Page 28 of Psyop Kings

Gareth’s amusement is completely gone now. Something akin to pity mars his stupidly handsome features. “That bump to the head really did a number on you.”

I narrow my eyes at him. My head is throbbing fiercely, but it’s not from a bump. It’s from being drugged, kidnapped, drugged, starved, drugged.

“I want to leave,” I tell him, crossing my arms over my chest and taking a step back. Being so close to the man who towers over me by several inches and outweighs me by at least a hundred and fifty pounds is intimidating. “Now.”

He smirks at the last bit. “So sassy. You always do get kind of mean when hangry.”

Is he insane?

I don’t know this man and he certainly doesn’t know me.

Yet he’s interacting with me like we have a friendly past.

If my mouth weren’t so dry, I’d spit on him again.

“Come on,” he says after a beat. “Let’s get some breakfast in you. You missed lunch and dinner yesterday. Doc says it’s a nasty concussion.”

He waits as though to watch my reaction. I study his navy-colored eyes, searching for answers that lurk inside his head. His half smirk that would probably melt the panties off the entire female freshman class at USC only serves to shine light on his deception.

This is an act.

A lie.

Some stupid game to make me feel crazy.

“I’d like to see the doctor again,” I tell him curtly. “Before breakfast if possible.”

“He’ll be in later,” he assures me, offering his hand for me to take. “You need to eat first anyway.”

I scowl at his large hand that could probably knock me right through the drywall if I got out of line. There’s no way in hell I’ll willingly touch this man.

He chuckles, shaking his head. “Like I said. Loyal.”

I’m not sure who he thinks I’m being loyal to, and I refuse to ask. It’s apparent by the twinkling in his eyes he wants me to.

They’re used to being masters of the games they play.

They’ve never played with me, though.

His sigh is somewhat playful, but I don’t let my guard down. I glance over my shoulder and quickly count eight doors on each side of the hallway, plus the one at the end that stands open. The one Gareth came out of was the ninth one on the right. It doesn’t help to orient myself, but it’s something.

He starts walking, putting his back to me. I take a moment to peek into the room he exited from. It appears to be a lounge or something with leather chairs and wood-paneled walls. The cigar smoke scent comes off strong from that room. Since I don’tsee any windows to escape out of, I begin following him. I count eleven more doors on each side before we come to the end.

The hallway turns to the right.

He disappears around the corner, and I’m left staring at the door on the far end opposite mine. So many doors. I wonder if they’re all locked. What’s on the other side of them? Is Megan in one of them?

I try the knob, but it’s locked. Of course it is. With a small groan, I turn down the hallway Gareth went down. We pass ten more doors on each side before coming to a small opening. A thrill of hope rushes through me as I see a bank of elevators.

He mashes the button to call the elevator.

I survey the lobby area, looking for other means of escape. No stairwell. Just two sets of elevator doors with a metal trashcan against the wall dividing them. There isn’t any signage to indicate where exactly I’m at. One thing’s for sure, I’m in a hotel. I’ve never seen a house or any apartment building that looks like this before.

Ding.

The elevator on the left opens and Gareth steps inside, assuming I’ll follow him. I’m tempted to take off running, but something tells me this linebacker of a man will easily tackle me.

Lifting my chin, I follow him into the elevator. Despite feeling like I’m in an old hotel, everything has been modernized. It even smells of fresh paint. Where you’d expect to see tarnished brass, it’s nice, shiny steel.

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