Lace Underground: The Complete Trilogy Page 21

  I hear deep voices and laughter above. I recognize Blake’s instantly and the two guards, but I don’t hear Kane’s smooth tone. I glance down to discover I’m in my bathing suit. I shift to drop my legs over the side and my tender ass quickly reminds me of what happened moments before I collapsed in exhausted anguish. The ache in my head assures me that I cried myself to sleep.

  I walk to the porthole in the wall and stare out. We are still in the marina, still sitting amongst the other yachts and pleasure boats. The sun is lower in the sky signaling that I’ve slept through most of the afternoon. My stomach is painfully empty, and I’m slightly nauseous from the subtle rocking of the boat.

  I walk into the bathroom. It’s grander than a king's, with gold plated hardware and alabaster white tile. I turn on the hot water, needing badly to rid myself of the deep shiver that threatens to overwhelm me. But it’s not just from the nectar. I can no longer pretend or ignore what my inner self has been screaming all this time. I’m captive. I’m his captive, the madman’s prisoner. I need to find a way out.

  The hot water clears my head more. If I skip a dose of nectar, I’m going to feel as if I’ve been chewed up and spit out. It’ll be hard, maybe even impossible to function. But then an injection will also make it hard to function. I'll just care less.

  I’m convinced that Kane would never just return me to the streets. He would kill me first. I spent days worrying and fretting that he would tire of me and send me away or hand me off to his club members. If only he had. It is easy to see why Blake wanted so badly for it to happen.

  A knock on the bathroom door startles me out of my thoughts. I'm relieved when Blake's face pops inside. "How are ya feeling? You were sleeping like a bear in winter." He steps into the bathroom. "And here I thought you'd be too excited about the fresh air and sunshine to rest."

  I smile through the glass door at him. "I guess I was so overwhelmed by it, I got tired." Thankfully, it seems he didn't notice what was happening on the boat when he and the guards returned. If he had, he would have mentioned it to me. Discretely and without judgment because he was a good friend. But as close a confidante as he's become, I can't let him in on my plans to escape. As I stand in the shower it occurs to me this trip outside the underground compound is probably my only chance for freedom.

  "Where is Mr. Freestone?" I ask casually as I rub shampoo through my hair.

  Blake looks at the big chrome watch on his wrist. "He should be back in a few hours. He went to look at a couple islands."

  The shampoo bottle slips from my fingers. Adrenaline shoots through me. A few hours with him away. It's all I need.

  "We've got some food up on deck. Do you need some help getting dressed?" Blake asks.

  I open the shower door and grin. "As I've told you before, I've been dressing myself like a big girl for many years."

  "Yeah, yeah, big girl stuff, I know. I'll be back down in fifteen to give you your injection." He laughs. "Just hope I can manage it. Jason bought a bottle of tequila. We've been gulping down margaritas. No boss around is kind of nice for a change." He freezes and turns back to me. "Don't tell him I said that though."

  "Never." The margarita buzz gives me a new idea. Rather than start a defense right then about skipping the nectar, I decide to take a chance that he'll just forget it.

  Blake walks out. I quickly finish my shower and dry off. As the towel rubs my legs, the tiny invisible ants start their trek up my skin. I ignore the unsettling sensation. I don't have time to waste fretting about withdrawals. I'll deal with those once I'm free, I decide with what I know is ridiculous confidence.

  I pull on shorts and a t-shirt. The leather cuffs and anklets sit on the dresser. Kane allows me to go without them on the yacht. My plan is to head straight to the local police station, wherever that might be. It could very well be a long trip. I would give anything for my favorite pair of sneakers, but they are sitting snuggly in my closet waiting for Angie's return. I'm stuck with sandals. I'm sure I can run just as fast and far in them with the right motivation behind me. And I'm motivated.

  I hurry and leave the room, wanting to get up on deck and away from the bedroom as quickly as possible. It's part of the plan to make Blake forget the nectar. I also don't have minutes to waste.

  The bright sun reminds me of the headache, the low thudding in my skull that has only just started. It will get worse, far worse. I have no choice except to power through.

  Blake, Jason and Oscar are sitting on the deck chairs drinking margaritas. Blake and Jason have something more than a friendship going on. Blake shares snippets of details, but for the most part, they keep it out of plain sight. One thing is certain, Kane's men are very loyal. They would have to be or he would never keep them on. He lives an entirely clandestine existence. It seems he keeps it that way with undying allegiance from others. Only now he's broken his rule and pulled me into his secret world. Even though I've given myself to him in every way possible, I never swore any loyalty oath to the man.

  Jason is a giant of man with a shaved head and tattoos that make him look nothing short of menacing. But he has a friendly enough smile when he's not in bodyguard mode. The two guards have never said one word to me. Jason is the first to see me step onto deck. He gently nudges Blake's foot with his own.

  Blake looks starry eyed and happy to be sitting on a yacht with the man he loves. And out from under the watchful eye of the man he serves. The entire atmosphere on the boat is lighter without Kane on board.

  Blake holds up a glass filled with a cold, slushy drink. "Here you go, darlin'. This one has your name on it." He's definitely drunker than I anticipated. It seems luck is still with me. There is no mention of nectar, except for in my mind where the pleasure centers in my brain are silently begging for it. I have to consciously avoid rubbing my arms or risk bringing it to Blake's attention.

  I walk over and take the drink from his hand. I glance around at the endless scenery and focus on the shoreline. "I would love to take a walk around the shopping village I see in the distance. I can't buy anything but since I've been penniless most of my life, I've perfected the art of window shopping. Or kiosk shopping in the case of the open air market." I end my little wishful thinking session with a pleading smile. "Since Mr. Freestone isn't around, maybe I could walk about for just an hour. I won't be long."

  Blake looks over at the guards. They are both wearing black sunglasses, making it impossible to read their thoughts. In fact, it is always impossible to know what they are thinking. They play the part of the unflappable guards very well, like they've been trained to stand outside Buckingham Palace in tall black hats. In the end, I know Blake is higher on the decision pole than either of the guards. Especially when it comes to me. That thought suddenly fills me with icy dread, something that selfishly hadn't occurred to me until right now. What will happen to Blake if I run? Will he be punished or sent back to the streets? Or worse? I have no choice but to push the ugly thoughts from my head. I have to go.

  "Sure, darlin', I guess a little shore excursion won't hurt. I can even lend you a few dollars. Maybe you can buy yourself a straw hat. Your nose is starting to look a little Rudolph-y."

  "Yay. Thank you so much. I'll make it short. I'll go into the bedroom and put on some sun block first." I decide to play the perfectly obedient little captive so as not to let on anything is amiss. I rush into the room and find a tube of sun block in the well stocked bathroom. I smear it on quickly and then mentally slow myself down before walking calmly back up to the deck.

  11

  Angie

  The guards are standing at the railing, lowering the gangplank to the dock. Blake has pulled on his own straw hat. My heart sinks low in my chest as I realize they are all planning to tag along with me, making my escape tougher. In fact, two massive, relentless bodyguards and an equally attentive personal assistant tougher.

  "Are you ready?" Blake asks.

  "Uh huh." My earlier enthusiasm has wilted like a dying flower. My only hope is that t
hey are all drunk enough on tequila to let their eagle eye watch over me morph more into a sparrow eye.

  Blake walks next to me along the dock, while Jason leads the way and Oscar brings up the rear. It feels like we are on a runway, putting on a show for the other yacht owners. I feel a bit like a prisoner being transported to a new facility. The odd procession of the skinny red head being escorted by three men along the dock, two of them menacing, draws attention from the other boaters. One particularly snooty looking woman, who looks as if she's just had her lips plumped, lifts her sunglasses to stare boldly at me from the deck of her expensive yacht. I shrink down under her glower. Paranoia creeps into me as I mull the possibility that everyone in the marina saw Kane and me at the stern. A warm blush creeps up my skin, making the tingling sensations worse, as I talk myself into the idea that everyone wants to get a good look at the woman who openly had anal sex in front of the whole damn dock. I know the unsettling paranoia is from the nectar but it doesn't help ease my mind.

  I release a sigh when we are finally off the dock and out of sight of the other boats. Some of my earlier hope returns, along with a rush of adrenaline, when we reach the open market. It's packed with people, locals, anxious to sell their wares and vacationers, anxious to fill their suitcases with unnecessary souvenirs.

  Jason stops at the entrance of the market. Even with his dark sunglasses, I have no doubt he is watching me. With the slightest lift of his chin, he gives Blake the go ahead to lead me into the market. I truly am a prisoner, and the guards know that if their ward runs off, there will be hell to pay.

  Blake and I stop at a stand with straw hats. I pretend to be interested in choosing one. I see Oscar walk through the market, head and shoulders above everyone else. His big, dark head stops at the end of the market stalls. A guard at each end and my personal guard at my side. It doesn't make for an easy escape. In between trying to figure out how to get out of their line of sight for long enough to make a run for it, I'm feeling less and less confident about leaving at all. The nectar has me under its control, possibly even more than the man who formulated it.

  Blake is grinning ear to ear as he jams a wide brimmed hat onto my head. "Jason and I are really bonding on this trip. We needed this time away."

  "That's great." I force a smile. Without thinking, I rub my arm vigorously to stop the invisible ants.

  Blake's mouth drops open. "Oh fuck. We forgot your injection." He speaks loud enough to draw the attention of two women also perusing the hats. We are all so sheltered it seems we've forgotten what it's like out in public.

  "I'm fine," I say quietly. "You can give it to me when we get back." There's just enough edge in my tone to make him worry more.

  "Maybe we should cut this trip short." He takes hold of my elbow and leads me away from the hats and the nosy women. "The boss is already angry about the extra dose I gave you before we left. If I don't keep you on schedule—"

  "Stop," I say curtly. "I'm fine. You said he won't be back for a few hours."

  "What the hell do I know? You might have noticed that the man doesn't exactly share personal details about his day."

  "Please, let's just stay a little longer."

  Blake follows close at my heels as I wander over to a produce stand. The heady fragrance of tropical fruit in the hot sun should make my mouth water. Instead, I feel sick to my stomach. I force myself to taste a sample of the mango being held out to me by the round-cheeked produce seller.

  Blake has temporarily forgotten his anguish as he picks up a cup of freshly cut papaya. "This is Jason's favorite." He glances toward the front of the market where Jason is standing, looking completely out of place in his black t-shirt and sunglasses.

  I elbow Blake. "Buy him some. He looks awfully hot standing there. I bet he'll appreciate it." I wink. The simple gesture hurts my head, reminding me that the headache is gaining in intensity.

  Blake likes my idea and digs into his pocket for some money. "While you're handing out cash, I would love one of those pastries from that cart over there."

  Blake looks more than a little shocked. "You are craving food and fattening food at that? Can't say no. Here you go." He drops some cash into my hand and picks up the biggest cup of papaya. "Buy your pastry and make sure it's the one with the most calories. I'm going to take the fruit to Jason."

  My muscles tighten and I go into flight mode. I would give anything to be free of the hampering side effects and residual lack of clarity left behind by the nectar. Angie Tennyson would not only have run by now, but she would have been halfway home. The thought of home makes my chest tighten and pushes steely resolve through me.

  I glance toward Oscar. His focus is on a pair of street vendors arguing about something. Blake has Jason's full attention and vice versa. Young love has given me my opportunity. I slip past the pastry cart and shoot out to the street. A sharp horn grabs my attention. I jump back out of the way of a taxi cab that is barreling through town.

  I'm on the back side of the market. I head toward the next street and decide to get lost in the pedestrian and bicycle traffic ahead. I glance back to see Oscar's tall head disappear into the market. They are on to me. I turn another corner, not sure which way to go and wishing my head felt better. I decide my best bet is to head away from the coast.

  A fairly young, lanky man wearing board shorts is leaning next to his truck. The tails of two surfboards are sticking up over the tailgate. He is surrounded by a fragrant cloud of marijuana as I approach him. His skin is tanned so dark, it looks a bit like leather. It makes his stained yellow teeth look almost white by contrast. His grin widens when he sees me walk toward him.

  "Excuse me, could you direct me to the police station?" I realize too late that my question might be a little off putting for a man hiding a joint behind his back. "I've lost my party. I'm hoping they can locate them for me," I add quickly.

  He clucks his tongue. "Is that right? Well, it's a good six miles to the station, but I'd be happy to give you a ride. My friend and I are heading back that way right now."

  I lean over and notice another guy with more of a sunburn than a tan staring at me through the back windshield. I take a quick peek over my shoulder. Jason and Oscar are running my direction.

  "Sure. Thanks. But could we hurry?" I motion back. "See that big guy running toward us with the shaved head? I stole his wallet."

  I take a chance by adding a bit of spunk to my character and intrigue to my story. He looks like the kind of guy who would appreciate it. The lie works. He's smiling ear to ear as he opens the truck. I slide into the cab next to his friend. My heart nearly jumps from my chest as it takes the guy three ignition turns to get the motor started. We take off down the road. I glance back.

  Oscar and Jason have just reached the place where the truck was parked. Blake is a block or so behind, looking white as a sheet. A knot of guilt forms in my chest. I can only hope that Kane doesn't take it all out on him.

  I turn forward and sigh with relief. Tears sting my eyes, but I wipe them quickly away. The two men on either side of me smell overwhelmingly of weed and body odor. And I'm slipping into the full effects of withdrawal. But I don't care. I'm going home.

  12

  Angie

  The truck turns down a long road that seems to be leading away from the hub of the city. My intuition isn't nearly what it should be, but my body tightens with the first indication of trouble. I would never have climbed into the truck if Kane's two guards hadn't been closing in on me.

  The road gets rougher as most of the asphalt falls away leaving only potholes and dirt. There are overgrown fields and jungle-like copses dotting the side of the road.

  "Why is the police station all the way out here in the middle of nowhere?" It's obvious we aren't heading toward any station or any part of civilization, for that matter, but I decide to play the innocent until I see my chance. Detective Tennyson would be angry and steeled for a fight, but my weakened physical and emotional state makes it hard for me to stay strong
. It seems I can't catch a break.

  The driver who has a sharp nose and weak chin peers over at his buddy with a not too subtle sparkle in his eye.

  "You know what," I say airily as if I still have no clue what's going on. "I just remembered, I can't go into the station. I've got a few outstanding tickets. Just let me out here, and I'll walk back to town."

  "Might as well join us for a little party since you've got nowhere to be." The driver pulls a bottle of tequila out from under his seat. He takes his hands off the wheel. The truck waddles side to side on the crumbling road as he opens the bottle. His eyes are off the road too as he lifts the bottle straight up in the air and takes a few loud gulps. "Ahh. Good stuff." He hands it to me. I pass it straight to his friend.

  "Aren't you going to take a drink?" he asks. "And here I thought our sweet little wallet thief was going to be more fun."

  "Nope," I say. "I'm the opposite of fun." My skin is crawling from withdrawals. An idea pops into my head. I start rubbing my arms vigorously. It gives me some relief and makes me look much less appealing as a new party friend. "Plus, you don't want to catch what I've got because it's not pretty. I've got rashes all over my body." I lean over and rub my legs. It feels so damn good I don't want to stop.

  The passenger has a gristly beard and dirt in the creases on his neck. "Don't see any rashes," he says.

  "Oh, they are there. Feels like an army of ants on my skin." The driver pulls a sharp left turn. I pop off the seat and land halfway on the passenger's thigh as the truck hits a big rut.

  The creep takes advantage and quickly jams his hand under my ass for a major grope. I squirm away from his grasp but really have nowhere to go.

  The driver stops in front of the ruins of a small building. The roof is filled with holes and every window has been broken out. Vines snake around the leftover walls as if they are the only thing still keeping them standing.