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“After you left the other day, I took it upon myself to look into you. I had to make sure your story was true, and you weren’t a real threat. It was either that or go to the police and press charges. Of course, we can still arrange that.”
“No, there is no need to involve the police.” I jump up from my seat so fast I almost tip over. Steadying myself, I wipe my hands down the front of my jeans. “We were actually just about to leave.”
“That’s right,” Ainsley agrees, getting on her feet. “I think this is all just a big misunderstanding. I’ll just put in my application for the membership online.”
“I’m afraid we’re not taking any new members right now,” Mason explains as I reach for my friend and grab her wrist to pull her away.
“Got it! Bye, Mr. Sex on a Stick,” Ainsley yells over her shoulder as I drag her toward the exit. I don’t turn back around to look at Mason or anyone else.
“You didn’t tell me he looks like a lead in the nextMagic Mikemovie,” Ainsley says as soon as we’re back outside.
“That’s your takeaway? He knew your name!”
Ainsley rolls her eyes like it’s no big deal. “You know we both have social media, right? It doesn’t take a genius to figure out my name. Like you said, be glad he didn’t call the cops on you. We probably shouldn’t have come here.”
“IT WAS YOUR IDEA! You basically dragged me here.”
“Well, at least I got to go inside this mysterious hotel. And meeting hot stuff was just a bonus.” Ainsley beams like she just spent the day at Disney World.
I’m not going to say this out loud. But I kind of enjoyed seeing him again myself.
MASON
I can’t believeshe just showed up here. I figured after the ordeal the other day she would stay away as far as she could. I guess I underestimated my little fake massage therapist, which is something I rarely do. Something about her has me intrigued, but I already know I can’t let those pesky feelings influence me. I have to forget about her, but not before I make sure she’s safe, and that starts by eliminating the threat.
I think I’ve let my visitor marinate long enough. Like a hunk of meat, soaking in the juices he’s been submerged in these past few days. In the end, that’s all he is. Useless meat. A bag of organs.
But he might be useful, hence the reason for keeping him around. I have no doubt he considers himself a tough guy. Thugs like him always do. They’re all bluff and bluster, throwing their weight around, taking pleasure in terrorizing those smaller and weaker than they are. And it’s never their idea, these terrible things they do. It’s always at the bidding of someone higher up, someone with true power and influence. They’re nothing but tools.
Though typically, tools don’t enjoy the work they do. Far too many men like the one I’m about to visit take genuine enjoyment from their work. I haven’t met this Dave person yet, but I would not be surprised if he falls into the latter category.
No judgment from me. I’ve enjoyed my work more than once. I’m going to enjoy this, for example.
Griffin stopped him miles from Teagan’s apartment building. They were
in enough of a hurry that he ran a red light. They weren’t taking her out for something to eat. This was not a happy little afternoon out for these guys.
From what I’ve gleaned these past few days, good old Dave isn’t such a tough guy once he’s been stripped of everything he’s accustomed to. The absence of color, sunlight, human contact, and the simple privilege of using a bathroom rather than a bucket in the corner of the room make even the toughest, most disciplined soldiers lose their grip before long, and Dave is not in their league.
My lips twitch in anticipation as the elevator descends to the eleventh floor. A soft chime signals my arrival, and I step out into the hall once the doors glide open with a softwoosh.
Tank stands outside the locked door and nods in greeting when I approach. “He been fed this morning?” I ask. He nods again, then steps aside so I can see the tray Dave slid through the opening at the bottom of the door. The white plate looks like he licked it clean, and the white utensils might easily have come out of a dishwasher. I guess when you have nothing else to do, you make a big deal of the few tasks you’re allowed. “I won’t be long.”
Tank slides the key into the lock, and I bite back a grin when I imagine the way my guest’s heart must leap at the sound. Something different. Something new.
I open the door, and the first thing that hits me is the smell of what’s coming from the white bucket in the far corner of the room. Tank follows me inside, takes the bucket, and leaves to empty it so I can turn my full attention to the man crouched in the corner. The thin, rough hospital gown he wears is stained with sweat at the neck and under the arms, turning the stark white to a muted gray.
“My, it’s bright in here, isn’t it?” I look around, whistling softly, as Tank closes the door and leaves us in the pure white room. There’s no furniture in the space, which measures fifteen feet on all sides and was painted so expertly, that there isn’t so much as a scratch or a crack to break the effect of floating in nothingness after enough hours spent staring at the walls. “I can’t imagine it’s easy to sleep with all this light.”
He lifts his head, and I savor the absolute desperation radiating from his bloodshot eyes. “Please...” He licks his chapped lips and swallows, grimacing as he does. He’s had enough water to stay alive, but no more than that.
“Please? What are you pleading for?” I stand in the center of the room beneath one of the fluorescent lights that glares around the clock, leaving not so much as a shadow in the blinding white room. My dark blue suit is the only color he’s seen since being deposited here.
It takes a moment or two for him to pull himself together enough to answer me. I wait silently, content to witness his misery. “Please, I want to go home.” He lowers his head, and a clump of greasy dark hair falls over his forehead. His shoulders shake and begin to heave in silent sobs. “I just want to go home.” Pathetic. But the sight and sound of it makes my blood sing. This is what happens to men who terrorize young women while trying to get to me. He thought it would be so easy, I bet. As if I’ve gotten this far by being careless.
“I’ll let you go home, David.” My training comes back to me in an instant, the memories flooding my brain before I’ve bothered trying to reach for them. My voice is soft and gentle. Almost tender. Like we’re in this together, and all I want to do is help. “That’s all anybody wants. For you to go home.”
“Then let me go!” he bawls, covering his face with shaking hands.
