Page 5 of Trapped In Wonderland

“I’m taking her out of here,” Raul growls and turns to head to the door, but suddenly the door slams shut.

“The fuck?” I run to it and jerk on the round handle, but it doesn’t budge.

“What the hell is happening?” Raul asks, looking more baffled now.

“Someone locked us in.” I bang on the door and call out, “Oracle!”

But the door is too thick for anyone to hear me.

“Step aside,” Raul orders.

He poises to force the handle.

“It won’t work,” I tell him. “The door is ten-inch thick, and like the other private rooms in this club, it has a digital ‘smart’ lock. I bet Fox has overridden them, including this one.”

“You’re a tech-head. Can’t you take them back from the Fox?”

“I’m working on it,” I grumble. Most people think just because I’m in cyber-security, I can just hack everything with a few strokes of the keys on my computer and everything will be fixed. It takes time and finesse. “Besides, Fox’s demands have a stipulation—if we mess around with the cameras and locks or try to evacuate the club, they’ll identify Wonderland’s clients and flood the internet with people who don’t want their naked activities to be broadcasted to the world.”

“That’s an empty threat if it’s fast money they want,” Raul says, but his tone is uncertain.

“Do you want to risk it?” I ask.

Raul’s hands ball into fists. He jerks away and stalks further into the room, maybe looking for something he could lay his frustration on. I feel him. I’m irate myself. We’re now trapped in a fucking basement with no way out without risking Núria’s video leaked into the world.

Crap. My plan better work.

4

Toro

Fuck!

This trip has gone from bad to worse in the most spectacular fashion. I knew from the start there were risks, but who would’ve guessed some deranged individuals would go out of their way to attackthisclub?

Sure, anything cloaked in secrecy would always garner nosy people’s interest. I’d imagine many, if not all, members of Club Wonderland have important and influential jobs—and knowing who the owner is, I bet even dangerous. So, who is stupid enough to target this particular establishment?

Now we’re trapped. ¡Mierda!

I pace the middle length of the room, trying to release the anger coursing through my blood. As a soldier for my country and now in private security, I’ve been in conflicts enough to know nothing can be resolved without a level head.

Looking around, I wonder why the place is called the Chamber of Curiosities. Except for the high-tech door and the lights, the room feels more like an underground prison than anything thatwill invoke my curiosity. Red exposed bricks surround us. On the wall ahead of me, stands a St. Andrew’s Cross, inspired by his crucifixion, a wooden X with shackles attached at the end of each arm.

I know in the Club Wonderland context; consenting adults use it to fulfill a bondage kink, but all I see is its use for pure torture. Quickly turning away, I run face first, smack into something. Startled, I look up and find different loops, chains, and leather straps hanging from the ceiling.

“Watch where you’re stepping in here,” Kitty warns a bit too late. “I think this is where they store their vintageitems.”

The term items is a mild way to describe them. The collection of medieval kinky devices here is impressive, though I can’t say I know what most of them are used for. But just from the look of them, I know I’m not into them.

An image of bloody wrists and ankles flashes through my mind. I shudder, but quickly shake off the memory and try to ignore my surrounding. I focus on Kitty instead.

When I saw her a few minutes ago, my brain couldn’t put together the vision before me with the memory of Kate I have in my mind. Though her voice should’ve alerted me, my eyes can’t believe this was the same Kate I knew.

She’s tall for a woman, probably close to six feet. But here, standing in four-inch stiletto heels, she’s almost eye to eye with me. A leather coat covers most of her curves, but her long, toned legs ending at delectable curvy hips are visible through the high slits on the side. This is a woman with a highly trained body, not quite like the lanky Kate Bishop I remember.

The years have transformed the cute computer nerd into a femme fatale.

When I drag my gaze to hers, she asks, “You’re ready to talk now?”

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