* * *
I have no idea how much time has passed, but the same blond-haired man that’d brought me breakfast, had also brought me lunch a few hours earlier. As the hours pass by, I’m left to pace the room as I wait.
At first, the mysterious arrangements had caused a heaviness to settle in the pit of stomach, but as mid-afternoon turned to late, that heaviness had faded to anxiety. All the scenarios I keep imagining have me on edge, and the wait has turned to torture. I just want to meet my fate and be done with it.
I’m sitting in the chair next to the windows when the door opens. It’s the blond man, and I rise to my feet—my expression tense.
He’s still wearing the dark suit from earlier, and though he’s not smiling, his expression is more approachable than the other man that’d been guarding the door. His brown eyes meet mine. “We will be leaving now,” he tells me.
I sign, Where?
“We will talk when we get there.”
I frown, but he looks at me expectantly, motioning that I can now cross the threshold of the room’s doorway. When I exit the room, the guard from earlier is nowhere in sight. The man who’d retrieved me walks beside me, his warm hand on the small of my back. It’s not out of politeness. He wants to control where I go.
I catch a glimpse of a large, spacious room with a vaulted ceiling and floor-to-ceiling glass window panes that run the entire length of one wall. A modern chandelier hangs from the ceiling, and located below it is a circular, black sectional that looks like it’s made of leather. Before I can look around further or take in the scenic view outside the windows, the man applies firm pressure against my back, leading me down another hall.
I gaze around at the nondescript gray walls and gleaming black tiles. A set of double doors are at the end, and the man reaches around me and opens the door on the right, ushering me into a small foyer. Again, the walls are gray and the tiles black. Glossy, black elevator doors slide open for us, and before I’m steered inside, I spy a door in the corner of the foyer labeled Emergency Exit.
The doors slide closed, and I turn my attention on the man. He’s standing beside the doors, his expression unreadable. It’s difficult keeping my hands at my sides instead of signing everything I want to ask. American Sign Language is said to be the fourth most-used language in the US, but ever since I’d been cast out of the system upon turning eighteen, I haven’t run across anyone fluent in ASL. It’s frustrating not being able to communicate with others.
When the doors open once more, I’m led into a small, underground garage. The man urges me towards a black SUV, and I immediately balk. I’ve been telling myself that they’re not going to kill me, but there’s no guarantee that they haven’t changed their minds.
The man lightly taps my shoulder, and I look up at him with surprise. I’d expected him to shove me into the vehicle regardless of my reluctance, but instead, he gazes down at me. “You will not be harmed. You have my word,” he says, his lips moving clearly so that I can read them.
I search his expression, and he patiently holds my gaze for a long minute. He could be lying, but why go to these lengths to ease my discomfort if he’s just going to kill me anyway? Tossing me into the SUV would have been easier than trying to calm my fear.
I nod to let him know that I understand. This time, I turn and duck my head, climbing into the expensive vehicle. It smells of leather and a hint of men’s cologne. There’s a man in the driver’s seat, and he continues facing forward instead of looking my way. After the blond man closes the side door, he moves to the passenger door and opens it, climbing in.
They’re leaving me alone in the back? That’s a good sign. Plus, my wrists aren’t bound. So far, so good. I reach for the seatbelt and secure it across my lap. Then, I watch avidly as the driver guides the SUV to a private garage door, and then we’re driving through a secondary parking garage.
Seconds later, we’re pulling out onto a congested street filled with taxis and buses. As we slow behind the long line of vehicles stopped at an intersection, I crane my head to peer up at the building we’d just left. It’s so tall that my eyes squint against the sunlight reflecting off all the glass windows. It’s a modern high-rise that looks to be a classy hotel.
As the SUV inches forward, I turn my attention back to my situation. I’m half-tempted to open the door next to me and fling myself out into the street. I glance at the men in the front, and neither of them are watching me. The doors are likely locked since they don’t seem concerned that I might escape. I have no choice but to wait and see where they’re taking me.
As we make our way through the crowded streets, I watch out the window beside me. I think we’re in Manhattan. When we pass through Times Square a brief time later, I gaze with fascination at all the flashing billboards that seem so much bigger in person. I feel unimaginably small surrounded by so many skyscrapers. When it dawns on me that I’m acting like a tourist instead of the victim of a kidnapping, I frown and yank my eyes from the sights to glance at the men in the front seats. Neither are speaking, or if they were, they’re not now.
Five minutes later, the SUV slows and pulls alongside a curb. My heart pounds in my chest when I realize we’ve reached our destination. I unbuckle my seatbelt and slide across the seat to the other side of the car and peer out the window. We’ve stopped in front of an old, mid-rise apartment building that looks to be about fifteen stories.
My door opens, and I waste no time scrambling out of the vehicle. I take in the busy sidewalk full of pedestrians and the many storefronts located up and down the street. I could scream, and this ordeal will come to a very abrupt end.
The blond man’s face appears before me, and his eyes hold mine. When his lips move, I lower my gaze to read them. “Fifteen minutes, and then you’ll be on your own, free to do as you please. Do you understand?”
I look at him with puzzlement. What does he mean I’ll be on my own?
His lips move again. “Don’t mess this up. This is all for your benefit, not mine.”
My benefit?
He touches my waist, urging me towards the canopied entrance of the building. I’m still bewildered by his comment as he steers me beneath the canopy, and a doorman holds one of the glass doors open for us. The man beside me politely nods at him as we pass by.
My captor’s lips begin to move, and I try to watch what he’s saying. I think I catch my name, but then we’re walking away before I can figure out the rest.
The lobby boasts a few luxury sofas near an elaborate fireplace, but I don’t get the chance to examine the lobby further, because we’re approaching an elevator. We’re the only ones going up, and we step inside. I watch as the eleventh-floor button is pressed.
Okay, so I’m not going to lose my life since there are too many witness. So what gives? Why am I here? When the elevator doors slide open, I’m escorted down the hall to the last door on the left. It’s a nice, sturdy door with elegant gold numbers declaring it as unit thirty-nine.
I watch as the man pulls out a set of keys and unlocks the door. He pushes it open and motions for me to enter the apartment. Suspicion flares, and I look at him warily before stepping inside, bracing for whatever comes next.
I blink with confusion.
The apartment is completely unfurnished, and no one else appears to be around. I scan the large room, not quite sure what to do now. The floor is beautiful hardwood, and two tall windows allow the late afternoon sunlight to filter in, brightening the white walls. Pale blue, floor-length curtains frame the windows.
A French door across the room draws my attention, and it likely leads to the rest of the apartment. I turn and look at the man questioningly. I don’t understand why we’re here.
He holds out the key ring with the two attached keys dangling from it. “This is your apartment,” he explains.
Instead of accepting the keys, I gape at him. Had we entered the Twilight Zone when I wasn’t paying attention?
When I don’t make a move to accept the keys, he pulls out an envelope and cellphone from the inner pocket of his suit jacket. After he’s certain he has my attention, he says, “The apartment has been leased for a full year, the phone is yours, and there’s money in the envelope. You’ll receive a monthly allowance the first of every month.”
My lips part, and I lift my hands to decline everything, but then I smartly drop them back to my sides. He’d said that he only wanted fifteen minutes of my time, and then he was leaving. Right now, it doesn’t matter what he’s claiming. Once he leaves I’ll sort out this crazy mess.
He holds out the keys, envelope, and phone.
I carefully accept them and search his gaze to see if this is some sort of joke. If it is, it’s a sick one.
His lips almost curve up into a smile. “Everything you need is here. If you have any problems, just request Greg down in the lobby.” He pulls out a second phone and looks at me expectantly. “I just need a photo before I leave, and then you can familiarize yourself with the layout of the apartment and the surrounding area. There are plenty of stores within walking distance.”
I take an automatic step back. Photo? He wants a photo? What kind of photo?
“It’s for your new ID. It’ll be delivered tomorrow,” he explains, noting my unease.
I’m beyond lost, and I gaze at him as if he’s sprouted horns.
He motions me towards the white wall, holding up his phone. “Just a quick picture,” he claims.
One photo and he’s leaving, I remind myself. I can handle a simple photo. It’s not like he’s asking me to take off my clothes. I walk to the wall and stand in front of it. He holds up the phone and arches an eyebrow, evidently waiting for me to smile.
I tilt my lips sarcastically. I mean really, last night I’d been kidnapped and had a gun held to my head. Now I’m having a photo taken for a new ID?
He takes the photo, studies it, and nods. “I’ll be on my way. Enjoy your good fortune.” With that said, he turns and strides to the door, leaving without a backward glance.
The second the door closes, I rush over and quickly slide the deadbolt into place and secure the chain lock. He’s gone. He’d actually left. A part of me hadn’t believed that he would honor his word.
I turn and look around the room with bewilderment. This is real. The bearded man leased an apartment for me. Why? Extravagant things are never given freely without the expectation of something in return. A new thought creeps up on me, and I stiffen. Does he think I can be coerced into some sort of…prostitution?
Oh, hell no.
The first thing I need to do is see if I’m alone. I move away from the door and cross the empty room before approaching the single French door. I’m still holding the keys, manila envelope, and the black phone.
The French door leads me into a clean, blindingly white kitchen. Cream tiles gleam, and the only color in the room comes from the stainless-steel appliances. The atmosphere is impersonal and stark, and I wrinkle my nose with distaste.
A hallway draws my attention, and I hesitantly follow it, peeking into a small laundry room on the left. When I glance into the room on the right, I see a bathroom. Again, everything is white. There’s a toilet against the far wall beneath a window, and to the right, is a white cabinet with a sink. A mirror is attached to the wall above it. To the left is an enclosed shower with a frosted glass door.
The last two doors at the end of the hall are bedrooms. The one on the left is completely empty while the other boasts a readymade bed. I find myself gazing at it apprehensively. It’s queen-size and has a tall, silver-toned headboard that is feminine but simplistic. The sheets look soft and welcoming, and I quickly back into the hallway.
After drawing in a sharp breath, I return to the main room and check to verify the chain is still in place on the door. It is. I could leave…
No, not yet. What if he’s watching to see if I stay? I’ll wait until it’s dark and find a shelter or something for the night. Until then, I have no choice but to wait.
I lower myself to the floor, setting the phone and keys down as I lean my back against the nearest wall. I’ve always yearned for a phone so that I could communicate by text with others, but I’ve never been able to afford one. It was difficult enough just getting through high school, I could have never handled a part-time job—not with as often as I was moved around.
Out of curiosity, I open the envelope, and my mouth falls open. There are hundreds of bills in it. I count hundred-dollar bills, fifties, and twenties. There must be at least three or four grand in the envelope. I drop it as if its burned me and quickly rise to my feet, hurrying to the nearest window to peer outside. The window doesn’t face the front of the building.
This is really happening. The bearded man has secured me an apartment and has every intention of giving me a monthly allowance. Things like this don’t happen in real life. It just doesn’t. I swallow as my gaze slides back to the envelope on the floor.
He’s expecting something in return, but I have no intention of finding out if I’ve become a victim of human trafficking. Someone else in my shoes might be willing to sell their soul to the devil, but I’m not. I will find my way on my own, and on my terms.
My heart sinks.
I’m also worse off than before. I’d lost my backpack and my ID, and I don’t have extra clothing. I glance down at my current state, making a face. What I’m wearing is definitely not street material, but I don’t dare take a penny of that money to buy something sensible.
If I leave everything untouched, I don’t owe him a thing.