Page 83 of Mayhem and Minnie

As he sways on his feet, I grab him, pulling him toward me and wrapping my arms around his neck. I apply just enough force to knock him out before I quietly deposit him in my car.

That was rather easy.

There’s one issue, though. The girl in his car.

I debate what to do for a few moments before I cave in and call Giles.

“There’s a drugged girl at…” I pause to look at the name of the pub and the address on the GPS. “The car is a black SUV with the plate numbers ending in seven-three-nine. Make sure she gets home safe.”

A pause.

“Do I want to know how she ended up there?” he asks in his usual bored voice.

“No. But I’m taking care of the owner of that car.”

He chuckles.

“Fair enough. I’m on my way.”

Hanging up, I stick around until Giles is a few minutes away and leave. I can’t have my new prisoner wake up before he ends up in his prison, now, can I?

As I drive back home, I access the camera feed from the house to see where Minnie is. Luckily, she took my advice and stopped working. She’s now lounging around in her room.

Did I install another camera in her room? Yes, I did. And I’m not sorry about it.

After the incident with the faulty footage, I’ve been more wary of her. And what’s the best way to get a read on her if not by seeing what she does in the intimacy of her room?

Creepy? Maybe. But at least I’m not as creepy as mister gelled hair in the back, who’s no doubt stinking my upholstery with his cheap perfume.

I shake my head in disgust. I suppose tomorrow I’ll need to take the car out for a wash.

Minnie struts up and down her room as she tries on the clothes we bought for her last week.

It takes me a few moments to realize she’s pretending to be on a catwalk, walking like a model.

I chuckle.

She’s cute. Too cute. Disturbingly cute.

Fuck. Maybe mister gelled hair was right. I do have a problem. And it’s one I have yet to find a solution for.

Instead of paying attention to the road like a responsible driver, my eyes are on Minnie and her antics.

It’s even worse when she takes some clothes off to put on the others because though she’s not fully naked, she’s naked enough for me to feel my clothes becoming too constricting.

Goddamn. I’ve become a pervert.

If she only knew what I’ve been doing lately instead of sleeping…

Gelly Paul moans in the back. I sigh. Ten more minutes until I get home.

Pulling over, I lean back and give him another blow to the head to ensure he stays put—and quiet—until we reach my basement.

After he goes back to sleep, I continue driving until I get home.

I park the car as usual, and holding my phone with the camera feed in one hand and dragging Paul with the other, I use my hidden entrance to go to the basement.

The first room is the decoy—of sorts. There’s a functional fireplace—cough, furnace, cough—and a wine cellar.

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