Page 89 of Miki

“Do you know how much trouble you’ve caused me with your investigation, you little bitch?” he spat out, spittle hitting me on the face with each word.

“You just had to stick your nose in where it wasn’t wanted, didn’t you?” he cried.

Pain burst through me, and my head jerked to the side as he slapped me hard across the face. The room spun.

“Well, you’ll get yours soon enough!” he told me ominously before he stalked out of the room and closed the door. I didn’t like the sound of that. Not at all!

Now that I could see, I glanced around, trying to get my bearings.

I was in an old building which looked like a warehouse. The room was quite large and there were some old filing cabinets in one corner beside an old wooden desk that looked well used. The walls were probably white at one time, but had yellowed with age, and the carpet tiles on the floor looked worn and stained.

It might have been used as an office once, but that definitely wasn’t the purpose of this room now. I gulped as fear gripped me.

The bed I was chained to was an old double bed with a metal frame, and the chains restraining me look well-used, but unfortunately still solid. The mattress was thin and lumpy and had definitely seen better days.

There were several tripods with cameras attached set up in the room, all facing the bed. I didn’t want to think about what this room was likely used for, but considering my colleagues were working with a gang involved in human trafficking, it was hard not to.

Now that my faculties were returning to normal, I tested my restraints again.

It was useless.

No matter how hard I tugged, they didn’t loosen and, with every pull at them, I felt my strength ebbing further. I wouldn’t be getting out of these chains easily, that was for sure. Or at least not by my own volition.

With nothing else to do and trying desperately to keep a hold of my growing panic, I kept tugging on them, anyway.

I knew I should conserve my energy, but every time I stopped my futile attempts at getting loose, my mind started racing, flooding me with every worst-case scenario it could come up with.

It seemed stupid for Martin to have kidnapped me. I mean, why would he bother? He could have got revenge simply by killing me.

Martin had always flirted with me, but I never truly believed he was that interested in me, and certainly not obsessed with having me enough to bother kidnapping me so he could rape me.

There seemed more to be more to this than I knew.

Perhaps he was planning to hand me over to the Thomas gang? They couldn’t be happy that a cop on their payroll was now being investigated for attempted murder. Did Martin somehow think that handing me over to them would in some way compensate for that?

Of course, that scenario was no better for me. They would not bother trying to traffic a trained police officer. They wouldn’t want that sort of trouble. So, whether I remained with Martin or was passed on to someone else, there seemed to be only one outcome for me.

Unless I could escape.

Tears threatened, but I refused to let them fall. I would not give in to the despair I could feel rising deep within.

Blinking hard, I sniffed loudly and pulled air in through my mouth until I was a little calmer. Then I gave myself a pep talk.

I would get out of here. So, what if I couldn’t get out of my restraints by force? I was smart; I would find another way.

Martin was interested in me. Or at least his body was. That was obvious, so I would use that to my advantage.

I’ll get out of this, somehow, whatever it takes! I vowed.

It was time to stop wasting energy I would need later and take back some control over the situation, however small. I stilled and concentrated on my breathing, counting slowly with each inhale and exhale, willing my body to relax and rest.

After a while, I must have dozed off because I woke as Martin entered the room, just in time to see him putting a phone away in his back pocket. I watched quietly as he walked over to the desk and put a bag on it, before removing a bottle of water and walking towards me.

“Lucky for you, the boss wants you alive and well, for now,” he told me before unscrewing the bottle.

Fisting my hair, he lifted my head and poured water too quickly down my throat.

Coughing and spluttering, I wrenched my head away.

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