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Caught in the Devil's Snare

Page 4

by Dani Matthews


  I just want my backpack with my own clothes and to leave this nightmare behind. Anxious to wear something familiar, I hurry through the double doors and enter the bathroom. The sight of the posh room still manages to bring me to a halt.

  The walls are a rich brown, and light marble tiling leads to a jacuzzi on a platform situated in front of a large window that overlooks the city. To the left of the room is a long counter with two sinks, and above them is the biggest mirror I’ve ever laid eyes on. The room also contains a glass-enclosed shower with an enormous, round showerhead that had made me feel like I was standing in the rain.

  I swallow, trying to calm the anxiety building in my gut and look around for my clothing, but everything I’d left out to dry is gone. I’ve lost the very last items that were familiar to me, and the knowledge brings a sting to my eyes. I have nothing left. Not even my own clothing.

  I’d tried to stay awake last night, but too much had happened, and it’s likely that whatever I’d been drugged with had still been in my system. With a shaky hand, I press my fingers to my aching temple.

  I’m briefly distracted by my reflection in the mirror, and I move closer to it. Now that my hair has been washed, my blonde hair gleams in the light, and my skin looks smooth and creamy. I lean forward and spy the faint bruise across my temple. Lovely.

  Clothing. I need clothing, I remind myself as I try not to agonize over my meager belongings. Instead, I focus on the fact that someone will likely be coming for me soon, and I really don’t want to be in a bathrobe when they do. There’s no other option but to wear the clothing that had been left for me.

  I return to the bedroom and reach for the clothing and sandals before hesitating. I don’t have panties or a bra. My eyes slide to the white box, and my nose wrinkles. I reluctantly open it, scowling. Nestled upon tissue paper is a white, lace bra and matching panties—in my size.

  There is something so very wrong about how my morning is unfolding. Unfortunately, I need undergarments, so I snatch the scant pieces of fabric and rip off the tags, refusing to look at them. I slide on the panties beneath the robe before untying and slipping it off so that I can pull on the bra. After it’s secure, I peer down at myself. The lingerie fits perfectly. I’ve never worn anything this nice, and it feels strange.

  With a shake of my head, I direct my attention on the situation instead of the clothing. I tug on the shirt and pants, and lastly, the sandals—all while my eyes remain locked on the door that leads out of the room. Last night, the blond man had been standing outside it, preventing me from leaving. Is he still there?

  I cross the room and cautiously open it.

  The blond man is leaning against the opposite wall across from the doorway. When I’d opened it, he’d straightened to his full, towering height. His brows lower as he gives me an unfriendly look. In the morning light, his blond hair now looks darker, maybe a light brown? His features are handsome enough, but his nose is a little strong for his face. As for his eyes, they are blue and icy cold. He’s no longer wearing the jeans and sweatshirt he’d been wearing yesterday. Instead, a simple suit has replaced them.

  He takes a threatening step forward, reminding me that I’m just standing there, staring. Not one to wilt beneath a glare, I give him my middle finger before closing the door. I might be deaf, but I’m not stupid and can’t be pushed around.

  Folding my arms over my chest, I look around the room. How long do I have to stay here? This is ridiculous. I want answers. Feeling curious, I walk to the window and peer down below, searching for anything on the side of the building that resembles a fire escape or something. There’s nothing. Just unending glass windows.

  I make my way into the bathroom and climb into the jacuzzi to peer out the window located above it. No fire escape there, either. I won’t be leaving until I’m allowed. With one last glare around the extravagant room, I enter the bedroom and come to an abrupt halt.

  A well-dressed man stands in the center of the room, a tray in hand. He’s tall, but then again, everyone is tall compared to me. His light blond hair is cut short, and his face is angular and attractive. Brown eyes are fixed on me, and there’s a look of authority in his gaze.

  Who the hell is he?

  He sets the tray on the chest at the end of the bed and faces me, making no move to come closer. When his lips begin to move, I quickly focus on them. “I’ve brought you breakfast. Eat.”

  When he turns to leave, I hurry after him, my hands signing, wait!

  He opens the door, but then briefly turns to look back at me, a hint of compassion entering his gaze. “You will be leaving after certain arrangements have been made. Until then, eat and remain in this room.” With that said, he leaves and closes the door.

  I stand there, glowering. That’s it? With an exasperated look at the door, I turn and walk to the tray. When I see the omelet and smell the heavenly aroma, my stomach twinges with hunger. When was the last time I’d eaten anything that hadn’t been dug out of a dumpster? Hash browns are nestled next to the omelet, and beside them is a slice of toast with strawberry or blueberry jam spread across it. A glass of orange juice is positioned next to the plate.

  My mouth begins to water, and an internal battle begins to ensue. I want to eat, but what if it’s drugged? I move to the bed and climb up on it, sitting cross-legged as I face the tray on the chest. I pick up the orange juice and peer at it closely, looking for specks of powder. I don’t see anything suspicious, but I still lift it above my head and squint at the bottom of the glass. No white residue at the bottom. I set it back down on the tray, debating what to do. My traitorous stomach begs me to fill it.

  I’ve already concluded that they’re not going to kill me. They have no reason to drug me into submission, because really, what can I do? They outweigh me and are much stronger. Whether I like it or not, I’m at their mercy.

  He’d said I’ll be leaving after arrangements have been made. The thought leaves me very uneasy. I have no idea what I’ll be walking into later, and a full belly would be more beneficial than an empty one.

  Looks like I’m eating.

  I pick up the fork, and after a hesitation, I dig into the omelet.

  * * *

  I have no idea how much time has passed, but the same blond-haired man that’d brought me breakfast, had also brought me lunch a few hours earlier. As the hours pass by, I’m left to pace the room as I wait.

  At first, the mysterious arrangements had caused a heaviness to settle in the pit of stomach, but as mid-afternoon turned to late, that heaviness had faded to anxiety. All the scenarios I keep imagining have me on edge, and the wait has turned to torture. I just want to meet my fate and be done with it.

  I’m sitting in the chair next to the windows when the door opens. It’s the blond man, and I rise to my feet—my expression tense.

  He’s still wearing the dark suit from earlier, and though he’s not smiling, his expression is more approachable than the other man that’d been guarding the door. His brown eyes meet mine. “We will be leaving now,” he tells me.

  I sign, Where?

  “We will talk when we get there.”

  I frown, but he looks at me expectantly, motioning that I can now cross the threshold of the room’s doorway. When I exit the room, the guard from earlier is nowhere in sight. The man who’d retrieved me walks beside me, his warm hand on the small of my back. It’s not out of politeness. He wants to control where I go.

  I catch a glimpse of a large, spacious room with a vaulted ceiling and floor-to-ceiling glass window panes that run the entire length of one wall. A modern chandelier hangs from the ceiling, and located below it is a circular, black sectional that looks like it’s made of leather. Before I can look around further or take in the scenic view outside the windows, the man applies firm pressure against my back, leading me down another hall.

  I gaze around at the nondescript gray walls and gleaming black tiles. A set of double doors are at the end, and the man reaches around me and opens the d
oor on the right, ushering me into a small foyer. Again, the walls are gray and the tiles black. Glossy, black elevator doors slide open for us, and before I’m steered inside, I spy a door in the corner of the foyer labeled Emergency Exit.

  The doors slide closed, and I turn my attention on the man. He’s standing beside the doors, his expression unreadable. It’s difficult keeping my hands at my sides instead of signing everything I want to ask. American Sign Language is said to be the fourth most-used language in the US, but ever since I’d been cast out of the system upon turning eighteen, I haven’t run across anyone fluent in ASL. It’s frustrating not being able to communicate with others.

  When the doors open once more, I’m led into a small, underground garage. The man urges me towards a black SUV, and I immediately balk. I’ve been telling myself that they’re not going to kill me, but there’s no guarantee that they haven’t changed their minds.

  The man lightly taps my shoulder, and I look up at him with surprise. I’d expected him to shove me into the vehicle regardless of my reluctance, but instead, he gazes down at me. “You will not be harmed. You have my word,” he says, his lips moving clearly so that I can read them.

  I search his expression, and he patiently holds my gaze for a long minute. He could be lying, but why go to these lengths to ease my discomfort if he’s just going to kill me anyway? Tossing me into the SUV would have been easier than trying to calm my fear.

  I nod to let him know that I understand. This time, I turn and duck my head, climbing into the expensive vehicle. It smells of leather and a hint of men’s cologne. There’s a man in the driver’s seat, and he continues facing forward instead of looking my way. After the blond man closes the side door, he moves to the passenger door and opens it, climbing in.

  They’re leaving me alone in the back? That’s a good sign. Plus, my wrists aren’t bound. So far, so good. I reach for the seatbelt and secure it across my lap. Then, I watch avidly as the driver guides the SUV to a private garage door, and then we’re driving through a secondary parking garage.

  Seconds later, we’re pulling out onto a congested street filled with taxis and buses. As we slow behind the long line of vehicles stopped at an intersection, I crane my head to peer up at the building we’d just left. It’s so tall that my eyes squint against the sunlight reflecting off all the glass windows. It’s a modern high-rise that looks to be a classy hotel.

  As the SUV inches forward, I turn my attention back to my situation. I’m half-tempted to open the door next to me and fling myself out into the street. I glance at the men in the front, and neither of them are watching me. The doors are likely locked since they don’t seem concerned that I might escape. I have no choice but to wait and see where they’re taking me.

  As we make our way through the crowded streets, I watch out the window beside me. I think we’re in Manhattan. When we pass through Times Square a brief time later, I gaze with fascination at all the flashing billboards that seem so much bigger in person. I feel unimaginably small surrounded by so many skyscrapers. When it dawns on me that I’m acting like a tourist instead of the victim of a kidnapping, I frown and yank my eyes from the sights to glance at the men in the front seats. Neither are speaking, or if they were, they’re not now.

  Five minutes later, the SUV slows and pulls alongside a curb. My heart pounds in my chest when I realize we’ve reached our destination. I unbuckle my seatbelt and slide across the seat to the other side of the car and peer out the window. We’ve stopped in front of an old, mid-rise apartment building that looks to be about fifteen stories.

  My door opens, and I waste no time scrambling out of the vehicle. I take in the busy sidewalk full of pedestrians and the many storefronts located up and down the street. I could scream, and this ordeal will come to a very abrupt end.

  The blond man’s face appears before me, and his eyes hold mine. When his lips move, I lower my gaze to read them. “Fifteen minutes, and then you’ll be on your own, free to do as you please. Do you understand?”

  I look at him with puzzlement. What does he mean I’ll be on my own?

  His lips move again. “Don’t mess this up. This is all for your benefit, not mine.”

  My benefit?

  He touches my waist, urging me towards the canopied entrance of the building. I’m still bewildered by his comment as he steers me beneath the canopy, and a doorman holds one of the glass doors open for us. The man beside me politely nods at him as we pass by.

  The lobby’s flooring consists of gleaming, creamy tiles with small, brown designs located every so often—connecting the large tiles. Elegant chandeliers hang from the ceiling, and I’m led to the front desk where a nicely dressed man stands. He looks at us expectantly.

  My captor’s lips begin to move, and I try to watch what he’s saying. I think I catch my name, but then we’re walking away before I can figure out the rest.

  The lobby boasts a few luxury sofas near an elaborate fireplace, but I don’t get the chance to examine the lobby further, because we’re approaching an elevator. We’re the only ones going up, and we step inside. I watch as the eleventh-floor button is pressed.

  Okay, so I’m not going to lose my life since there are too many witness. So what gives? Why am I here? When the elevator doors slide open, I’m escorted down the hall to the last door on the left. It’s a nice, sturdy door with elegant gold numbers declaring it as unit thirty-nine.

  I watch as the man pulls out a set of keys and unlocks the door. He pushes it open and motions for me to enter the apartment. Suspicion flares, and I look at him warily before stepping inside, bracing for whatever comes next.

  I blink with confusion.

  The apartment is completely unfurnished, and no one else appears to be around. I scan the large room, not quite sure what to do now. The floor is beautiful hardwood, and two tall windows allow the late afternoon sunlight to filter in, brightening the white walls. Pale blue, floor-length curtains frame the windows.

  A French door across the room draws my attention, and it likely leads to the rest of the apartment. I turn and look at the man questioningly. I don’t understand why we’re here.

  He holds out the key ring with the two attached keys dangling from it. “This is your apartment,” he explains.

  Instead of accepting the keys, I gape at him. Had we entered the Twilight Zone when I wasn’t paying attention?

  When I don’t make a move to accept the keys, he pulls out an envelope and cellphone from the inner pocket of his suit jacket. After he’s certain he has my attention, he says, “The apartment has been leased for a full year, the phone is yours, and there’s money in the envelope. You’ll receive a monthly allowance the first of every month.”

  My lips part, and I lift my hands to decline everything, but then I smartly drop them back to my sides. He’d said that he only wanted fifteen minutes of my time, and then he was leaving. Right now, it doesn’t matter what he’s claiming. Once he leaves I’ll sort out this crazy mess.

  He holds out the keys, envelope, and phone.

  I carefully accept them and search his gaze to see if this is some sort of joke. If it is, it’s a sick one.

  His lips almost curve up into a smile. “Everything you need is here. If you have any problems, just request Greg down in the lobby.” He pulls out a second phone and looks at me expectantly. “I just need a photo before I leave, and then you can familiarize yourself with the layout of the apartment and the surrounding area. There are plenty of stores within walking distance.”

  I take an automatic step back. Photo? He wants a photo? What kind of photo?

  “It’s for your new ID. It’ll be delivered tomorrow,” he explains, noting my unease.

  I’m beyond lost, and I gaze at him as if he’s sprouted horns.

  He motions me towards the white wall, holding up his phone. “Just a quick picture,” he claims.

  One photo and he’s leaving, I remind myself. I can handle a simple photo. It’s not like he’s asking me to take
off my clothes. I walk to the wall and stand in front of it. He holds up the phone and arches an eyebrow, evidently waiting for me to smile.

  I tilt my lips sarcastically. I mean really, last night I’d been kidnapped and had a gun held to my head. Now I’m having a photo taken for a new ID?

  He takes the photo, studies it, and nods. “I’ll be on my way. Enjoy your good fortune.” With that said, he turns and strides to the door, leaving without a backward glance.

  The second the door closes, I rush over and quickly slide the deadbolt into place and secure the chain lock. He’s gone. He’d actually left. A part of me hadn’t believed that he would honor his word.

  I turn and look around the room with bewilderment. This is real. The bearded man leased an apartment for me. Why? Extravagant things are never given freely without the expectation of something in return. A new thought creeps up on me, and I stiffen. Does he think I can be coerced into some sort of…prostitution?

  Oh, hell no.

  The first thing I need to do is see if I’m alone. I move away from the door and cross the empty room before approaching the single French door. I’m still holding the keys, manila envelope, and the black phone.

  The French door leads me into a clean, blindingly white kitchen. Cream tiles gleam, and the only color in the room comes from the stainless-steel appliances. The atmosphere is impersonal and stark, and I wrinkle my nose with distaste.

  A hallway draws my attention, and I hesitantly follow it, peeking into a small laundry room on the left. When I glance into the room on the right, I see a bathroom. Again, everything is white. There’s a toilet against the far wall beneath a window, and to the right, is a white cabinet with a sink. A mirror is attached to the wall above it. To the left is an enclosed shower with a frosted glass door.

 

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