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In the end, Mr.Meyer wasn’t only a widower. He’d lost his home and his business, drained his bank accounts, and gone into deep debt.Whether or not his wife deserved justice for her untimely death would never be known. She’d been placed under six feet of dirt, and Mr.Sinclair had walked free, making a statement to the media waiting outside the courtroom that he was grateful to the jury who had seen the truth and that he wished Mr.Meyer well.
How that moment must have burned.
Of course, the Collector knew very well that it had.
A smaller screen within a screen blinked to life. As the viewer, he could decide which picture to enlarge. On the smaller screen, Noelle had entered a room upstairs and was sitting on a bed, waiting. Her hands twisted in her lap. Whoever had rented her had not yet arrived.
I’m a virgin.
Not for long.
The Collector focused back on Evan, who now sat back slowly, bringing his legs up and resting his forearms on his knees. He let his head fall back against the bars and sat staring straight ahead, one eye open wide, the other barely cracked. The Collector watched him for a moment before bringing his gaze to the various odds at the top of the screen once more.
They were constantly changing, based on shifting circumstances.
Just like life, he supposed.
You had to be quick to keep up, or others moved ahead.
There was one bet that remained constant for each of them, however.Escape.Highly unlikely. There were betting rules that made such a thing virtually impossible. No, if Dodger or Midori got free, it would be because they themselves had come up with something that the creators hadn’t thought of. And then whoever had put money on that outcome would be a very, very rich man. Or woman. Though he didn’t think there were any of those. Some sports were meant solely for men. The Collector didn’t need, or want, the money. He had enough of that. And it wasn’t what drove him. But still ... his gaze kept returning to those odds, the number causing something hot to simmer in him.
He knew why, of course. He was not a stupid man. His finger hovered over the keyboard momentarily before directing the cursor away from that bet. He’d decide later if it was one worth making. Or if it was foolhardy. Could he figure out a way tohelpthem get free? The idea intrigued him beyond ... everything. Was it possible? Maybe. It wasn’t going to be easy, though. He’d need a strategy. On several levels.
The boy sat motionless in his cage, staring straight ahead. “What are you thinking?” the Collector whispered, his gaze hanging on the boy’s bruised cheek. The Collector glanced at the rope they’d discarded near the back of Noelle’s empty cage. Interesting that neither of them had considered using it to hang themselves. Of course, only one could do that. It couldn’t be shared. He wondered if suicide had been the intent of the sender. A kindness, maybe.Interesting.Neither Evan nor Noelle had even mentioned the possibility, though. It hadn’t occurred to them. At least not yet. Which meant they still had fight left.
On the small screen, a man had entered the room where Noelle sat. He was old and at least twice her weight, if not three times. The Collector zoomed in, focusing on her face. Her expression was blank, but hatred burned in her eyes.
Good. Hold on to it. It will help you survive this. Anger sharpens the mind. Fear clouds it.
He clicked off that screen. He wasn’t interested in watching an old man grunt and rut as he tore into a young virgin. Many were, though. He could practically feel the excitement of all those faceless strangers emanating through the monitor.
Yes, perhaps he’d assist them in getting free after all. If he could. In the meantime, however, if they were going to stay alive, they’d need to eat more than bread and water.
He assumed the man who’d rented Noelle had sent the treats of peaches and butter earlier. A preemptive thank-you for whatever entertainment they were about to offer.
How generous.
Perhaps he was also hoping the peach juice would still be on Noelle’s skin, making her that much sweeter.
The Collector clicked on a series of keys, spending what would equate to someone else’s mortgage payment to order them each something special.
And this time, the gift came without strings. For now anyway.
CHAPTER SIX
The door slid open with a soft thud. Evan startled, moving toward the side of his cage closest to Noelle’s. The same man, dressed all in black and wearing red shoes, who had taken Noelle out of this room now accompanied her back in. Evan’s eyes were glued to her as she was walked to her cage and roughly pushed inside. The man locked the door and left without a word.
His breath emerged in a gusty tremor. He’d sat there alone for what felt like a hundred years, wondering if they’d bring her back at all. She’d beenrented, and though he was pretty sure he could figure out what that meant, he couldn’t be positive.
I’m a virgin,she’d said, telling him her assumption about what was about to happen to her was the same as his.
He’d sat there, stretching his fingers wide and then curling them into a fist, wondering what she’d paid for the fact that he currently possessed each one of them. He wouldn’t disrespect her with a thank-you. God, she’d hate him even more if he did.
Noelle slumped down on the opposite side of her container, facing him. Her expression had been blank when she reentered the room, but now it crumpled into a grimace.
He didn’t know what to say.Are you okay?hung on his lips, but he could see she was not. “What did they do to you, Noelle?” he askedsoftly. He had to know. They were in this together now, whether they liked it or not.
Her eyes opened, jarring him. The pain he saw there was raw. Palpable. “He ... some man, whoever he was ... raped me. He wore a mask. I couldn’t see his face.”
