Page 23 of Capture
“I did. I do, but please, Betty, do you have a spare key to unlock me out? I’m terrified that Mr. Kaiser will come back. Please, Betty,pleasehelp me,” my voice cracked under the pressure as the hot tears dribbled down my cheeks.
“Oh god, are you okay? Why on earth would they trap you in here? What did you do?” she pressed, annoying me.
“Yes.” Why was she still here? Why didn’t she do something? “Is there a spare key?” I asked again in case she didn’t hear me the first time.
“Is there anything you need?” she enquired, and again I was baffled by her relaxed nature, as one of her staff was locked in a room for days.
“Yes, to get out of here. Please, Betty. He could come back at any time,” I stated firmly, so she’d get the message that she had to hurry.
“Who? Do you mean Mr. Kaiser?” she questioned, and I found myself wanting to bang my head against the wall because I was certain I had already said that.
“Yes. Please, Betty, help me,” I sobbed as I slapped my palm against the wood of the door.
“Okay. I’ll go look for a spare key,” she said. Then I heard her confident footsteps, high heels pounding the floorboards, growing distant, then trotting down the stairs.
Everything felt wrong about her behavior. She was usually a bold, assertive woman, wielding authority that the Kaisers respected. But she seemed indecisive, dithering, and unconcerned about my situation, and wasted time asking questions instead of taking action. Perhaps it was my projection, as I was so desperate for her to take action and get me out before my enemies returned.
Silence fell again.
My heartbeat pounded in my head as my jaw ached from clenching so much due to stress and panic. I felt that I had done the wrong thing by asking Betty for help. I should’ve kept my mouth shut.
I retreated to my bed and started packing my bag, giving Betty the benefit of the doubt. There was no way the Kaisers would have told her that I suspected she was the one who organized the rats. Or maybe they did. Perhaps I had that wrong. The worst scenarios kept playing in my mind as time dragged on, and the silence was torture.
What if the Kaisers were working with Betty? What if this whole thing, including the rats, was a setup to expose me and the Larsson police? I didn’t see a rat, and the kitchen staff never mentioned them. The club was closed for a night, and we were asked to stay home, but what if that was part of the plan to distract me?
Time was dragging on. I imagined in my mind, Betty striding down the stairs, through the private lounges, out onto the club floor, across the bar and dining area, weaving through the casino tables, then into the hallway passing the kitchen to her offices. If she walked quickly, it would take ten minutes each way, so twenty minutes all up.
But what if a staff member stopped her? What if she couldn’t find a spare key? What if she called the police instead, or worse, called the people she worked for, and I wasn’t meaning the Kaisers. The other people. The man she referred to as Vladimir, the boss or leader, was the one I heard speaking in the locker room.
I sat on the edge of the bed with my bag over my shoulder, ready to leave. With every slight sound, I leapt up and pressed my ear against the wood, hoping help was on its way, only to be disappointed when it wasn’t.
An hour or so passed, and my mind invented more scenarios on what happened to Betty. Alien abduction? Fell over on her heels, sprained her ankle, and was taken to the ER. Broken faucet in the kitchen, causing a flood, and I was put to the back of her mind?
The distant sounds of high heels ascending the stairs, and I propelled to my feet, but the heels didn’t sound the same as Betty’s, so I wondered if she sent someone to let me out. Then I picked up on another set of footsteps that followed the high heels, heavy and slow, probably a man’s.
Their footsteps quietened, and a door was shut, and I knew they had gone inside one of the rooms. Not Betty, then. I retreated to the bed and sat on the edge, waiting for more footsteps, hoping the couple down the hall would be quiet. Tortured by sex noises was the last thing I needed right now.
Without a clock in here, I had no sense of time, but it felt like thirty minutes, but it might be less, before the couple down the hall left their room. I wondered how much she charged for thirty minutes. They were quiet, didn’t hear a peep out of them, so I wonder if he got a refund if he couldn’t get it up. It seemed quick.
I propelled to my feet, tempted to bang on the door to grab their attention, but halted when I heard another set of footsteps. This time they were slow and heavy, and I stepped back from the door as they came closer. Then stopped right outside my door.
Again, I raised my hand to bang on the wood to grab their attention, but lowered my hand when a key slid into the keyhole and the lock clicked.
My feet shuffled backward as my breath hitched in my chest, heart slammed against my ribcage, as the doorknob turned and the door flew open. Sharp, severe eyes glared at me, ruthless and lethal, and I stepped back again, slamming against the bed and falling backward onto the mattress.
He shut the door behind him as those cruel eyes raked over my body, Adam’s apple bobbled in his throat, top lip curled slightly as his cologne draped over me, killing me softly.
His hands fall to his belt as he begins to slowly unbuckle it, pull it from his pants, and let it fall to the floor. Then those fingers unbuttoned his pants and pulled down the zipper.
“Take off your jeans,’ he demanded, flicking his finger at me. There was no asking or suggesting; it was an order.
“What?” Heated desires flooded my body, triggering my nerves and confusion. His smothering intensity burned all over me, and my body fell backward onto the bed without him even touching me.
“Now,” he asserted, nostrils flared, lips moistened as my hands gravitated to the fly of my jeans.
11
Icouldn’t get her off my mind. A seed was planted in my brain that rapidly grew into a twisting, encompassing vine that invaded every space inside my head. Everywhere I looked, I saw her. Her scent infiltrated my senses, and it didn’t matter where I went or what I did; I could smell her perfume. A sweet residue was left on my shirt, pants, hair, and skin, poisoning my mind and weakening my self-control.
