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“His what?”
“His Dominatrix. He pays me to beat the shit out of him.”
Scott Hammons chuckled. “And why would he do that.”
“Because he’s crazy. He steals and cheats people. People like you. And just so he doesn’t feel too badly about it, he enjoys getting slapped around to ease his conscience.”
Scott stood and poured himself another whiskey. “I saw the way he looked at you. He’s in love with you. I’ve sent him your photos—photos of you—like this. I’m sure I’ll be hearing from him soon.”
Addie didn’t skip a beat. “Perhaps.”
“Perhaps what?” He asked, confused.
“Perhaps he’ll come. Perhaps he won’t.” Addie replied matter of factly.
Scott Hammon’s face reddened. He stood, throwing his glass and against the wall, watching as it shattered into a million pieces. “What do you mean perhaps?”
Addie thought quickly. “I’m blackmailing him, so if he shows up, it’ll only to be so that he can kill me himself.”
Scott stumbled to the corner of the room, clearly drunk. He walked towards the crank he used to suspend her in the air. Addie remembered vaguely waking up that way before. He cranked the chains she was attached to as she slowly rose until she hovered off the ground. Walking furiously towards the cage, he grabbed the belt from the table. Addie squeezed her eyes shut. He was angry. And he was going to take it out on her, which meant he was buying it. Scott struggled with the lock. Addie remained quiet, unwilling to give him satisfaction and not wanting to further incite his anger. He continued struggling with the lock, which only
infuriated him more, until finally he managed to open it. Once inside, he raised the whip, striking her across the backside with as much force as he could muster. Addie held her breath. He walked around the front, striking her again. Smelling the mixture of blood and whiskey, she continued to remain silent. He hit her twice more until he seemed spent. “You’re trying to trick me.”
Addie stared him straight in the eye and called his bluff. “If you’re going to kill me, do it now. Because I’d rather you do it than give William Hartman the satisfaction, if and when he shows up.” Scott stared at the ground, thinking. “It’s clear that you have a lot of anger towards William Hartman. I don’t blame you. I hate the bastard, too, which is why I’m blackmailing him. What I want to know is what he did to you that made you hate him so much? I can’t imagine it’s worse than what he’s done to me.”
Rapport building. That’s what this was called. Addie thanked God for her training as Domme; she had never guessed in a million years that it might one day help save her own life. “Because if you’d like, I can tell you what he did to me. It’s a thousand times worse than any beating you could give me. Hell, you could do this all day long and it wouldn’t touch what he’s done.”
Addie studied Scott Hammon’s face. The look across it was blank. For the first time she could swear she saw a subtle hint of emotion, somewhere down deep, locked inside. He closed the cage, though he didn’t replace the lock, and took his seat in the chair. Picking up the whiskey, he drank straight from the bottle. “William Hartman stole my life. He took everything: my family, my business . . . everything. And the Bible says: ‘Thou shall not steal.’ William stole. And now he has to die.”
Addie spoke slowly, carefully choosing her words. “William stole my dignity. He used me, and when I didn’t want him, when I didn’t love him in return because I knew he was a sick man devoid of any emotion, he took what he could get. He robbed me of thousands of dollars, cost me my job, and I learned that within a month or so my children and I were going find ourselves out on the street. So that’s when I decided to take matters into my own hands and blackmail him. Show him what it feels like to have your world come crashing down around you and be left with nothing. Trust me. The death you have planned for me here means nothing in comparison to what that’s like. No amount of suffering can top what he’s done to me. Or what he had forced me to do in return. I will repay him, even in death, if that’s what it takes.”
Scott Hammons sat for a long time in silence, finishing off his whiskey. When the bottle was empty, he turned and climbed the stairs without bothering to lock the cage. Addie knew it was a win but only a small one. Eventually, he would have to figure out what to do with her. And she wasn’t placing any bets on him letting her walk out of there alive.
William woke to the sound of his phone buzzing, startling him. He must have drifted off and had been dreaming of Addison. They were in Capri. He was standing on the beach, and she was in the water, when all of a sudden she began drifting further and further away from shore. She was calling to him for help, but his feet wouldn’t budge. He was stuck in the sand, and slowly it was changing to quicksand. He was sinking further and further, and there was nothing he could do to stop it. He couldn’t reach her. He couldn’t save her or himself.
Taking his phone, he went to the sink and splashed cold water on his face. He dried his eyes and clicked his phone on. Two new texts. William gasped as he opened the first one. It was a picture of Addison: naked, bloodied, bruised, and beaten. William felt the tears sting his eyes. Running, he barged into the room his security team had set up in. Out of breath, he panted. “Anything?” All eyes were on him.
Carl stood and ushered William to a chair. “Sit. What is it, William? You’re as pale as a ghost.”
William exhaled, handing his phone to Carl. “It’s me. This is my fault.”
Carl took his phone and examined the contents: two texts, two incredibly graphic photos of Addison Greyer naked and badly beaten, and a demand:
William, we play by my rules now. If you ever want to see the woman you love again, meet me where Middle Creek Road and Monarch Ranch Road intersect, tomorrow at noon, sharp. Come alone and unarmed. Do not notify the authorities. Do not bring members of your security team. There will be a car waiting there with keys in it and a phone. Get in, drive, and wait for my call. Do exactly as I say. If you break any of my rules, she dies. If you fail my test, the next text you receive will be a video of Mrs. Greyer’s beheading.
Carl handed the phone to one of the security guys. “See if you can pull any data from that. I think the intersection he mentions isn’t too far from where Mrs. Greyer’s vehicle was found. Get me the maps. And run all of the home sites within a hundred-mile radius. It’s remote. Find out who lives there.”
Carl ushered William to the living room. William sat with his head in his hands. “She’s the only thing I’ve ever really loved. Goddammit, Carl, I did this. Whoever this is, is doing this because of me. If she’s harmed any further than she already has been, I don’t know what I’ll do.”
Carl sighed. “I understand, Mr. Hartman. And it’s my opinion that we hand this over to the FBI and let them do what they do. This is serious, William. The photographs clearly show us what this perpetrator is capable of. I don’t think we should play around here.”
William stood and walked to the window, taking in the Austin skyline. It was beautiful at night. But the only thing William could think about was the fact that Addison was out there somewhere, hurt and in danger. It was his fault. He never should’ve gotten involved and put her at risk. He hadn’t properly protected her, knowing that he was a target and because she was seeing him that she would be too. He should’ve known better. But out of all the questions that plagued him, weighing so heavily on his mind, there was one that bothered him the most. Why hadn’t he fought harder? He could’ve won. He always won. If only he’d tried harder. Why didn’t he try harder? It was quite possible that Addison would die at the hands of this madman. Not only would it be his fault but she would never know how much he truly loved her because he was a fucking coward. When the going got tough, he preferred to save his own ass, and so he ran, trying to avoid the pain. And yet here he was.
“No, Carl. We’re doing as he says. No cops. I’ll use every dime I have to my name, if I have to, to nail this bastard, but no cops. First, we’ll play by his rules. And then we’ll play by mine.”
Addie struggled against her chains. She scooted inch by inch, careful not to make too much noise. It must have taken hours, but finally she reached the edge of the cage. Unfortunately for her, that was about the time there was no more give in the chains. She was stuck.
Searching high and low desperately, she tried to come up with a solution. There was no way to get the cuffs off of her wrists. Her ankles had a little more give but not much. She’d have to buy time and earn Scott Hammons’ trust. Other than that, there was no way out. The only problem was Addie didn’t have time. She’d seen enough movies to know that the longer she was held captive the less likely she was to get out alive.
