CHAPTER TWELVE
ECHOING BOOMS WOKE me up. My eyes flitted across the dark basement to one of the small, rectangular windows. It was too dark to actually see it, but I knew the general location. Another boom rattled the house. Thunder. The loud noises had to be thunder.
I let my shoulders relax, and then I heard it again. My body went rigid. Bombs, it sounded like bombs. And then a faint, colorful glow illuminated the window.
"Oh," I said out loud. "Fireworks." Without warning, emotion bubbled through me and I started crying. There was one main reason for fireworks in the summer, and that meant we were four days into July. Four days into July meant that I had been held captive for over a month.
And I was still locked in the basement. I hadn’t been put to work. In fact, I had been left alone most of this time. I didn’t know where the girls were whisked off too. When they came back, they were only here for a few hours to rest before they went out again. They were constantly working, treated like objects with no traces of human needs or emotions.
I knew it was Nate’s attempt to break my spirit. Being alone in this dark hole was enough to make me go mad. I was constantly scared, and now I was lonely. There were times when I had gone days without seeing the girls but I refused to let it break me. I was alone, but I wasn’t forgotten. I wouldn’t be forgotten. I held onto every ounce of hope I had with no intentions of letting it go.
I always made an effort to get up and move around the basement, keeping my muscles loose and ready to sprint out of here at a moment's notice. Lily and Phoebe helped keep that hope alive. Like me, Phoebe dreamed of running away. Lily hid from the emotions of her painful past by being unusually upbeat and cheerful for someone in our situation. Outside of this hell-hole, I wouldn't have gone out of my way to be friends with either of the girls. But in here, I cared about them. After all, we were all each other had.
More fireworks exploded, masking the sound of the basement door opening. It startled me when Jackson pulled the string, turning on the light.
"Sorry," he said quietly.
His dark wavy hair was wet and pushed back from his face. I blinked in the harsh light and looked at him, realizing for the first time that his eyes were shaped like almonds and lined with thick, dark lashes. I looked away, not wanting to acknowledge I found his dark eyes captivating.
"I brought you food," he told me and slowly approached the cot.
My stomach grumbled with hunger as I looked over the tray. It was always some sort of variation of a cheap school lunch. Today it was turkey sandwiches, fruit cups, milk, yogurt, and cereal bars.
Jackson put the tray on the table and looked at me. He had never tried to so much as touch me, but being alone with him unnerved me. There was nothing stopping him if he ever decided to do, well, anything to me.
"Thanks," I said automatically. "What's going on out there?" I pulled my arms close to me and glanced at the small window.
"Fourth of July party.” He pointed behind him. "The pool is on the other side of the house, so I guess you can't hear the music."
"Oh, right." I looked at the turkey sandwich and then back at Jackson. The pool, right. No wonder his hair was wet. He had been swimming and partying and watching fireworks. I wanted to be angry with him. I wanted to throw the tray across the room and tell him what an awful person he was. Then I caught his gaze again, and he hit me with a pitying stare.
No.
I wasn't going to be like Rochelle, who had a textbook case of Stockholm syndrome. Maybe Jackson really did feel bad for me, but it didn't make him any better than Nate or Zane. A small part of my brain nagged at me, reminding me of the cuts and bruises that frequently decorated Jackson's face. I shook my head, dismissing the issue all together. Whatever happened to Jackson was his business, not mine. Besides, he lived upstairs with Nate and Zane, working with them. He was one of them, and I couldn’t let my guard down, not if I ever wanted to get out.
"Well," he started and pulled on a lose string along the hem of his shirt. "Can I get you anything else?"
Was he serious? I shot Jackson the most incredulous stare I could manage. "Get me the fuck out of here," I said with my mouthful.
He recoiled from my words. "S-sorry," he stuttered. "Bad question." His cheeks turned bright red, and he took a small step backwards.
"Jackson!" a male voice boomed from upstairs. "What the hell is taking so long? We're out of beer!" Zane yelled.
Jackson's body tensed and he whirled around and scurried up the stairs. I stared at the spot where he had been standing and tried to hang onto the anger. It wouldn't be long before the emotions slipped away and I was left feeling empty again.
I finished my food and paced around the basement, thankful Jackson left the light on. Feeling restless, I dragged a chair over to the small rectangular window and put my hands on the ledge. Dusty spider webs crackled and caught on my fingertips. I jerked back and flicked my hand. The webs were old and void of spiders, but it still grossed me out. I couldn't see anything except the distant glow of lights and the occasional bright explosion of fireworks. When my heels started to painfully scream at me, I hopped down from the chair, shock stinging my ankles. My eyes closed as the pain radiated up into my calves. I bent down and pressed my fingers into the muscle, slowly massaging it out.
I pulled my shoulders back and took a breath. I wanted to scream and throw shit and watch it break. I pressed my hands onto my eyes and screamed in frustration.
Something clattered to the floor above me. I removed my hands and blinked. My vision was cloudy with dark spots from the pressure of my hands. I shook my head, huffed, and sank down on my cot. The air was humid and sticky, yet I shivered. I pulled the quilt over my bare arms, the rough fabric itching my skin. I closed my eyes and prayed for the safety of my family and friends.
I couldn't remember the last thing I had said to my mother before I was taken. I had seen her the night before the Pride Parade. I was sitting on the porch, deep into my book. She came home late from teaching a class at the gallery and was startled to see me huddled under a thin blanket, swatting mosquitoes and squinting in the yellow porch light with my book just inches from my face. She told me to come inside and talk with her. I said I would when I reached the end of the chapter I was on. Four chapters later and by the time I was sick of getting eaten alive by flying bloodsuckers, she had already gone to bed. The guilt was like acid in my stomach.
I angrily wiped away tears and lay down, curling my legs up to my chest. The grand finale of the firework show boomed and flashed with fury in the night sky. Scarlet hated fireworks, and I hated that I wasn't there to comfort my dog. The tears began to fall faster. I squeezed my eyes shut so tight they hurt, and I cried myself to sleep.
***
Heels clomped down the basement stairs, pulling me from the gray sleep I drifted in and out of all day. Lily and Phoebe trudged over, collapsing on their cots. I pushed myself up and rubbed the sleep out of my eyes, glad the girls were back.
"Are you okay?" I looked at Lily, who was walking as if she was sore.
"Define okay," she grumbled. "I got the shit fucked out of me."
My heart fluttered, and abhorrence flooded my veins. Heat rushed to my cheeks, speckling them with red. “Where were you?"
"Yacht party," Phoebe said.
"Yacht party?" I echoed. "We're in Iowa."
"It was just a big houseboat," Lily corrected. "On a lake a few hours from here. Nothing spectacular." She used her feet to push off her yellow heels and lay down. "It was hot, the lake smelled like fish, and the boat's air conditioning stopped working like halfway through our trip."
"So many people," Phoebe complained. "Nonstop work."
Horrified and at a loss for words, I looked at Phoebe. The thought of being stuck on a boat in the middle of a lake with multiple clients made me sick to my stomach. Would I eventually be forced to do the same thing? Phoebe began unclipping hair extensions. I noticed she was wearing false eyelashes as well. "Where is Rochelle?"
"With Zane," Lily mumbled.
"What?" I leaned back with shock.
"They're kind of a thing," she explained.
"No," Phoebe interjected. "He use her."
"Not all the time.” Lily yawned. "He says he likes her."
"And I can say a lot of things," Phoebe spat. "Doesn't mean true."
"Whatever.” Lily flipped her hand in the air. "He can be sweet sometimes. Plus he's hot. She's lucky."
Phoebe looked at me and shook her head. "She don't get it," she mouthed to me.
I nodded in agreement, knowing there was nothing sweet about Zane.
"I'm tired," she said with a yawn. "Go to sleep now."
My eyebrows pushed together and I looked at Lily. What the hell would make her think Zane was sweet? I couldn’t refute the fact that he was hot. He had a smile that could literally charm the pants off of almost every woman he met. Zane was nothing but a cold-hearted psychopath.
The basement door opened, bumping into the wall. The scent of his cologne made my skin crawl. Think of the devil, and he shall appear. Looking sleek and sexy dressed in all black, Zane slid around the corner. His tantalizing, blue eyes flitted around the room and settled on me.
"Hello, Adeline," he said, his voice smooth and deep, making me want to puke. He flashed a smile. I glowered at him, waiting for his eyes to turn back as he revealed himself as the demon he really was. "Time for work."
"Work?" I asked, my voice dying in my throat. I had stepped backwards off of a sharp cliff and was falling down, down, down, ripping through frozen clouds. Sharp icicles tore into my flesh. "It's the afternoon," I blurted.
Zane laughed. "So?" He moved with cat-like grace across the floor. "Get dressed. Nothing too flashy. You're going into the city."
"I am?" Something other than fear ran through me. I wasn't sure just what city he was referring to, but there was one thing all cities had in common: people. Lots and lots of people. This was my chance! All I had to do was run, scream, or make a scene and someone would come to my aid. But would I be putting my family at risk? No, I had to try, right? I could get to the police before Zane or Nate could get to my house.
I stood and dizzily walked over to the clothes. I randomly grabbed a garment and pulled it from a hanger. I didn’t care what I looked like. What I cared about was coming up with a plan of attack. Or escape. Or whatever the hell would get me away from Zane.
I turned away from Zane and pulled the long sleeved t-shirt I was wearing over my head, trading it for a white dress. I put it on backwards. The tag tickled my neck. I twisted it again and straightened the hem before taking off my pajama pants.
Zane impatiently drummed his fingers on the chipping drywall that encased the stairwell. I turned around and hesitantly walked to him. His eyes trailed up and down my body. He frowned and then shrugged.
"Good enough," he mumbled and went up the stairs.
My pulse fluttered through me. I cast a glance behind me. I’ll save you too, I thought to Phoebe and Lily. My hand shook when I extended it. I wrapped my fingers around the splintering railing and put my foot on the first step. This was it. My chance. Finally, I would be free.
I blinked from the bright, natural light that streamed into the kitchen. The windows were open, and a soft breeze blew through the large room. I stopped in my tracks and breathed it in. I hadn’t left the basement since my failed attempt at running away. The fresh air felt wonderful.
Zane grabbed my wrist and yanked me forward. "Come on," he grumbled. My bare feet stuck to the tile and I skidded forward. Zane halted and looked down. "Where are your shoes?"
"I don't know," I said honestly. They were removed the night Travis hit me with his car and I hadn't seen them since.
“Don’t move,” he said gruffly and stormed off.
Once he exited the room, I ran through the kitchen to the backdoor. I put my hand on the knob and twisted it unsuccessfully before I noticed the electronic keypad. My parents had a similar one installed on the front door of their house, though theirs was wired to a security system company and allowed my parents to lock and unlock the door with an app on their phones.
I ran my fingers over the smooth keypad and felt my chance of getting out slip away. I stared at the numbers and felt compelled to try a random combination. I extended my index finger and stopped in fear of setting off an alarm. Logic jolted my brain, and I ran back to where Zane had left me not a moment too soon.
"Here," he said and tossed my shoes at me.
I bent down and put them on. The shoes had been new. Now they were stained with mud from running through the forest. Several drops of blood spotted the toe of the right shoe.
"Hurry the fuck up.” He pushed me.
Already off balance from leaning over, I tumbled to the ground. A sickening crunch vibrated in my knee as the bone rolled against the hard floor. I scrambled up and stuck my feet in my shoes. I could lace them in the car.
Nerves began to bubble in my stomach when I stood. Zane grabbed my wrist and dragged me into the foyer. He stopped at the front door, using his body to block the keypad that this door also boasted. I counted four short beeps followed by one long beep and assumed that I needed a combination with four numbers to get out. I tried to come up with the number of possibilities that left me with, but came up empty handed. Math was never my strong point, but I knew it was a lot, a whole fucking lot.
We exited through the dark oak door onto a covered porch that ran the length of the farmhouse. Two white rocking chairs were angled around a little white round table. Baskets of red flowers hung in between each post on the porch, and a terra cotta pot of tiny yellow flowers sat on the first step down.
My pace slowed as I took it all in. The picture-perfectness of it all was unnerving. White and purple petunias followed the cobblestone path around the house and to the driveway. I had just noticed Jackson, who was shirtless and pulling up weeds by the mailbox, when Zane whirled around.
“Do you try to be this fucking slow?” He was right in my face, reaching for my wrist. I snatched my arm back just in time avoiding his touch.
"Keep your hands off me.” I narrowed my eyes, but my voice quivered more than I would have liked.
Zane only laughed and reached into his pocket, pulling out car keys. He turned back around and pressed a button, unlocking a brand new black Camaro. He opened the passenger door for me, and for a split second, I thought he was being polite before I realized he was making sure I got in the car and didn't book it as soon as his ass hit the driver's seat.
I clenched my jaw and got inside. Hot, stale air choked me. Zane slammed the door shut and hurried around to the other side. My hands shook as I reached for the seatbelt. The metal was hot and hurt my fingers when I touched it. Zane slid into his seat with grace. He opened the windows and turned up the air before turning on the radio to a local alternative station. I hated that he liked the same kind of music that I did.
Jackson straightened up when the engine revved, and we made our way down the long driveway. Jackson wiped sweat from his forehead, pushing his long hair back behind his ears. My eyes darted past him to the mailbox, trying to see the address of this forsaken place. I leaned forward to get a better look.
"Like what you see?" Zane snickered.
"What?" I replied automatically. "Oh." He thought I was checking out Jackson, who was surprisingly fit and tan. I gave my head a slight shake, not caring what Zane thought. I leaned back in the seat and nervously picked at my cuticles, trying to pay as much attention as possible to the landmarks and street names that we passed as we made our way into the city. I would need to know them when I sent the police to save the other girls.