Page 12 of Capture
The mattress sank as he sat down next to me, and a warm hand found my back and started rubbing. “Are you having a panic attack, Annika?” he asked softly.
“I…thin…” Words refused to leave my mouth, so I resigned to nodding again.
His strong, muscular arms wrapped around my trembling body and began to rock me while rubbing my back. The warm caress from his embrace was like a warm spa on a cold day, and the circus of anxiety began to ease.
“I’m not sure if I’m doing the right thing here,” he confessed quietly as his warm breath tickled my eyelashes.
It took me a couple of minutes before answering as I didn’t want to use up invaluable breath, but once the tidal wave of anxiety died away, I answered, “Which part are you unsure about? The treating my anxiety part or the keeping me here against my will part?”
He paused for a couple of seconds before reluctantly pulling away and rising to his feet, standing over me. Perhaps I imagined it, but I could feel the guilt peel off him—the stubborn loyalist. The hardworking right-hand man to Mikaelwas struggling with his morality—the girl he wanted vs. the man he protected.
Or maybe he didn’t want me anymore. Perhaps I crossed a line that he could never forgive me for.
As he walked to the door, done with me, unable to tolerate being in the same room as a woman who betrayed him. “I’ll be just outside the door if you need me,” he told me, avoiding my eye.
“Okay,” I cleared my throat. “You don’t want to stay in here where it’s warm?”
He exhaled as his head nodded slightly, then answered assertively, “No.” My heart panged in my chest at his rejection, but it was probably for the better. “Oh, and,” he exhaled again as if struggling to deal with the problem, which was me. “Do you need anything? Food, water…”
“My phone? Can I have my phone?” I was pushing it as I knew what the answer would be, but if you don’t ask, then you’ll never know.
His eyes narrowed, and his shoulders tensed a little, showing his impatience with my question. “I think you know the answer, but good try. You have everything you need. A bed, bathroom, and food will be brought in soon. As I said, I’ll be right outside if you need anything.”
“Your turn to take a shift, is it?” I didn’t want him to leave because I felt lonely in this windowless room, and if they were going to kill me, then please don’t let me die alone.
“Yes,” he replied, putting up that wall when he was back to business, and of course, I was nothing but business for them.
“Thank you for helping me with the panic attack,” I called after him just before he closed the door on me and left alone in the room once again.
6
Can I have a word?” I asked the head bartender, who gave us the tip on the drug-taking dance girls, and who was selling them the drugs. I took this to mean that she was loyal to us, but one had to be careful regardless. And it’s she who had to be cautious of us, not the other way around. Whoever betrayed us must be siphoned out and eliminated.
The color ran from her cheeks as confusion washed behind her eyes as if she thought she was in trouble, but didn’t know what for. She will be in trouble if she lies to me, though, so she had better think before she speaks.
I wiggled my finger to lure her close to me, and she leaned over the bar, swallowing nervously as her eyes were the size of saucers. “Is everything okay?”
I cast my eye around the empty showroom and bar to see if anyone was watching us. A cleaner had her head down vacuuming, and a younger bartender was shining glasses with a cloth. Betty, who Annika believed was the one speaking about the rats dumped in the club, even though she wasn’t entirely sure.
She had her dark blond hair pulled back into a ponytail with tidy bangs, clean makeup, and a starched, perfectly ironed uniform. She set a good standard and work ethic for newer and younger staff.
“What I’m about to say to you must be kept between you and me,” I stated sternly.
“Sure,” she nodded nervously, then swallowed as her eyes darted about the ample empty space. “Has something happened?”
“Well, you’d be aware of the rat dump, an attack by an enemy, to have this place shut down by Health Inspectors.”
“Dumped? It was deliberate?” she asked warily, and I paused to consider whether I should continue pursuing my line of questioning. Maybe she doesn’t know anything. She was the type of staffer who turned up early, put her head down, and worked diligently without complaint. She added, “I heard about the rats, but I wasn’t aware that it was a deliberate hit. By who? Our competitors?”
“Ah. So you don’t know anything,” I groaned as my heart sank.
Confusion washed across her face, then a glint of something in her eyes. “There were rumors. I didn’t take them seriously,” she shrugged her shoulders.
“Like what?” I pressed firmly.
She bowed her head and glanced under her eyelashes over my shoulder as if seeking out someone in particular. I slowly turned my head around, so it didn’t seem obvious what I was doing. It was Betty that I saw, striding toward us, impeccably dressed, scarlet lipstick, long black ponytail swinging behind her. I glanced back at the bartender, who dropped her eyes.
“Her?” I pointed my thumb behind me. “Betty?”
