Fuck it. I’m going.
She gave him the obscure address. It was time to find whoever it was that bailed her out and thank the person. Besides, she was dying to know who it was—not to mention what they expected in return.
Minutes later she was standing in front of a nondescript but well maintained brownstone. Well, what had she been expecting? Neon lights? A red carpet? Something a little more than this, at least. She walked up the front stairs, pressing her finger to the bell. What the hell sort of set-up was she in the middle of?
A gorgeous, dark-skinned girl opened the door, her red lips curved into a ready smile. Hooker, Kat immediately thought. This is a whorehouse. She’d crossed paths with enough high-class call girls to know one when she saw one. They were nuts if they thought she’d work her debt off that way.
“Miss McKinnon, we’ve been expecting you,” the woman said in a warm, inviting voice. “My name is Chanel. Please, come in.”
The hair on the back of Kat’s neck stood up. Her instinct was to turn and run. She had no tangible reason for doing so, but her gut was on high alert. Centering herself, she walked through the ornate door. Beyond it was a darkened entryway. The dim lighting, dark wallpaper and lingering smell of cigar smoke added to her impression of an upscale, exclusive lounge. It didn’t answer any questions, though.
“Who am I meeting here?” Kat just wanted to cut to the chase. “Who bailed me out?”
“I’m not sure exactly what you’re referring to,” the other girl said, her voice still warm and calm. Like velvet. This was definitely a call girl. “I was asked to escort you to one of our private rooms. You’ll receive more information there.”
“Can you at least let me know where I am?” Kat insisted. She wouldn’t move another inch until she had more details.
The girl smiled serenely. “It’s a private men’s clubs, Miss McKinnon. That’s all I can tell you. Follow me, please.”
This didn’t help. It sure didn’t explain what Kat was doing here, or who she was about to meet, although at least she has a decent sense she wasn’t being roped into some kind of sex slave ring. Or maybe she was. There was still no way of knowing. She followed Chanel’s lead down a long hall. Suspicious and on guard, she swept her eyes around the space, taking in the sounds and smells, as well as a few sights of what and who were behind a few of the doors left slightly open.
All the windows she passed on one long section of the hall were hung with red velvet drapes. The chairs and sofas either rich brown leather or red velvet. Crystal chandeliers, wall sconces. Highly polished wood along the walls, under her feet. Several well stocked bars, a few billiards tables. She took it all in, keeping track of distance, direction and everything she could call a landmark if she had to get out of there in a hurry.
They got into an elevator at the end of the hall and went up two flights to the third floor. “This is where our private rooms are located,” Chanel explained. Kat’s eyes widened.
Really?
Sex?
That’s what I was brought here for?
That’s some fucked up shit.
Her feet were heavy as she followed Chanel to one of the rooms. It was large, and screamed luxury, with a king-sized bed covered in what Kat knew were wildly expensive linens. Two antique night tables, ornate lamps, some well-placed art and a large fireplace with an intricately carved mantel completed the decor.
Chanel held out a blindfold.
“What is this?” Kat asked, tensing.
“A blindfold.”
“For what?”
“To protect the identity of your host.”
“And who’s going to protect me?”
“You’re safe here,” Chanel assured her. “No one here will hurt you. Please. Put it on.”
“I don’t think so.”
“Miss McKinnon, your host will not speak with you without it.”
Dammit.
“All right.” Kat had a seat in the chair facing the door, and took the blindfold. She draped it over her eyes, tying it behind her head.
She sat perfectly still, tuning into her other senses, heightened now that her sight was gone. She wasn’t afraid of this—she was used to working in the dark. It was more not knowing what was coming next that she didn’t like.
Who the hell was behind this?
Continues in
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