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No. I shook my head hard. He’d promised to protect me. He wouldn’t turn his back on me. I was his wife. In name only, but still…
I used the toilet and washed my hands. Should I shower? No one said I couldn’t. I turned on the water and waited until the steam fogged up the mirror. Then I took off my leggings and blouse—the clothes I’d been wearing at the restaurant with Reid—and stepped under the showerhead.
The water scalded me. I jumped out of the spray and worked the knob until it was a temperature I could handle. Then I stood under the rain for a few minutes, letting it warm me and soothe me.
I had no idea what was happening, why I was here.
But Reid would come for me. I had to believe that.
I shampooed my hair, cleaned my body, and then stepped out of the shower and wrapped one of the towels around me. They weren’t the huge bath sheets Reid used, but they weren’t bad. Not threadbare at all.
This was all so strange.
I wrapped my wet hair into a turban with another towel and then walked back into the room.
I gasped.
A trolley holding a tray of food awaited me. Someone had come in while I was showering. I hadn’t heard a thing.
Try not to make much noise, Diamond had said.
If I couldn’t make noise, whoever was taking care of me probably couldn’t either. Or maybe I just hadn’t heard anyone come in because of the shower.
The plate held a croissant, a hardboiled egg, and three thin slices of ham. A glass of orange juice completed the meal.
When I saw the food, my stomach reacted with a growl. I was hungry. I hadn’t eaten the meal with Reid at the restaurant. In fact… My mind raced. I hadn’t even ordered, had I? How long since I’d last eaten?
My tummy was a little queasy—probably from whatever they’d drugged me with—but I could try some of the food. The croissant would be relatively harmless.
I sat down on my bed and pulled the cart holding the tray in front of me. I tore off a piece of croissant and put it in my mouth.
The buttery softness burst across my tongue.
Easy, Zee. Don’t eat too much or you might make yourself sick. I tore off another small piece, and then another. Then I swallowed a sip of the orange juice…and found that it wasn’t orange juice. It was something tropical. Mango, maybe? It was sweet and delicious. A far cry from the plain meat patty and potato I’d found the last time I was captive.
Captive.
Yeah, this might be a decent room and a nice meal, but I was definitely captive. I’d been taken against my will, the door was locked, and I had no idea where I was or how much time had passed.
I finished half the croissant, one slice of ham, and three quarters of the juice. My stomach rumbled for more, but I wanted to see how it reacted to the food before I crammed the rest of it down.
Would someone come by to collect the cart and tray?
I had no idea.
I had nothing with me. No purse. No ID. No suitcase of clothes. I had only the clothes still on the floor and the two towels covering me. No TV. No books.
Nothing.
All I could do was lie on the bed and wait.
21
Reid
David and Michael Bush sat in economy class on an evening flight to Helena. David, the older brother, wore jeans, a Pink Floyd T-shirt, and a New York Yankees ball cap. Michael, the younger, wore beige cargo pants, a plain white T-shirt, a brown beanie, and wire-rimmed glasses.
They were both uncomfortable, being over six feet tall. Coach seats weren’t made for people over six feet tall.
No one had glanced their way when they boarded the full flight.
No one glanced their way now.
David sat in the aisle seat and Michael in the middle in row twenty-nine of the aircraft. Settled in the window seat was a gray-haired woman. She’d fallen asleep shortly after takeoff.
I looked over at David, who was, of course, Rock. “She’s sawing logs.”
He nodded. We’d made a vow not to talk at all on the flight unless it was absolutely necessary.
As far as everyone else in the family was concerned, save Riley, we were on the way to the island in the Pacific.
“I don’t like it,” Rock whispered.
I nodded. He didn’t like leaving Lacey in the dark. Neither did I, but it was the only option. We had to stay under the radar. Even under our family’s radar, if we were going to pull this off.
I took off the glasses. They were smudged again. How did people deal with wearing glasses all the time? They constantly got dirty. I wiped them on the edge of my T-shirt and then put them back on my nose. Damn. They were worse than they’d been before. I ached for my contacts.
