“Welcome, Jamie. Must be nice to have people care about you.”
“Son of a—” Placing a finger over Noah’s lips, I shut him up before he makes things worse. His wild eyes meet mine and I nod. Yes, he heard her correctly.
Two years ago . . .
“Will you stop already, Jamie!” Spearing some of my salad, I hold the fork up to point at her. We’re downstairs in the company lunchroom taking a much needed break. “I don’t want to talk about this anymore. Drop it.”
“Why not?” There’s a mischievous glint in her eyes as they shift from mine to Noah’s. “It’s hilarious to see the well put-together Robert acting like a well-trained puppy. The man is dead set on winning you back.”
“That was mean, Jamie. Give the guy a break . . . Robert isn’t a bad guy. He just isn’t for me.”
Beside me Noah snorts and I look over. “What, love?” he asks innocently.
And I ignore the way my insides flutter every time he calls me by any kind of endearment. How his eyes stare at me with affection—like he sees me. All of me, especially what has become so hard to hide.
This attraction is almost suffocating me. Not blurring the lines, maintaining everything professional and polite—a chore.
Shaking my head, I fight to keep the smile off my face. “Please share with the class, Mr. Barker. What in all this. . .” I draw a wide circle in the air between us “. . . is so amusing to you?”
“Last naming me only turns me on, doll. Watch yourself,” he playfully growls, then winks. It’s something that comes natural to him; charisma. “And to answer your question, Ivy, I find Robert’s pathetic attempts to win you back amusing.”
Jamie to the other side of me covers her laugher behind a cough and then mutters something that sounds an awful lot like of course this wanker does.
Placing my fork down, I look him in the eye. “I happen to find it sweet in a way. He wants me bad enough to—”
“Let me stop you right there, Ivy. Your blindness is no one’s fault. Look past him.” The bite in his tone catches me off guard and I gape at him.
“Are you trying to imply something, Noah?” Movement from Jamie’s side makes me look away only to find her entranced in our sparring match. Her eyes are as wide as her smile—ping-ponging between us as if we’re a tennis match.
“Sue me, love, but the cat and mouse game the bloke is losing is in no way, shape, or form romantic.” There’s a bit of a five o’clock shadow on his jaw and he scratches the sparse hairs there. “Robert is panting over a woman that will never be his.”
“I wish you two would stop with the game . . . ouch!” Jamie narrows her eyes at me after I kick her chin.
“Behave, or I’ll send you to spend the afternoon with Valerie.”
Jamie gasps. “You wouldn’t.”
“Try me. Dad owes me a favor and—”
“I wasn’t aware that Racy & Reid pays its employees to hang out and gossip.”
That voice—Jesus Christ, that woman’s voice always manages to raise the hairs at the back of my neck. There’s a touch of spite in her tone that doesn’t go unnoticed by my lunch companions and they tense on either side of me.
It’s creepy how she can sneak up on me at all times.
As if she’s always watching.
Valerie makes me uncomfortable.
“Is there a problem here, Ms. Thornton?” Noah breaks the silence, his acidity matching hers as he pushes his half-eaten plate away. “Am I, or my account, creating a problem here?”
“Of course not, Mr. Barker.” Valerie fidgets at the way Noah coolly looks at her. “You are more than welcome here at any time. Please forgive me if I made you feel otherwise. We are beyond ecstatic to be designing the new campaign for your fall line after all the success we’ve had with the last two.”
“And yet, you have a problem with my companions and I sharing a meal? Is that correct?” Others around us turn to look toward our table. Some murmur between themselves and a few chuckle, something she notices.
Her eyes land on mine and narrow. “We don’t pay you to entertain our clientele. Get back to work, Ivy.”
“I’m on my lunch break and can do as I please with my time,” I say while Jamie next to me nods.
Noah sits back, his posture one of defiance. Dares her to challenge me.
Sensing she won’t win this argument, Valerie turns toward Noah. “Was there something I could do for you while you’re here? Help with anything?” she simpers, her smile a bit predatory.
How she flips between overeager and company bitch leaves a lot to be desired.
“No.” His answer is short and to the point, leaves no room for any sort of conversation.
“Very well then, Mr. Barker.” The smile on her face is as fake as the rest of her. “Enjoy your meal.”
Noah nods, but doesn’t answer and that riles her up all the more. Fist clenching, she breathes hard and turns toward me. “Upstairs in thirty and not a second later, we have work to do. Daddy doesn’t pay his little girl to flirt.”
“Excuse me?” This time it’s Noah and me who answer.
Did I hear her right? Tossing my napkin down on the table, I make a move to stand, but Jamie stops me, shaking her head and ignoring my glare. “Ignore her, Ivy. Company policy dictates that you are in the right here and have no need to engage in an argument.”
“Ahhhh, Jamie. How is everyone in H.R. these days?”
“Fine,” my good friend replies in an even tone. Another employee that Thornton has no control over—treads carefully with.
“That’s good to hear, dear,” Valerie replies with an amused smirk and I’m baffled by the sudden change in her once more.
“What’s so amusing?”
“Nothing, Ms. Ivy Reid.” The emphasis on my last name doesn’t escape me. “Just that it must be nice to have so many people care for you,” the way she mutters this as she turns and walks away makes every muscle in my body lock down. This is more than the dislike of a co-worker.
Just what is her deal?
“Ding dong, the bitch is gone!” Jamie holds her hand up for a high-five a few seconds later and I reciprocate all the while looking at Thornton’s retreating form. Something isn’t right here.
“Are my pets finally catching on? Are they ready to behave?”
We don’t answer.
I’m freaking out; internally crumbling at the sight of my other best friend bound and gagged at the hands of these two. Noah’s hand grasps my own, squeezes, but I’m too busy following the movement of the jester and the demonic doll.
The jagged dagger in her hand is rusty—old. If there is one word to describe it, I will say it’s reminiscent of a relic from the time of knights and kingdoms.
She twirls around the hulking figure, her pirouettes followed by the sound of a carefree giggle. Arms extended out, she slashes at nothing, but the intent is there.
To hurt. To kill.
“Will you behave for our new friends or . . .” the bitch trails off and the implications are there. Jamie will pay the ultimate price. “Because Clarice and Raoul just want to play.”
At that, Raoul, who I assume is the jester, fists the back of Jamie’s hair and tugs her neck back at an awkward angle. Looks painful, and the resounding yell muffled by her gag cements the fact.
The position, his rough treatment of her, forces Jamie’s knees to hit the ground. Her eyes meet mine and the fear in them threatens to bowl me over.
Tears leak from her eyes and in them there is resignation. As if she’s accepting that we won’t make it out of this mess.
“Motherfu—” my hand covers Noah’s mouth before he can finish. At his fail, the doll skips back a few steps and faces our helpless friend.
“That was a bad word, Noah.” Her voice is slightly distorted but I blink at the lack of childlike quality to it. Almost as if . . . As if that’s actually a woman speaking to us. Knife in hand, Clarice holds it against Jamie’s cheek while caressing her hair with the other hand. “We don’t use those. Make good choices.” As the word choices passes through her lips, she pushes the jagged edge in and slices down. Not too deep, but enough that a small river of blood flows.
Jamie’s whimper of pain is followed by a round of applause from the speakers. My stomach threatens to revolt and bile rushes up my throat. This cannot happen again.
I cup my mouth and breathe in and out. “God, please no.”
“We have to be strong for her, love. Please stay with me.” In a way it’s a good thing that Noah’s mistaking my reaction for a breakdown. Will work to my advantage and appease their sick minds.
“What do you need from us?” I ask, my feet moving forward without my permission and the adolescent-like doll snaps her head in my direction. Creeps me out the way she stares at me.
Within the hole of her mask, where the eyes should be, all all I see is black.
“Tut . . . tut, child.” A high in pitch voice carries through the speakers and a harsh shudder rushes up my spine. Shakes me. And the giggle this killer makes is enough to give me an impulse to step back.
That definitely isn’t a child. She looks like one, but the distorted female voice is very much that of a woman. She must suffer from achondroplasia, or something similar that stunted her growth.
She follows my moves now. Mimics my every step until I bump into something hard.
Strong arms encase me for a brief second before pulling me behind him. “Enough with the games. What do you want?”
Her jester makes a growling noise that sounds like a no and she stops. “You’re ruining my fun, Raoul. Let me play.”
Static overtakes the speakers; it’s loud and harsh. Nothing like the norm and everyone freezes. “And you will, my child.” Our captor’s voice is docile, I will even venture out to say sweet when she addresses this monster in kid’s clothing. “But first, we have to make our new friend here comfortable. Remember, Clarice, we always follow the plan.”
“Yes, ma’am.” She nods and steps back without fuss and walks back toward a still kneeling Jamie. There is no pause in her actions, just two simple blinks and the knife comes down once more. This time, the cut is down her right arm.
Blood rushes out at a faster pace and my knees give out on me.
Raoul grunts in pleasure and pulls a writhing Jamie to her feet by her hair. Backs up toward the still open entryway and pauses just outside with his companion right beside him.
All three look our way, but my eyes are set on the demonic doll. There’s a challenge in her posture, as if daring us to step outside of the line again.
“Only nine-hundred-and-ninety-eight cuts to go, Ivy.”
Fuck. Oh God. They’re going to subject Jamie to the Chinese form of execution known as Death by a Thousand Cuts.
A slow, brutal, agonizing way to go.
My eyes overflow with tears at this realization.
“Do you think she’ll make it through to the end?” Clarice asks and my eyes travel to my bleeding friend. She’s alive and that is what counts.
We’ll behave.
For her.
Until I can get us out.
We’ve seen the way, now to find the how.