vnNeSsa1 (18 page)

Chapter 24

I look out the limo window, shaken, off-balance. At least all the wild horse nonsense distracted him from the cell phone. Hopefully he’ll forget about it.

We arrive at the airport. My nerves set in. I begin to wonder
whether ten thousand dollars is too much money to try to get through security. Soon I’ve convinced myself we are going to be stopped dead in security because of the hidden money in my carry-on. Liam is going to kill me.

It’s difficult for me to hold it together for the long trek through the security line. It feels like all the officers are staring at Liam and me. But, to my amazement, they let us through without comment. I feel like a new colt on shaky legs as I walk to the waiting area. I’m looking for a seat to collapse in when Liam surprises me by slipping his arm around my waist and pulling me close.

“Do you see how people stare at us, Savannah?” he whispers in my ear. “We make a beautiful couple.” He gives me a possessive kiss on the cheek. The moistness from his mouth lingers long after the kiss. It feels as if he’s branded me, marked me as his own.

My stomach churns with rage, helplessness, revulsion. Game player. He knows how much I want to help Tink. He knows he’s in control. He’s pushing me to see how far I’ll go. How far
will
I go?

Earbuds go in my ears the minute we’re seated on the plane. My eyes close, but the image of Liam’s self-satisfied expression is burned into my brain. The plane takes off. Questions turn over in my mind. Finally, I snatch the buds out of my ears and turn my head toward him.

“So, do you handle prostitutes on the streets or just the ‘elite’ girls?” I say, trying to keep the sarcasm out of my voice, but not succeeding very well.

“Keep your voice down,” he hisses, looking around. When he sees nobody is paying attention, he smiles at me. “I started out on the street myself. Then managed a couple of girls. Saw unwanted or untraceable runaways as a unique opportunity. A very few are gorgeous and untraceable. They are the elites. Connections all over town send potentials to me. I manage only the elites now.”

“Doesn’t the owner of the hotel get suspicious?” I ask, a mixture of feelings coursing through me. Liam laughs, a snorting sound through his nose.

“Sweet Savannah,” he says, condescension clear in his tone. “The owner is well-connected to
both politicians and to a certain family. They are only too happy to profit from the considerable bounty I bring in from my elites.”

I’m qu
iet for a minute, embarrassed. I feel naïve, but there’s another reason for my silence. Along with the mix of emotions in my gut is pity for Liam. He was a prostitute on the streets and that makes me feel sorry for him. I don’t like the feeling. I’d rather hate him. I take a long look at him. He looks back at me with his beautiful face and blank eyes. My heart hardens. He’s hurting Tink.

“What if your rich guys randomly choose a girl in the show
who’s not one of your elites?” I ask, checking my seat belt in response to the landing announcement that has just been given.

“I do my homework. I choose my clients carefully. They have a taste for young girls. Not too young, of course. Under fifteen
, it’s hard to pass for eighteen, even onstage. Oh, don’t look so disgusted. It’s business. They choose the young ones, who I’ve always gotten from the streets. Hotel management and I have an agreement. My gorgeous, young street girls get hired into the show.”

This news hits me like a sledgehammer. I thought before that absolutely everything had been stripped from me. I was wrong. Liam’s managed to take away one more thing.

“So, it wasn’t my good dancing that got me hired,” I say bitterly. “I just looked good enough to be one of your prostitutes.”

“Actually, Savannah, it was my good luck that you happen to be a good dancer.” I can see by the expression on his face that he’s enjoying my pain, so I turn away and look out the window. Tears well up in my eyes and I blink them away. He won’t get another ounce of satisfaction on this trip from seeing me suffer.

My mouth stays firmly shut until we land. The earbuds go back in my ears and stay there throughout our long layover in Denver. He makes a couple of attempts to get my attention. Even looking at him makes me ill. I keep my focus on my music and the cold Denver landscape outside the terminal building’s large windows.

Liam nudges me sometime later. I feel a bit disoriented, perhaps from dozing.

“What?” I say, no doubt with an edge, reluctantly removing my earbuds.

“You might be interested in this text from your former boyfriend,” Liam says, voice neutral, blue eyes icy.

Finally got info from woman. Was tough. She’s a dresser for dancers. Savannah was working with her. Can’t find Savannah. Do you know where she is? Want to question her
.

I try to keep the shock off my face. If Victor is a cop, he’s jeopardizing everything to find me. If he’s not a cop, he’s a
—

“What a tool
,” I say, trying to sound betrayed. Liam’s staring intently at me. “What’s he going to do with Josie now?”

“He’ll do what he’s been instructed to do, Savannah,” Liam says dismissively. He’s still searching my face. “How shall I answer him?”

“Tell him the truth,” I say with as much venom as I can pump out. “He’s one of your
boys
, isn’t he?”

“OK, Savannah,” he says, putting the honey back in his voice. “Here goes.”

Liam taps rapidly on his phone and shows me the text when he’s finished.

Savannah’s with me. Love her spirit
. U know how u tame wild horses, Victor? That’s what I’m going to do to Savannah. I’ll take good care of her. No worries
.

He watches my face carefully as I read,
and then very deliberately presses the Send button. It takes everything in my power not to rip the phone from him and smash it on the floor. This guy is twisted. Keeping my fear and anger from showing is nearly impossible.

“Serves him right,” I say, trying to channel my emotions into playing my part. “But can you back off the wild horse thing?”

Liam just laughs and strokes my arm. The boarding announcement for our flight gives me the excuse to stand and escape Liam’s touch. When I look back at him to see whether he’s coming, he holds up his phone to show me that he’s switching it off. An odd gesture. It’s as though he knows Victor’s concerned about me and he wants me to know he can just switch him off. Liam’s in control. He has the power.

We finally board the red-eye to New York City at
one thirty a.m. Other travel-weary passengers shuffle on to the plane with us. The earbuds go back in and my eyes close in pretend sleep. There’s no way I can sleep.

My mind keeps wrestling with Victor’s role in this mess. The central question: is he a good guy or a bad guy? For that matter, am I a good guy or a bad guy? Frustrated, I give up and force myself to figure out what my next step is once we get to New York.

My eyes fly open when the plane bumps roughly onto the tarmac at New York’s LaGuardia Airport. The few hours’ sleep hasn’t done me much good. My eyes feel scratchy. My muscles feel cramped and sore.

Liam hustles us off the plane, wheeling our carry
-on bags. It’s cold outside the enormous terminal building. My breath plumes white in the air as we hurry from the terminal and climb into a cab.

Even though it’s fairly early in the morning, the city hums with activity. Traffic is heavy. Horns yell like people throwing angry insults back and forth. We merge onto West 278
and then West 495. Signs tell me we are headed for midtown Manhattan. Liam doesn’t talk, just texts on his cell. We go through tolls and a tunnel and finally arrive at a hotel that has a lot of columns and two canopies on the outside.

“Is this where Tink is?” I ask, all weariness falling away at the prospect of seeing her.

“Soon,” Liam says, talking to the cab driver and ushering me into the building. We cross the lobby and walk directly to the elevators. Liam punches the number to one of the top floors. It’s only when Liam is opening the door to the room that it dawns on me that he hasn’t brought any luggage along.

My questions are cut off by his gentle push into the room. It’s ultra
-modern inside: all black, white, and chrome. I see tall buildings outside windows that line an entire wall. But the item that rivets me is the soft pink dress on the bed with matching shoes on the floor.

“What is this, Liam?”

“Make-up and everything else you may need is in the bathroom,” Liam says briskly, all business. “You’ll have a visitor at noon today. Clean up, eat, and get some rest so you’ll look your best.” He backs up toward the door. My brain is very slow to take in his words. It’s refusing to process them.

“You can’t leave, Savannah. I have all your things. Cooperate and I’ll take you to Tink.” Before I can open my mouth to protest, he walks out the door.

I stand there for a beat and the roaring starts in my ears. Before my body can freeze up, I will it to
move
, jerking the door open.

I run into the corridor and slam into the chest of a
three hundred pound bodybuilder.

Chapter 25

I bounce off the huge guy like a basketball off a backboard. It takes just a pivot on the ball of my foot and then my legs are pumping full speed down the hall after Liam. But as enormous as this guy is, he’s quick. In just a few strides, he’s caught up with me and scooped me up in one arm.

“Liam!” I scream, full of rage at being tricked. How stupid of me. Of course he’s going to betray me. He told me himself when he first met me never to trust him. He even gave me a hint about this “opportunity” on the way to New York. It must amuse him to play with me. A cat with a mouse.

There are three other hotel doors on this floor. Not one of them opens to see what the commotion’s about. The rich guy coming to see me no doubt bought out the floor. And Liam is probably laughing about my scream as he rides the elevator down to his home in hell. Or wherever it is the devil lives.

My guard—because that’s obviously what he is—waits patiently for me to settle down. My rage at Liam is channeled toward him and I scissor my legs, aiming to kick him in the head. My foot grazes his ear, which seems to surprise him. Instead of getting angry, he starts laughing, making me madder.

“OK, Ms. Anders,” he says, still laughing, “back inside.” He deftly keys the door open with one hand and drops me into the room with the other. I turn to go back out, but he firmly slams the door with a teeth-jarring rattle.

I charge toward the door, grab the handle, and then my hand drops away when I consider the futility of it. When the rage starts to recede, the fear flows in.

My God, what am I going to do?

My eyes stray to the phone on the bedside table. I could get an outside line and call the police. But, of course, Liam would have that covered. He would have paid off hotel staff and they would be on the alert for any calls to police. Besides, I would be saved, but Tink would be lost.

Right now, make up your mind about trusting Victor. Because he knows the situation. You need help here. Admit it.

So I make up my mind.

I need a cell phone. The gorilla must have a cell, but how to get it from him? Wrestling it away is not an option.
However, a pink dress, if used properly, can be an even more powerful tool than ripped muscles
.

My mind focuses on the task at hand. My panic stays at bay as I strip off my jacket, jeans, shirt, underwear and take the hottest shower I can stand. A blow-dry and light make-up follow.

Wrapped in a towel, I walk back into the main room and reluctantly eye all the pink stuff on the bed. There’s a sheer pink bra and panties set to go with the pink dress. I put it all on.

It makes me angry that the dress fits so perfectly. It makes me doubly angry that it achieves Liam’s purpose of making me look young and innocent and sexy all at the same time.

I slip the damn pink flats on, walk to the door, take a deep breath and open it.

“Hi,” I say with what I hope is an encouraging smile. The dress does seem to have an effect on the guard. He looks my body over with rat eyes. His mouth opens. I wonder
whether he’s going to start panting like a thirsty dog. “How’s your head?”

“What?” he says, staring at my boobs, not comprehending. “Oh, it’s OK,” he says, rubbing where I grazed his ear with my kick.

“Would you like to come inside and have a drink with me?” I say, moving a little closer to him, looking up into his face, not blinking. “You know, to make up for my behavior earlier.”

He doesn’t move for a moment. Then he steps back.

“No, I can’t. I’m not supposed to.” Rat eyes squint at me.

“That’s really too bad,” I say, keeping my eyes on his face and make a move as though to touch his
overpumped arm. “I have a lot of time and I’m bored. Oh, well. Let me know if you change your mind.” I keep looking at him, and then slowly turn around, open the door and ease myself back into the room.

Damn. This is going to be difficult. Maybe take a drink out to him. Talk some more. Invite him in for another. Time will be tight, but…

There’s a quick rap on the door. I’ve opened it before he’s finished knocking.

“Maybe I’ll have just one drink,” he says, eyes on my
chest again.

“Great. What would you like, uh
—?” I cross to the mini bar and he heads for the loveseat by the windows.

“Gabe. A beer.” He settles his bulk on the delicate couch, looking ridiculous. I open the beer, sway my hips across the room, and sit very close to him. My time is limited. My brain is working furiously.

Chat about dumb things for a while. Let him drink three-quarters of the beer. Laugh a lot and touch his arm when you laugh. Get him to relax
.

“You look hot, Gabe,” I say,
and then laugh like a hyena, hoping his small brain caught the joke. “Why don’t you take off your jacket?” I’m screwed unless his cell phone is in one of his front jacket pockets because I’m sure as hell not going to go groping for it in his pants pocket.

He obediently takes off his jacket and drapes it next to himself over the back of the loveseat. Perfect.

“Can I talk you into taking off your shirt, too? You know, your chest and arms are just so…” Definitely moving into dangerous territory, but I don’t want him to get suspicious about removing just his jacket.

He surprises me by how quickly he strips off his shirt. I try to act suitably impressed, running my fingers over his torso and biceps. He flexes obligingly.

In the next instant, Gabe seems to tire of this odd foreplay and suddenly whips me onto his lap. He crushes me to him and kisses me hard. I have to fight against a strong impulse to bite him and scratch his eyes. He releases me and looks into my face, panting.

I look back and wish I hadn’t. His lips and chin are practically nonexistent, giving him the look of a turtle. Up close his skin is rough and dry-looking.

“You’re beautiful,” he says, and I feel kind of bad for what I’ve been thinking.

He pulls me back to him for another kiss on his turtle lips and my stomach lurches.
I’ve got to get his cell.
Time to speed this up.

I flip one leg around so that I’m straddling him. He responds by flicking his tongue in and out of my mouth like mad. It reminds me of a lizard and makes me want to hurl. He’s also very obviously
excited. An overpowering urge to hide in the bathroom grips me. It is not an option.

Instead, I force myself to act excited while my left hand creeps toward his jacket pocket.
Oh no. It’s not in that one. Let’s check the other one. Don’t even think about breaking off this kiss until I’m done.
His hands are moving down my back to my behind.
Oh, thank God, the cell’s in here
.

My groping hand eases the phone from the pocket. I slip it behind a pillow on the loveseat and immediately break off the kiss. Gabe looks dazed.

“You are so hot,” I say breathlessly. Then before he can say a word, “I’ve got to run to the bathroom, but I’ll be right back. Don’t move.” I roll off him on the pillow side, sliding my hand under it to retrieve the phone. In a few strides, I’m in the bathroom.

Victor’s number is burned into my brain. Despite their trembling, my fingers cleanly strike the touch screen and send the text that has been rehearsed so many times in my mind.

At Chapman Hotel. NYC
.
Still need to find Tink. Advise
.

Flushing the toilet, pacing around the room, checking my pale reflection in the mirror, I wait an eternity for his response. It finally comes.

OK. Hold on
.

Disappointment floods me.
Hold on for what
, I want to scream at the phone. I can’t hold on. I’ve got to get back to the goddamn giant turtle who’s probably suspicious by now.

It shocks me when the hotel door slams. Did Gabe leave? My response time is too slow. The bathroom door wrenches open.