Enticed:A Dangerous Connection (Secrets)

by Carlson, Melody

  We drive for a few more minutes as the man beside me talks to someone on his phone, announcing that we’re almost there. And then after the car comes to a complete stop, my blindfold is removed. “Is that better?” the man beside me asks.

  I blink into the light, then quickly take in his shaved head, dark glasses, and smirking grin. He appears to be in his thirties or forties and I notice a tattoo on his left hand. Some kind of symbol. I also notice the shining blade of a knife in his other hand.

  “Now if you promise to be a good little girl, I’ll cut your hands free before we go inside. Mr. T prefers it that way, but if you’re going to be difficult, we’ll just wait until you’re inside.”

  “I won’t be difficult.” Not yet anyway.

  “Smart girl.” He slices through the cords with one quick stroke.

  I rub my wrists and wait. As far as I can see, the car is parked under some kind of entry to a house that appears to be made of stone. The fortress. And now one of the huge wooden doors opens and a tall man dressed in black steps out, looking from side to side, and then he nods toward the car.

  “Scotty’s giving us the green light,” Mitch says. “Take her out.”

  “Here’s the deal,” the man next to me says as he gives me a shove from behind. “Don’t try anything and no one gets hurt. Just get out of the car and we’ll walk over to Scotty nice and easy. You got that?”

  “Yes.”

  He reaches in front of me and opens the door, pushing me out so we both emerge from the car almost simultaneously. “Here’s your bag.” He hands it to me. “Here’s your girl,” he says to Scotty.

  Scotty just nods, and taking me by the arm, he escorts me up to the big double doors, but before we go inside, I glance to my right and am reassured to see that it looks like this house is part of a neighborhood — a very swanky neighborhood. But having houses nearby gives me hope.

  Scotty leads me into a dimly lit foyer. “Welcome,” he says in a deep voice.

  “Thanks …” I mumble as the door closes.

  “Right this way.” He leads me toward a gracefully curving staircase. “Mr. T is up there.” His grip on my arm tightens as he leads me up the stairs, almost as if he expects me to put up a fight. But I just go along with him. My plan is to play this calm and cool.

  “This is a beautiful house,” I say, trying to sound natural.

  “Yes, it is.” He pauses at the top of the stairs, looking directly at me. “And just so you know, it’s a very secure house. We have a top-of-the-line security system.” He points out a surveillance camera on a high wall. “Always watching.” He walks me down a hallway with several doors. “And we have a pair of Dobermans that guard the grounds. So everyone stays very safe here.” He smiles, and if I’d met him under other circumstances, I would’ve assumed he was just a nice guy. “I hope you enjoy your stay, miss.”

  “Thank you.” I force a nervous smile.

  “The master suite,” he says as he taps lightly on the door. My knees begin to really shake as the door is opened.

  “Come in, come in,” a friendly male voice says. I feel like I’m about to faint or throw up or maybe even both. Instead I pray for deliverance.

  … [CHAPTER 19]………………

  Scotty gives me a little boost into the room, and suddenly I am standing face-to-face with a man, but I’m surprised to see he is nothing like the monster I’ve imagined.

  “Are you Mr. T?” I ask as the door behind me closes.

  “That’s what some people call me.” He smiles as he smoothes his graying hair back. It’s damp and I’m guessing he’s just taken a shower. Now he reaches behind me, quickly punching a security code onto the security pad by the door. No keys needed here. Just numbers. I wish I’d been watching more closely. “And you are Serena Delray,” he says in a friendly way. “It’s a pleasure to meet you.”

  I bite my lip, trying to think of something to say, but everything feels so bizarre and unreal. Mr. T just looks like an ordinary man. Okay, a really wealthy ordinary man. But he’s not even big. Probably just an inch or two taller than me. Average height and weight and rather average looking. He could be somebody’s dad … or grandpa.

  He puts a hand on my shoulder. “Are you all right?”

  “Uh … well, not really,” I say in a shaky voice. “I, uh, I feel kind of faint.”

  “Come over here and sit down.” He gently leads me over to a seating area by a large set of windows. “You’re probably just having a bad case of nerves. It’s to be expected.” He eases me down into a brown velvet chair and I sink into its comforting form.

  I study his face as he stands over me. It’s tanned and lined, but it doesn’t look unkind or criminal or menacing. And yet he does this? He pays big money to bring in girls like me? I cannot even wrap my head around it.

  “I know what you’re thinking.” He sits in the velvet chair across from me. He studies me with cool blue eyes. “You don’t understand why someone of my class and caliber pays to have girls brought to him, right?”

  I nod, swallowing against the dryness in my throat. “It seems odd.”

  “Yes, I’m sure it does.” He frowns.

  Suddenly I remember the packet of crushed pills in my bra and I remember the lines I rehearsed earlier. I reach up and touch my throat. “I feel kind of parched. May I please have a drink?”

  “Certainly.” He stands. “What would you like?”

  “Just water is fine. Or soda if you have it.”

  “Oh, I have everything.” He goes over to what looks like a mini bar and opens a small fridge and lists off the options.

  “Cola is fine.”

  I hear the sound of ice clinking into a glass and before long he joins me, not with just one glass, but two. Exactly like Tatiana had predicted. I quickly suck down my cola, as if I’m parched, which I actually am.

  “Need a refill?”

  Now I make an uncertain expression. “Yes … I suppose so.” I point at his glass that has something clear with a lime. “What are you drinking?”

  He chuckles. “Gin and tonic.”

  “Is that alcohol?”

  He holds it up, takes a sip, then nods. “You bet it is.”

  “I’ve never really drank alcohol. But maybe it’s time I gave it a try. I mean, if it’s okay.”

  “Sure. I’ll make you one.”

  Then as he returns to the bar, I discreetly slip the packet from my bra. Hopefully I’m not on camera in here. As he mixes my drink, I open the packet and slip it into the sleeve of my left hand. And just like Tatiana predicted, he returns quickly with my drink, setting it down on the table between the two chairs.

  “Thank you,” I say as I reach for it and take a big sip, which tastes so nasty I don’t even have to pretend to hate it. I gasp and sputter and make a face. “Ugh. I’m sorry, but that tastes terrible. How can you stand it?”

  He just laughs. “I suppose it is an acquired taste.”

  I wrinkle my nose. “Not for me.” Now I get a thoughtful look. “But aren’t there drinks that are sweet and fruity? A friend of mine likes something called Long Island iced tea. Do you think that would be good?”

  His brows arch slightly. “Yes. That might be just what you need to help you relax a little.” He takes my previous drink and returns to the bar, and as he’s distracted by pulling out some bottles and ingredients, I slip out the packet and quickly dump it into his drink, praying that I’m not being watched right now. To my dismay the powder is sitting on the surface of the drink, just like Ruby predicted.

  “This is a really pretty house,” I say to him, keeping my eye on him as I attempt to mix the powder into his drink with my finger. “You must be a very wealthy man.” I lean back just as he looks up.

  “Oh yes, you could say that.”

  I stand up now, acting interested in the view from the window but really looking for my next opportunity to stir the powder down into that drink. “That’s a beautiful backyard. And a swimming pool, too. Wow.” Seeing him fo
cused on opening a bottle, I reach over and continue stirring frantically, keeping my eyes on him the whole while.

  “Come on over here,” he calls out.

  Worried that he’s suspicious, I go on over.

  He watches as I walk toward him. “Very pretty.” He nods with approval as he stirs a tall glass. “Tom tells me you’re from Los Angeles.”

  I nod nervously. “That’s right.”

  “Well, that should do it.” He hands me the drink.

  I take a cautious sniff.

  “Go ahead, try it.”

  I put my hand to my head. “Mind if I sit back down first? I’m still feeling a little dizzy.”

  “By all means.” He waves his hand toward the chairs. “Sit. I always like to get to know my dates. Makes it more personal, if you know what I mean.”

  I shrug as I go back to my chair. “I guess. But to be honest, this is all completely new to me.”

  He smiles as he sits down. “Yes, that is precisely how I like it, my dear.”

  I hold up my drink. “Well, what do you say? I mean, is there a toast? Or is it just bottoms up?”

  He chuckles as he picks up his glass, holding it toward me. I try not to look at his drink, but I’m praying there’s no telltale powder floating on top and that there’s no bad taste, although I’m not sure how anything could taste worse than the gin and tonic as it was. “Here’s to you, my dear girl, and to a memorable evening. You just let Mr. T take care of you and all will be well. I promise.”

  We clink glasses and then I take a swig. “Hey, that’s not too bad. Is that really a Long Island iced tea?”

  “As best I can recall, it is.” He takes a sip of his drink, and I realize it’s up to me to distract him with chatter, to keep him talking and drinking until it’s gone. Every last drop.

  “This is an interesting outfit you picked out for me,” I say as I smooth out my skirt. “Is there any special reason?”

  He nods with a faraway look. “Yes, I suppose there is.”

  When he doesn’t expound on his answer, I decide to run with it anyway. “Did you go to an expensive private school as a boy?”

  He smiles. “As a matter of fact.”

  “And I’ll bet you had a girlfriend there, right?”

  He just takes another sip, as if he doesn’t want to really talk about this.

  “Or maybe it was a crush?” I take a sip. “There was a girl you really wanted to get to know, but maybe you were shy … or she was shy … but I’ll bet she was really pretty.” I force a smile. “And I’m sure you were good-looking too.”

  His brows barely lift and I can tell that I’m making him slightly uncomfortable, but at least he’s still drinking. I continue talking to him, spinning a story about how I had a crush on a boy, but the boy didn’t know I existed. Part of it’s true and part of it’s make-believe. “But then I started to get pretty. And Leo started paying attention to me.” I lean forward, peering at Mr. T. “He wanted to go out with me. And you know what I did?”

  “No, what did you do?”

  “I told him to forget about it,” I say triumphantly.

  Mr. T laughs. “Good for you.”

  “Yes.” I hold my glass up like I’m making another toast. “Here’s to holding out for you.” I feel like hurling at this thought, but I am determined to get that drink down him.

  He takes another drink. “You’re quite a girl, Serena.”

  “Thank you.” Now I look at my glass and am surprised to see it’s only half full. Hopefully it’s not enough to really make me drunk. That would not be good.

  “Go ahead and finish it,” he urges me. “I think it’s helping you to relax.”

  I giggle and point to his drink. “Is that helping you relax?”

  He chuckles like this is funny, and then to my relief, he downs the last of his drink. And now I pretend to be sipping on mine, but I’m really worried that I’m starting to feel light-headed. So I stand. “Hey, do you have anything to eat up here?” I walk back over to the bar area.

  “Oh yeah, sure. There’s cheese and olives in the fridge. Maybe some fruit, too. And some crackers in that cabinet. I’ve arranged for us to have a late dinner … after we get to know each other better.”

  I continue chattering at him as I help myself to his food, and I can tell by his slowing responses that the pills are starting to take effect. But not wanting him to be suspicious, I keep talking and even go back to the chairs, offering a piece of cheese to him. But he just waves his hand. However, he is slumping in the chair now.

  I keep on talking, just the way Ruby told me the girl in the book did, only I speak a little slower. Maybe I hope to hypnotize him as I ramble on and on, telling him of how I once dreamed of being a model and how my elderly neighbor was helping me, how she used to be a professional model but manages a clothing store now. “She thought I might have what it takes.” I walk back and forth, showing him some of the moves she taught me.

  “But then Mrs. Norbert fell and broke her hip,” I continue slowly, noticing that his eyes are closed. “It was pretty sad. She had to go live with her daughter and …” I pause to see if he’s even listening, but he appears to be soundly sleeping.

  Suddenly I’m worried that I could be watched, but I don’t want to blow it by looking around for a security camera. Instead I pretend like he’s still awake. “Now, Mr. T, if you’ll excuse me, I need to use the restroom.” I put down my half-full glass. Then I go off in search of a bathroom, hoping there might be a way to sneak out a window. But even though I can get it open, when I peer down I see that it’s a straight drop down to the front circular driveway. Even if I could scale the stone siding, it would be dangerous and I suspect a surveillance camera might be out there.

  I flush the toilet for effect, then wander back out to check on my host. He seems to be completely knocked out. I actually wonder if I’ve given him a dose big enough to kill him. I hope not. I’d rather he go to prison than die.

  I look out the window that overlooks the pool, but seeing the dogs down there like Scotty told me, I know that’s not a good idea. Next I explore behind a door and find a big closet with built-in drawers and dozens of men’s suits and shirts and things. But no windows, and as far as I can see, there is no way out of here. I go look in another closet that, to my surprise, seems to belong to a woman. Does Mr. T have a wife? And if so, where is she? And what does she think about his secret life? Does she even know?

  Like the other closet, I assume this one has no window, but then I notice something up near the ceiling behind some hat boxes. I pull out some of the built-in drawers, and using them like stairs, I climb up until I can see that it is indeed a window — a long, narrow one, but it does open. By now I’m pretty sure that if there are surveillance cameras in the master suite, they must be turned off. Maybe for Mr. T’s privacy. But even if they’re not, I’m going to try to make my break.

  Praying that I’m thin enough to fit through the narrow opening, I squeeze my head out and look down. Thankfully, this window is not facing the front street or the backyard. It seems to be on the side of the house and about six feet below is a section of tiled roof. I go out the window backward, easing myself down feet first onto what look like slippery tiles.

  With a prayer, I begin my descent, sliding out the window until I’m holding to the edge of it and getting my feet securely on the tiles. Now I crouch down, looking around to see if there’s a camera nearby or if anyone down below can see me.

  Satisfied that I’m still in the clear, I work my way to the side of this overhang, the end that’s toward the street since I want to avoid those dogs. When I get to the edge, I can’t believe my luck. Directly below is some kind of garden structure with flowering vines growing over it. I’m not sure if it’s strong enough to support my weight, but it’s a chance I must take. I ease myself onto it and it seems to be holding. Feeling like a monkey, I work my way out to the street side and then swing down, landing in the grass.

  I don’t pause to think,
I just take off running. My plan is to get several houses away from here. As I run, I pray that God will show me which house to stop at. I start to head up to a big brick house with an American flag flying out front, but something stops me. I have nothing against flags. But something just doesn’t feel right.

  So, trying not to look too conspicuous, I turn and continue on down the street, pausing by a tall white house with a pair of pink flamingos in the front yard. These plastic birds look out of place in this fancy, upscale neighborhood. And yet they’re inviting. Hoping these people have a sense of humor as well as good hearts, I run up to the door and ring the doorbell.

  … [CHAPTER 20]………………

  Cowering in the shadows of the covered porch area, I glance up and down the street to see if anyone is watching or coming after me. Everything looks perfectly normal, and yet my heart is pounding in my chest like a bass drum. Please be home, I pray silently, please be home!

  An older woman opens the door, peering curiously at me. “Yes?”

  “Sorry to disturb you, ma’am,” I say breathlessly. “But I need your help. I’ve been kidnapped and — ”

  “Are you serious?” She frowns doubtfully at me, peering over my shoulder. “Is this some kind of joke? Candid camera?”

  “No joke,” I say quickly. “I swear to you — as God is my witness, it’s true. My name is Simi Fremont. I was abducted from the LA area a couple weeks ago. My mom’s name is Ginnie Fremont and — ” I start to cry. “Please — please — help me before the men come after me again.”

  Just like that, she grabs me by the arm, jerks me into her house, and locks the door behind me. “You better be on the up-and-up,” she says sternly. But now I’m bawling uncontrollably. It’s like all the emotions I’ve been holding inside me are bursting out and I can’t stop myself.

  The woman goes for her phone. “I’m calling 911 right now,” she says like it’s a warning. “So if this is a stunt, you’d better — ”