BLYSS (Blyss Trilogy #1) (13 page)

Our conversation is interrupted by a subtle knock on Nick’s office door. I turn and see Jared, who’s standing in the open doorway with his knuckles still resting on the door. He appears to be reluctant to step in, which means he most likely heard the arguing. “Is everything okay, guys?” he asks warily.

Nick pipes in, wanting our discussion to be closed. “Yeah, we’re done. We were just talking about room seven’s needs.”

“Yeah? How’s she doing?”
 

I chuckle as I speak to Jared while staring Nick down. “Well, she’s quite the little hellcat.”

“That’s for damn sure,” Nick mumbles and moves some papers around on his desk.

Jared must feel it’s safe to come into the room now, since the dissension in the air has calmed down. He’s walked in on Nick and me in a heated argument before and wound up in the crossfire. He’s not cut out for conflict of any kind. He can’t handle all the guts and glory on our side of the business. He’s a science geek, and he’s damn brilliant. Jared heads straight for the refreshment cart, and I shake my head. I don’t know how he stays so damn skinny; he eats doughnuts and other junk foods constantly.

I move to the credenza on the far side of the wall and grab a mug. I begin making myself a cup of coffee because I have a feeling it’s going to be a long day.

“On a different note, we’ve acquired a new client, Craig Reynolds,” Nick says. Mr. Reynolds already put down his deposit for us to begin extrapolating his newly purchased pet from the real world. I figure after you’ve set things up, it will take about three weeks before our men have her captured, brought back here to the facility, and be ready for training.”

“What about the victim?” I ask, slipping into an overstuffed chair in front of Nick’s desk. “Any complications I need to handle—boyfriend,
fiancé…?
” I ask, exaggerating the last word before trailing off and giving Nick the stink eye.

Nick ignores the jibe. “No, she’s been too focused on finishing her master’s and getting her foot in the door with a prestigious firm. She hasn’t had time for one.” He takes a sip of coffee and then eyes me down for a moment in silence. “I will need you to take a trip in about two weeks to begin tracking this girl’s movements, setting the stage for our men to follow her, and then go meet with Mr. Reynolds afterwards.”
 

“Isn’t that when the monthly formal dinner takes place?”

“Yes, but this is more important. I need you there,” Nick says briskly.

“Why don’t you reschedule it? I have been to every one of these formal events. This is not a good idea; you’d be down one man, not to mention I still have a livewire in room seven to contend with.”

“No can do,” Nick shakes his head. “Everything is already confirmed and set up with Reynolds.”

The bastard—he wants me out of the picture so he can have Julianna all to himself, without me interfering, but he’ll only wind up messing with her mind some more. His scheming plan is written all over his face. Once a month, we hold a formal dinner upstairs in the hotel’s main ballroom. It gives us an opportunity to test the women’s loyalty, an experiment to see how each captive behaves in mixed company, if she’s truly accepted her new role, or if she’ll try and bolt for the door. Of course, there is no way out, and security is always doubled upstairs.
 

The room falls silent, everyone lost in their own thoughts until Jared pipes in out of nowhere. “Well, would you like my report on deductive and inductive reasoning regarding the—“
 

Nick immediately cuts him off, “No, and hell no.” He holds out his hands in a stopping motion. Jared is one smart motherfucker, but he doesn’t have the first clue of how to communicate. He can only think in scientific reasoning, and Nick has no patience for it.

 
Nick then turns his attention back to me and asks, “Where are we with the new implant chips?”
 

I clear my throat, wiping the grin off my face that had formed from their exchange. “One of the biggest hurdles right now is we’re waiting for the company to finish perfecting the GPS receiver chips. They do have some working models, but they’re still undergoing extensive testing.”

Nick’s brows furrow, not taking his eyes off mine. “What’s the holdup?” He doesn’t like waiting, and it seems like it’s taking forever to get his hands on this type of technology.

“Apparently, the company has run into a few technical difficulties. The main problem is in order for the chip to be embedded, their power source needs to remain small, yet they still have to be sensitive enough to receive signals from thousands of miles out in space. Their designers are still working on them.”

“How big would that sucker need to be?” Nick asks, grabbing a pen. He begins to jot down a few notes.

“About the size of a quarter. The chip is intended to be embedded in the hip.”

Nick scratches at his chin with one hand, and rolls the pen between his fingers of the other in deep thought.

Leaning forward in my chair, I tell him, “We will need to invest in new detectors and readers. Each is going to cost about five grand, but it’s worth it; this technology is profound.”
 

“Did the company have a target release date?” he asks, tilting his head to the side, outwardly excited about the thought.

“No, they didn’t say.”

He rests back into his chair, tapping his finger on the desk. “Interesting.” Suddenly, he changes the subject, his demeanor immediately tense as he sits up straight. “She’s scheduled to be in the clinic this morning. I want the full work-up.”

“Who?” Jared asks confusedly, as his eyes shift between the both of us, but I know who Nick is talking about.

“Room seven,” he answers.

I shake my head in disagreement. “I’m not sure that’s the best idea. She had a shit-ton of anger yesterday. I think she needs more time, more meds, sedation, or all of the above.”

Jared breaks in with his expert advice. “Nah, Trav, with the amount she’s had for the past thirty-six hours, she really should be at peak level.”

“It’s two against one, Travis,” Nick says, cocking one eyebrow at me.

Placing my empty coffee cup on the end of his desk, I mumble, “Yeah, well, we’ll see about that.” I’m not happy about the decision. “What time is she scheduled?”

“In about fifteen minutes,” Nick informs me.

I look at my watch and get up to leave. “Well, no time like the present. I’ll get the party started then.”

As I reach the door, Jared calls out behind me, “I’ll be in there soon. I just have some lab work to filter through first.”

“No problem, man,” I say, pausing in the doorway.
   

I’m not looking forward to this morning. I’ve been doing this long enough to know when someone is ready to be pushed or not, and right now, she’s not ready. Maybe the reality is I’m not ready to face her. I get this unexplainable feeling when I’m around her, and I need to shut it down. Every time I create a new barrier, she seems to find a way to break through it, and I go soft every damn time. Plus, I’m on the acting stage as it is, since there are hidden cameras every-fucking-where; I have to be careful just how warmhearted I get. I shake my head at the thought of me growing tenderhearted. I have enough nightmares haunting me from my past as a result of having been too softhearted. Being benevolent only serves to cause me weakness, chaos, and pain; that bullshit’s not going to happen. Leaving Nick’s office, I turn down the long hallway, making my way to Julianna’s room. It’s show time.

~Jules~

The alarm went off this morning, just as Travis said it would, and I let a groan escape from my battered body. I’m tired, and every bone in my body aches, especially my skull. I nervously find myself glancing around the room, expecting something like the boogieman to appear if I don’t start moving.

I begrudgingly slip out of bed and take a much-needed shower, still half-asleep. I take an extra-long time standing under the hot spray, enjoying the pounding stream of water beating against my tired and aching muscles.

I didn’t sleep well last night, despite the sleep medicine. My mind had raced with the unknown, and I dreamt crazy dreams of the things that lay behind the set of red curtains. I pull myself from my tired haze and grab the shampoo bottle resting on the shower’s shelf. My eyes squint in disbelief; it’s the very shampoo and conditioner I use at home.
Coincidence?
I shake my head; I don’t think so. I don’t have a good feeling about any of this, but I tell myself it could always be worse. Nick is right; despite my captivity, he’s made sure to provide me with quite a few comforting items.

What I really want to do, instead of getting ready, is fall to the shower floor and cry. If I allow myself to think about Adam, and the things I can’t control right now, I will collapse and fall apart. I want to allow myself the luxury so bad it hurts, but knowing myself, I know I won’t be able to recover. I feel a tiny tear prick at the corner of my eye, and it stings. Using the heels of my hands, I rub my irritated eyes, forcing myself to keep my emotions in check. I shake my head, and keep mumbling out loud to myself, how I need to keep my wits, and stay alert for an escape opportunity.
 

Once I feel the massaging hot spray has loosened my sore muscles, I turn off the shower water and dry myself with a big, fluffy towel. When I make my way out of the steamy bathroom, I feel as if I’m going to faint. I fumble for the sink’s countertop, and grab onto it for dear life. I’m really dizzy, and white spots begin to form before my eyes. My hands grip at the edge of the countertop a little tighter while I try to keep myself steady; maybe it’s a lag effect from all the drugs I’ve been given. It’s an odd sensation, like I’ve been spinning around in circles, then immediately stopped. After the light-headedness subsides, I notice through my peripheral vision I’m standing in front of a mirror, but I’m afraid to look at myself. I wonder how much black and blue will be painting my neck and face today. I let out a sigh and murmur to myself, “C’mon, Jules, just get it over with.”
 

I hesitate for a beat then slowly look up into the mirror and cringe. I bite my lower lip with worry, seeing the bruising on my neck from strangulation; it looks worse today, if that’s possible. My fingertips trail lightly over my sore jaw, taking stock of the damage. I really don’t see any bruising there, thank God, but it’s still sore as hell.
 

Once I decide I’ve had enough of looking at my pitiful self, I suddenly remember I’m on a time crunch, and I don’t know how much time was lost in the shower. I could’ve spent the entire day under the hot stream of water, balling my eyes out. I close my eyes tightly, refusing to revisit my inner turmoils, and focus on what I’m supposed to be doing.
 

I need to get dressed. Travis said my clothes would be laid out for me. I turn around and look at the end of the bed. Yep, someone must’ve come in while I slept and placed my outfit there. I walk over to inspect what it is I’m supposed to be wearing today and am somewhat surprised at what I see. Everything looks brand new and neatly-pressed. Light blue panties and a matching bra sit on top of a light blue, silky, button-up, sleeveless blouse and a pair of black dress pants. Black sandals sitting on the floor complement the ensemble.
 

I guess I could spend all day trying to figure this one out, but instead, I go ahead and quickly get dressed. I run my fingers through my damp hair and let it air dry. I turn around to find a breakfast tray sitting on the small kitchen table. I know I’m probably going to need every ounce of energy I can muster today, so I sit down, uncover my morning meal, and begin to eat. I’m glad it’s oatmeal and soft fruits, something my jaw muscles don’t have to work overtime chewing. I just hope the oatmeal was processed in a wheat-free facility.

By the time I finish my breakfast and brush my teeth and hair, I hear the door to my room click open. There is no noise, and nobody comes from around the corner, so I peek around the corner of the bathroom to find Travis leaning against the wall with his arms crossed over his broad chest. He doesn’t look happy, and I hesitate to step out into the open.

He holds out his hand in a gesture that tells me I’m to follow him. “Come,” is all he says. Yes, Travis is definitely acting distant this morning, and my face falls into a frown. Something had to have put him in a bad mood this morning, because when he left me last night, I thought he was in a decent mood. I feel the tension rolling off his body, and in turn, his scary mood sends prickles of trepidation down the back of my spine while a sense of uneasiness and foreboding fills the air around me.

I reluctantly follow his orders and make my way across the room, stopping in front of him. He wraps his hand around the crook of my elbow, and a shiver of fear glides over me. He guides me out the door and into the hallway, where I try to take inventory should I have the good fortune of escaping. I quickly scan my surroundings, looking for escape routes along the way, but Travis’ stride is so fast I find myself stumbling just to keep up. I swear it looks as if I’m at the Sheraton, but I know I’m not; that just wouldn’t make sense. Thick-patterned carpet covers the hallway’s floor, and art deco lines the walls. I feel like I’m at an art gallery; understated elegance is everywhere I look.

I glance at Travis and ask, “Are we in a hotel?” but I’m met with silence. I’m shocked when I see Travis wave his hand over a sensor and a door automatically clicks open. I peer through the door, and no one has opened it for us; it’s like he spoke a silent “Open Sesame” command.
What the hell? What kind of security runs through this place?