“This is for you as well!” he blurted. “It might not feel like it right now, but if we hadn’t stepped in ...”
“If you hadn’t stepped in, what?”
“Nothing. Just don’t always treat us like we’re the enemies.”
My eyebrows practically shot off my forehead. “Seriously? You are the enemies! No one else kidnapped me.”
“What would those agents have done with you?”
“Nothing! They just wanted to ask me a few questions.”
He snorted and shook his head like I was an idiot. “Sure, they did.”
“What aren’t you telling me?”
He stared at me for a moment, and I actually thought he was about to open his mouth and tell me what the hell was going on, but then he shook his head. “You’ll find out soon enough. As soon as Isaac gets here.”
“When will this Isaac arrive?”
“Soon,” he said. “Now, stop your yapping, or you’re going to get me in trouble.”
Good, I thought but didn’t say. It wasn’t as though I cared if he got into trouble. Hell, I wanted him to, and I’d watch and enjoy it while he did. Clay might act charming and boyish, but he’d been the one who’d yanked me back down the stairs when I’d tried to run. Though I had to admit, my bruises weren’t feeling as bad today. The stuff Kingsley had rubbed into my skin had actually helped. I wondered if he was going to instigate a second performance today. I wasn’t sure what I would say if he did. Would I tell him to go away, or would I throw myself down on the bed in anticipation?
No, I couldn’t stop fighting and give in to them.
I watched Clay take the tray from the room then lock the door behind him.
If Isaac was on his way, I needed to be prepared. My thoughts went to the razorblade in the bathroom. Clay had suggested a shower and a change of clothes, and I had to admit that I felt grubby. But more importantly, I could use it as an excuse to try to create a weapon.
I went to the drawers where Clay had said there were clothes for me. I’d only peeked in them before, checking if there was anything handy in it for me to use. I hadn’t thought I’d be here long enough to start worrying about my wardrobe, and yet here I was. I pulled open the top drawer to find underwear. A shudder ran through me at the idea of these guys shopping to buy this stuff. Had they done it with me in mind, or could I have been any girl? If so, they obviously had some idea of the kind of shape they liked their women to be, as most of this stuff was about my size. It was, however, fairly sensible clothing, and I was relieved to see nothing kinky, nothing that looked like an outfit that had been purchased to dress me up and display me in. The panties were all still in little cellophane wrappers, and a couple of tissue covered bundles revealed bras. They were a little big on the cup size, but they were better than my current option of nothing. I selected jeans—also a little too big—and a t-shirt that would fit me fine.
Clutching the clothes to my chest, I went to the bathroom. I glanced up at the corners, still unsure if there were cameras in here. Surely with the shower running, any camera lenses would steam up and the men wouldn’t be able to see anything?
I used the toilet, and leaned over the sink to brush my teeth, thankful for the new toothbrush. It occurred to me that I shouldn’t be thankful for anything. I had a perfectly good electric toothbrush at home. I wouldn’t have needed a new one if they hadn’t snatched me from the street and brought me here. I had to remember that. Even in the odd moments of kindness, or even that strange, overprotective thing they did, I had to remember that they were the bad guys.
I glanced around nervously as I rid myself of my jeans, and then pulled my t-shirt over my head. I still expected to catch sight of a blinking red light somewhere, and the idea of the four men all sitting in front of a screen, watching me undress, did something strange to my insides. I used one arm to cover my breasts, and slid open the shower door with my other hand. I twisted on the faucet, and water fell from the showerhead, hitting the base in a rhythmical thrumming that reminded me of rain.
Everything was just as I’d left it—the shampoo, conditioner, body wash, and foam and razor, all in the little silver holder on the far side of the shower wall. As I’d hoped, steam started to fill the small space, and I figured it would soon grow thick enough to hide my antics just in case I was being watched.
Moving quickly, I rolled my underwear down my thighs and stepped out of them, leaving them bunched up on the floor, and then stood beneath the water. The stream hit the areas of bruising I had, and I winced at first, but gradually relaxed as the heat helped to loosen my tense muscles. My eyes slipped shut and I leaned back, allowing the water to run through my hair, massaging my scalp and warming me through. I could almost fool myself into thinking this was all perfectly normal. I had to remember why I was there, and it wasn’t to enjoy the shower.
Quickly, I used some soap to wash my body then put some through my hair and rinsed it out. I checked the plastic screen of the door. The steam had gone some way to clouding it up, and I doubted anyone would be able to see anything more than blurry skin colored movement on the other side. Even so, my heart pattered, my stomach coiling with nerves and my mouth running dry. I picked up the disposable razor and checked it. Could I break the plastic without injuring myself as well? I wouldn’t be able to do it with my hands. I spotted the metal base of the shaving foam they’d provided.
Crouching, I placed the razor so the blades faced up, then lifted the bottle of foam. I brought it down hard on the top of the razor head, wincing at the loud crack it made. Would any of the men have heard that?
I checked the blade. The top of the plastic casing had cracked, but I needed more. I lifted the can up once more, already wincing in anticipation of the sound, and brought it back down. A piece of plastic hung off one part of the blade. Careful not to cut myself, knowing one of the men would notice and question how I had injured myself, I used my fingers to pick it away. It wasn’t enough to free the slivers of metal inside.
I used the end of the can again, being more precise, grinding and using pressure this time instead of randomly slamming it down. I managed to get one side of the plastic away from the blade, then got to work on the other side. The shower continued to drum down around me, and I became aware of the time passing by. Had I been in here too long? Would the men slam through the bathroom door at any moment and demand to know what I was doing in here?
But thankfully, the final piece of plastic came loose and I was able to pick the blade from the casing. I picked up all the small pieces of shattered plastic, and held them in one hand while I cupped the blade in the other. After switching off the shower, I opened the screen door far enough to allow me to reach out and snag the towel. I wrapped the towel around my body, pulling the soft material tight around the top of my breasts, my hair wet and dripping down my back. Then I placed the blade at the top of the towel, right at my breast bone, and rolled the towel down one more time, folding the blade inside the fabric.
The broken pieces of the razor were cupped in my hand. I needed to figure out what to do with them. If any of the guys saw, they’d know right away what I’d done, then they’d search me and my room, and I’d lose any element of surprise.
I stepped out of the shower, and bent to pick up the clean clothes I’d brought in, using the time to scan the small space and figure out what to do with the plastic. I spotted somewhere, and quickly pretended to drop the t-shirt, giving me an excuse to bend down. I leaned forward and hid the remnants of the case behind the pipes leading to the toilet. Hopefully, the men wouldn’t notice the disposable razor was missing. I hadn’t seen any of them even come into the bathroom yet, so there was a chance they wouldn’t think to check. Maybe they thought one woman with a tiny razor blade wouldn’t be able to do the four of them much harm. They might be right, but then again, there was always the chance they weren’t.
Needing somewhere to hide the blade so it would be within easy reach when I needed it, I left the bathroom and went back int
o the bedroom. My gaze darted around the room, trying to spot a good place. Somewhere behind the staircase, in my little cubbyhole, would be best. The area was dappled with shadows and wasn’t somewhere the men could see as they were walking down the stairs, giving me enough time to grab the blade if needed.
I started toward the stairs when the door opened at the top of the stairs and Alex appeared. He saw me in just a towel and frowned slightly. I clutched the towel closer to my body, though I wasn’t worried about him finding me half undressed. All of my focus was on the blade I now had wrapped up in the top of the towel. Was he here because he knew what I’d done? Had they all watched my struggles, knowing they’d come straight down here and take it off me again at the first opportunity?
“You need to get dressed,” he said, his expression unreadable.
“What do you think I’m doing?”
I was worried he’d notice something was wrong. My insides felt like liquid, and it was all I could do to stop myself trembling.
His cool blue gaze traveled across my naked shoulders. The towel barely covered the tops of my thighs, especially as I’d rolled the top up to hide the blade. I didn’t like feeling so exposed. I wished I’d gotten dressed in the bathroom, but it had been so steamy in there, my clothes would have been a struggle to get on, and besides, I’d wanted to figure out what to do with the blade.
Alex’s gaze skimmed back down my body, alighting on my naked thighs. I watched his Adam’s apple bob up and down as he swallowed hard and then glanced away. He was normally so unflustered, but the sight of my naked skin had affected him. I didn’t want to go down that route, but I’d use it if I had to, and I lodged the observation away in the back of my mind for future use. If these men had weaknesses, I’d use them to my advantage. The main thing was that he didn’t seem to know about the razor blade. Either there were no cameras in the bathroom, or the ploy with the steam had worked.
“Hurry up about it,” he said. “You’re going to have a visitor.”
I tensed. “I am? Who?”
“The person we’ve been waiting for, and I’m sure you wouldn’t like to meet him while you’re half naked. He isn’t someone you want to mess with.”
And with that, Alex turned and left me, my hair still dripping down my back and onto the floor.
My mouth ran dry.
I was about to meet Isaac.
Chapter Ten
Still holding the towel around me, clutching the top so the razorblade didn’t fall out, I pulled on my underwear and my jeans underneath the towel, and then whipped out the blade, cupping it in my palm. I allowed the towel to drop to the floor, and quickly slipped on the bra that was slightly too big, before pulling on the long-sleeved t-shirt I’d found in the dresser.
I needed to figure out what to do with my weapon. There seemed little point in following through with my original plan and stashing it beneath the stairs, not if Isaac was already on his way. I needed to keep the blade on my person. I wanted to have easy access to it, but it was too sharp to put in the pocket of my jeans. I imagined sitting down only to have it cut through the material and slice into my skin. Plus, fiddling around to try to pull it out would cost me time, and I wanted to be ready. I didn’t know what this Isaac planned to do with me, but if he saw me reaching into my pocket for something, he was bound to act first.
Thinking hard, feeling time slipping away from me, I tried to figure out what to do.
I remembered something I’d had in my jeans pocket when I’d been brought here, and shoved my hand in, feeling around for what I needed. My fingers touched the loop of elastic, and I pulled out the hair band.
To hide my actions from prying eyes, I turned and hurried back into the bathroom.
I didn’t intend on using the band for my hair. Instead, I snapped the elastic around my wrist, and then slipped the blade into it, so the slip of metal lay flat against the inside of my arm. With that done, I pulled the sleeve of the t-shirt over both the band and the blade, hiding it from view.
Standing in front of the sink, I tried to push down my nerves. The steam had cleared now, running in condensation down the mirror and the walls of the shower. I lifted my hand and swiped my palm across the glass. My blonde hair was wet and tangled, matted to my head, and automatically I dragged my fingers through it, trying to free up some of the knots. Bloodshot trails ran across the whites of my eyes, and shadows the color of storm clouds hung beneath them. Though it had only been twenty-four hours or so since I’d last seen sunlight, my tan had already leached from my skin.
Isaac would be here soon. What would he want from me? What would he be like? I imagined him as the roughest and toughest of all the men, older, like a big biker or something. The others didn’t seem to want to mess with him. At least I was armed now, though the blade would be useless against a gun. Still, it was something, and I felt less helpless by taking control, however small a thing, and not just sitting and awaiting my fate.
I left the bathroom, my knuckles pressed against my mouth. Unable to sit still, I paced the floor, every muscle tensed in anticipation of Isaac’s arrival. My ears strained for any sign that he was on his way. It wasn’t Isaac himself that frightened me, but the fact things would change for me when he did. I’d almost given up, thinking he wasn’t coming, when the sound of heavy feet came at the door, the creaking of floorboards from the other side. My stomach crawled into my throat. I stared, wide-eyed, at the staircase, my heart racing in fear and anticipation. Was I about to learn my fate?
The door opened, and a man appeared in the doorway. The bright light of the hallway behind him caused his face to be gilded in shadows, but I could see he wore an expensive dark gray suit, with a white shirt beneath, and smart black shoes. This was not the big biker I’d been imagining. He started to make his way down the stairs, and I instinctively took a couple of steps back to put some extra space between us. I still had the blade, held by the hair band to the inside of my wrist.
He reached the bottom of the stairs and turned to face me.
Isaac was the kind of good-looking that snatched my breath and made my heart flip inside my chest. I hated that I had this kind of reaction to him. I got the impression he knew how he looked as well, and the effect it had on me, and that made things even worse. For the first time in my life, I wished I was gay. At least then I wouldn’t need to worry about my thoughts being spun all over the place by the sight of a handsome face.
His light brown hair was well cut and swept away from his face with some kind of product. Designer stubble peppered his square jaw. His eyes had a spark to them, light green in color, with flecks of gold that I could see even at this distance. He wasn’t overly tall, less than six feet, with a lean build which looked good beneath the cut of his suit.
One corner of his perfect lips turned up in a smile. “Now, if this isn’t Darcy Sullivan.”
He had an accent. Isaac was English.
I folded my arms across my chest. “And I’m going to guess you’re Isaac.”
He smiled disarmingly. “Your guess is correct. It’s good to finally meet you.”
I scowled. “I’m not going to say likewise.”
His gaze flicked up and down my body, but landed back at my face. “I knew you were pretty from your photographs, but you really are quite stunning.”
“Photographs?” The idea he had photographs of me creeped me out even further. Plus, I was wearing clothes that were a size too big, my face was free from makeup, and my hair was still damp and tangled. I’d never felt less stunning in my life.
“How else would we have known who was the right person to take?”
I tightened my arms around my body. “So, you’re admitting that you planned to have me kidnapped?”
“Of course. You’re here, aren’t you? I’m sorry we couldn’t do this in a more civilized way, but there simply wasn’t time.”
“Time for what?”
“To convince you this was the right thing to do.”
A laugh burst from
my throat. “Convince me? No, you certainly wouldn’t have convinced me. I would never willingly have gone with you, or any of those other guys, and allowed myself to be locked up down here.”
His head tilted to one side as he regarded me, his green eyes narrowing slightly. “Even if it meant saving your life.”
I shook my head in disbelief. “That’s bullshit. You did nothing to save my life. Your men killed FBI agents and then kidnapped me. You’re totally delusional if you think anything else.”
“The guys have been good to you since you’ve been here, though, haven’t they? They were under strict instruction to make sure you were taken care of.”
“They taped my hands and feet, and threw a bag over my head. That hardly sounds like I was taken care of.”
“Ah, but that part was a necessity. They’ve already filled me in on your little escape attempt as well, so I won’t blame them for any injury caused then, either.”
Escape. His word made me think of the blade pressed against my skin, and my cheeks burned hot. Would he somehow read my plans on my face? I worried that the sharp edge of the blade would dig into my skin and blood would start to dribble down the inside of my wrist and run off my fingertips. I only had a small window where I could try to use it as a weapon. If I left it too long, it would be discovered.
“Where are the others now?” I asked, trying to take my mind off the razor.
He glanced toward the stairs. “Otherwise occupied. I wanted a few moments alone with you.”
Fear struck my heart, and I took a step away, swallowing hard. “Why?”
“To see how receptive you’d be.” He stepped toward me, and I moved back again, as though we were doing some strange dance.
Receptive? Receptive to what?
“Don’t come any closer,” I warned him.
Hacking Darkness Page 7