CHAPTER SIXTEEN
DESPITE MY FEAR, there was something calming about being in the familiar setting of Des Moines. My parent's gallery was on the edge of the town, and our house wasn't too far beyond that. My heart swelled when I thought of my family. I was so close it hurt.
Zane stomped on the gas to plow through a yellow light. His reckless driving was going to get me killed … or save me. My eyes widened with hope. If he got pulled over, it all would end. I peered over at the speedometer; he was going ten over the limit. He glanced at me, following my eyes to the dash. He realized how fast he was going and let off the gas.
The hope in me died. Expecting him to make a wise-ass remark, a threat, or even reach over and hit me, I leaned back in the seat and waited. But he did nothing.
Time passed slowly, but I dreaded our destination. The more I thought about the implications of being recognized, the more I was certain I was going to die. I wondered how he would do it. Would it be fast, like an execution? That didn't seem to be Zane's style. There were so many ways to kill somebody. My gut twisted as I thought of the possibilities.
The Camaro lurched to a stop in a familiar alley. I had been there before, I just couldn't place my exact location in the dark.
"Stay here," he growled and cut the engine. Zane scrambled out of the car, ran around to my side, and yanked open the door. "Open your mouth and I'll break your fingers," he threatened. “One at a time.”
I clenched my jaw and nodded. He took hold of my arm and jerked me forward, feet teetering in the stupid heels. The stench of old food lingered in the air and I held my breath when we passed the dumpster.
Zane fumbled with his keys, trying to separate them with one hand. Giving up, he pushed me forward and picked out the right key. I noticed the writing on the door right as he stuck it into the lock.
THE DISH was engraved in gold on a small plaque. I froze when I saw it. I had been here before, just last year. The upscale restaurant opened several years ago and my mom was dying to eat there, but we never got around to it until her birthday last winter. When my dad got the bill and realized the cost of our meal could have bought him another piece at the gallery, he swore he would never go back.
The Dish was a nice, fancy place to eat along one of the more historic streets in downtown Des Moines. Why was Zane taking me here?
"Keep your mouth shut," he reminded me and looked around the alley before pushing open the door.
My heart was still racing. I flicked my eyes to Zane, terrified and so angry at him at the same time. We stepped into a brightly lit break room. Coats and purses hung on the wall next to the time clock. Zane pulled me close and wrapped his arm around me, making it look like we were an affectionate couple. Keeping me smashed into his side, we crossed the narrow room and stepped into an even narrower hall. Just then, a waitress, dressed in all black, rounded the corner.
Zane pushed me up against the wall. His pelvis pressed into mine and his chest flattened my breasts. His cologne instantly suffocated me, and I hated that I found the scent pleasant. He tucked one hand behind the small of my back and put the other on my cheek. Then he kissed me, his lips soft and gently against mine. He slipped his tongue in my mouth and pushed his hips against me, rubbing back and forth ever so slightly. I felt the large bulge in his jeans grow. He was getting off on this.
Abhorrence churned my stomach. I wanted to puke right then and there, but I only held my breath and waited until it was over. I was getting good at that.
"Ugh," the blonde waitress sighed. "Zane," she spoke, her tone heavy with annoyance. My heart skipped a beat. She knew him? "Don't waste your time, honey." She continued walking and I realized she was talking to me. "This boy might be good at the game, but trust me when I say he's a player," she huffed and flipped her hair over her shoulder.
Once she disappeared into the break room, Zane took his lips off mine. He slowly moved his face back and gently traced his fingers down my cheek. I turned my head, not wanting to look at him. He slipped his fingers behind my ear and ground his hips against me. My detestation for him was turning into anger.
"I like the way you taste," he whispered, his breath hot on my neck. “Adeline,” he said, drawing out my name in the most seductive manner. His lips pressed against my neck, sucking at my skin. He moved his mouth up and his tongue found my ear. "It makes me want more," he groaned.
"Suck a dick," I spat and pushed him away.
Zane only held on tighter. "That's your job," he said. He took his hand off of my face and grabbed my wrist. He laughed and pushed off the wall, making sure the coast was clear before he dragged me into an office.
"It's in excellent condition," Nate's voice came from behind a tall, leather chair. My anger turned back into fear. What was Nate doing here? "And can easily be rezoned for business. But I must be honest with you, Phil, I did get another offer just this morning."
Zane closed the door. Nate casually spun the chair around. Shock then rage covered his face when he saw me.
"Listen, something just came up. I’m going to have to call you back," he spat into the phone before slamming it down. He put both hands on the dark oak desk. "What is going on?"
"We have a problem," Zane began. His eyebrows were pushed slightly together and he stood with his legs apart.
"You're damn right we have a problem," Nate said and stood up. "I told you never to bring the girls here. Let alone her. You have one minute to explain," he said calmly.
I wished he would yell; the way he kept himself so collected was so creepy. It was like the calm before a storm, and I had no idea how damaging the winds would be.
"The Asian is sick. I had her fill in," he said, motioning toward me with his head. "Full-service party," he added and took the wad of cash from his pocket. "But one of the clients recognized her."
"And what do you mean by that?" Nate asked, the skin around his eyes tightening.
" He knew who she was, knew she was missing. He wanted the reward money for turning her in."
"And I trust you took care of it?" Nate asked. A vein on his forehead was becoming visible. I watched it pulsate, feeling his angergrowing with each heartbeat. He was going to explode soon, unleashing hurricane winds upon us.
"Of course," Zane said. Standing in front of Nate, he looked boyish and vulnerable. And I still hated his fucking guts.
"Good." Nate's phone rang and he turned to pick it up. "We will figure out the rest of this mess tonight," he said and smiled ever so slightly. His eyes narrowed and he shot Zane a look that said this is all your fault. "Go."
Zane opened the office door, looked around and pulled me out. The blonde waitress was sitting in the break room, but was too busy scrolling through Facebook on her phone to even steal a glance at my face. Zane slammed the door and stepped into the alley. The city was alive on this holiday night and I wanted so desperately to call out for help and run away.
But something might happen to my sister, or Lynn, or my parents. I was close, but Nate and Zane had people even closer. I silently got into the car, my head spinning. Did Nate own The Dish? If he did, it made me sick to think that my family ate a very expensive meal there and put money into Nate's pocket. The talk of rezoning and offers made it sound like he sold real estate too, in addition to an underground sex business.
It dawned on me that people would wonder how he had so much money if he didn't have a legitimate job, and the fact that he was ambitious enough to run not only one but two real businesses scared me. Nate loved money and he would do anything to get it. Now I was certain he would think I was more trouble than I was worth.
I hugged my chest and shivered. I had been too wrapped up in anger and fear to realize that I was cold. My slutty costume left a lot of skin open to the chilly fall air. I looked at the dial for the heater and debated on reaching out and turning it on. I turned the radio on once, and Zane pulled over and hit me. Deciding against it, I huddled down in the seat, closed my eyes, and waited until we arrived back at the farmhouse.
Zane exited first, going around the car as he always did to pull me out. Not needing direction from him, I opened my door and slowly walked down the cobblestone path and onto the front porch. I stood to the side so that Zane could punch in the code to open the door. I stepped into the foyer and removed my shoes from my aching feet
Jackson sat on the living room couch, feet propped up on the coffee table, reading. My nostrils flared as I gave him a jealous stare. He looked up from the book, dark eyes flitting from me to Zane, and pushed his eyebrows together in question.
Zane slammed the door so hard a picture fell off the wall and clattered to the floor. Shattered glass scattered on the dark hard wood floors.
"Clean it up," he spat and glared at Jackson before storming up the stairs.
"Everything okay?" Jackson asked and dog-eared a page in his book, making me cringe.
"When will you learn to stop asking me that?" I retorted and walked through the living room. Tears stung my eyes and I shook my head. I swallowed my emotions and went into the kitchen. To my surprise, the basement door was unlocked and open. I hesitated, looking at the open door as if it was some sort of trick. For months, this door was kept under lock and key and here it was, wide open. Something was wrong.
Fearing something had happened to Phoebe, I pushed past my fear and placed a bare foot on the first step. Dirt and grit stuck to my heel and the wood creaked under my weight. My heart began to beat faster with each step I took.
I finally reached the bottom, the hard, cold concrete familiar on my feet. I reached out in front of me and felt around for the thin white string to pull to turn on the light. I tangled it around my fingers and pulled, bathing the basement in a yellow glow.
"Addie?" Phoebe asked and sat up, blinking. I let out a breath and nodded. "What wrong?" She pushed herself off the cot. "You back too soon."
"Someone saw me," I told her and moved to my cot, which was next to hers.
"Lots of people see us," she replied, confused.
I shook my head. "No, I mean someone saw me and knew who I was. They knew I was kidnapped."
Phoebe's eyes widened, and she almost smiled before she shook her head. "How you come back here?"
"Zane … Zane killed him,” I spat.
Her face blanked. Then shock brought up her eyebrows. “Kill?”
I swallowed and pressed my hands over my chest. “Yeah. He just shot him. Right there.” I moved my hands to my face, pressing my cold fingers on my cheeks. “It was like he panicked.”
“Wow. Kill is messy,” she said. “Maybe he get caught.”
That hadn’t even occurred to me. “That would be wonderful.”
“We can hope.”
I let out a breath. “And I do.” Phoebe gave me a halfhearted smile. "How are you feeling?" I asked her, feeling bad for not addressing it right away.
She shrugged and held out her hands, revealing reddish brown spots. "Doesn't hurt," she assured me when she saw the concern on my face. "But I have headache and bumps here." She pointed under her chin and on the back of her neck.
"Your lymph nodes are swollen," I told her and she gave me a puzzled look. "It means you're sick and your body is fighting an infection."
"Oh," she said and nodded. "I feel okay other than headache," she said. "Just tired."
"Get some rest," I told her. She nodded, pulled the blanket around her shoulders, and lay back down. I began to get that disorienting floating feeling where my mind tried to escape reality. I longed for a book to get lost in, to worry about someone else's problems and forget about my own.
I got off the cot and tip-toed over to the dresser, trading the witch costume for a pair of pink pajama pants and an oversized white t-shirt, and hurried back to my cot. The basement wasn't heated. I dreaded the winter. If it was cold in here in October, it could only get worse. I curled up in the fetal position and wrapped the thin quilt over my body.
Worry about Phoebe competed with the fear and disappointment that swam in my head. I knew she wouldn't get any sort of medical care. She would get better. She had to. I didn't want to see her suffer just as much as I didn't want her to leave me.
Hot tears dripped down the corners of my eyes. A bubble of sadness began to form in my stomach and tears dripped down the corners of my eyes. I had been recognized. I was so close to being saved again, and the chance had slipped right through my fingers. I wiped my eyes and sighed.
Was part of me happy Zane had shot Mario? I didn’t want to be glad about anyone's death, well, anyone who wasn’t Nate or Zane. Did he—the guy dressed like Mario—deserve to die? He knew who I was, knew I had been kidnapped. He could have brought me in, saved me. I would have promised not to tell that he bought me for a party. He would have saved me and gotten the reward money.
But no, he wanted more. He was a greedy, horny bastard. Yes. I was glad he was dead. I didn’t feel bad about that.
The bubble popped when I thought of the agony my mother must be feeling. A sob escaped my lips. I turned my head into my pillow and cried myself to sleep. I had only slept for a few hours when Lily and Rochelle came down the stairs, chatting loudly about the wild party they had been to. Rochelle talked like she was there as a guest, enjoying the food and free drinks. I pretended to be asleep, not wanting to talk.