Page 27 of Captive

I open my mouth to protest but nothing comes out. I sit forward. "Look, I just need to know she'ssafe."

Clark's mouth pullstight.

"You don't even know that, do you? You can't even assure me that she's all right because you don't fuckingknow."

"Enough, Maddox." Clark slams his hand on the desk, sending several loose papers off the top of a pile to the floor. His nostrils are wide with anger, but there's regret there too. He knows he sent her into something dangerous, and he knows the whole fucking thing could backfire at anytime.

"Does it have to do with those dead rich guys? That secretsociety?"

Clark lowers his voice to an icy cold temperature. "You need to stop asking. Drop this now, Maddox, or I will put you on suspension fordisobedience."

I kick the back of his desk. "Fuck that. Suspend methen."

"Your persistence in finding her is only going to make it more dangerous for Tennyson. Leave. It.Alone."

A rancid smell precedes footsteps into the office. "Clark, glad I found you. She'sin."

The two word statement causes Clark's face to smooth likestone.

I turn around in the chair. Olson pales beneath the street grime on his face. "Maddox, I didn't know it wasyou."

"Guess that answers my question about who 'she' is." I cast a questioning look atClark.

His nostrils are less flare-y, but he's still plenty mad. "If there's nothing else, Maddox, I think your new partner is waiting for you. And close the door on your way out. I need to meet withOlson."

I stare at him long and hard before rising from the chair. I look Olson up and down before walking out and swinging the door shut behind me. I've been ferreting out all the snitches Ten and I have in the city when all the time Detective Olson was the guy with the goods. And once I had him alone, I was going to find out what heknew.

19

Angie

Iwake with a start.As my bleary gaze takes in my surroundings adrenaline jolts through me and I sit up. But I quickly collapse back against the cloud of pillows behind me. I touch the fabric on my stomach. I'm still wearing the silky sundress given to me at the party. The bodice is fastened now but a momentary warmth floods through me as I think back to fingers opening the buttons and pushing the straps off my shoulders. I open my eyes slowly this time so as not to freak myself out. I'm in a vast and lushly appointed bedroom. The four poster bed where my aching head and body are being cradled by a soft, inviting quilt and pillows is of a sleek modern design. White, gossamer netting hangs from the canopy frame over the bed. My eyes are drawn to silver rings, a pair of which have been bolted near the top of each bedpost. I can only assume they help hold the netting in various positions to keep out morning light. That's when it occurs to me that while there are plenty of light fixtures in the room, there are no windows, only several recesses in the walls to allow for storage of unusual pieces of furniture, including an odd looking chair that reminds me of something you'd find in a gym and a short couch that is shaped like a wedge. One nook is empty save for four silver rings, larger than the ones on the bed, at each of the four corners of the closet sized opening. An orange chaise and mahogany dresser take up one corner of the room. A chrome vanity sits against a wall with a plush orange stool sitting in front of it. There are three doors. I assume one is a bathroom and one a closet but then my head is hardly clear enough to make any reasonableassumptions.

I close my eyes again hoping to sleep away the grogginess in my head. I'm close to slipping into a blissful sleep when a shadow falls over the bed. My eyes pop open. A pleasant round face with unusual purple eyes is smiling down atme.

"You're awake. Thought you might sleep forever." The youngish man is dressed in a skin tight white t-shirt and well fitted black trousers. His dark hair is shaved close to his head and he has a silver stud in each ear. He moves gracefully and feminine, like a classically trained ballerina. The eyes seem to get their purple color from contacts. "Come, come, darlin', we need you up andready."

"Who are you?" My voice is scratchy like my throat is filled withgravel.

"I'm Blake, your personal lady-in-waiting." He curtsies and pretends to hold out the ends of a dress. He turns to the dark mahogany nightstand and pours me a glass of water from a crystal pitcher. "That frog voice won't do atall."

I have difficulty sitting up. Blake lowers his hand for me to take. His palm is smooth, no working callous. He pulls me up to sitting. I brace my hands on the bed to steady myself before taking the glass of water. I greedily gulp it down like a woman who's been wandering the desert without acanteen.

"Where am I? And more importantly, how the heck did I gethere?"

"You are in your room or the room that's been chosen for you. It's the nicest one, which makes sense since you're going to be his." Blake refills the glass and hands it back to me. "As for how you got here, what's the last thing youremember?"

I'm still trying to sort out what he's talking about when he tosses the question at me. My head aches just enough to make it hard to recall. I rub my forehead in a pathetic attempt to stop the pain. Blake reaches to the drawer in the nightstand and pulls out a bottle of aspirin. He shakes two onto his smooth, clean palm and hands them tome.

"Aspirin," I say with relief. "Wait. Aspirin. I remember Rowan handing me two pills. He told me they were aspirin for the headache. I was still blindfolded so I couldn't see what he gave me. But I swallowed the pills. I remember getting woozy and my knees giving way. I think I landed in Rowan's arms. I don't remember anything else until a few minutes ago when I opened my eyes in thisroom."

"That's about right. Mr. Freestone takes every precaution to make sure this place remains impossible to find. By the way, those are the real deal. Aspirin, Imean."

I swallow the tablets and survey the windowless room. The temperature is just right, not too warm or too cold. Even the humidity is perfect. I need to act completely clueless. I am fairly certain I know the answer to the next question but I ask it anyhow. "Why aren't there any windows in thisroom?"

Blake laughs. "You wouldn't see much if there were. This is a subterraneancomplex."

"So we're underground." That fact, now confirmed, makes me shudder inwardly. I wonder if there's a term for being undercover and literally underground. It's like vanishing without a trace. I am on my own. I have to go along with the whole damn game or risk revealing myself. Aside from being drugged and transported to the secret location, nothing else seems the least bit sinister, including my 'lady-in-waiting' who looks anxious to get started on his duties. Whatever those mightbe.

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