Page 7 of Hideaway

“You’re welcome,”Cade answered, sliding the still warm coat back over his dress shirt. He was surprised to hear sincerity in his own voice as well.

Fully armored for the chill of a wintery night, Cade led the way to the double doors that barred their exit. He opened them and gestured for Kara. “Ladies first.”

She turned back for a final glance at her beloved sanctuary before leaving the building, perhaps for the last time. Kara jumped as the sound of the heavy doors closing behind her echoed with finality, disrupting the tranquil silence that filled the night air.

“Which key?”Cade called back to her as he retrieved her ring of keys from his pocket.

“The gold one,”Kara answered, not bothering to look back.

The three of them took a moment to peer into the haze of fog that loomed ominously in the distance.

“So, where to Ashford?”Jace asked his boss expectantly, more than ready to get Kara Caine somewhere private where no one would hear her screams.

Cade was met with two questioning pairs of eyes, one full of eager impatience, the other full of resigned dread. With a sigh of futile exasperation, he delivered the decision they both impatiently awaited.

“The Manor.”

Chapter Three

KARA awoke with heavy eyes, stiff limbs, and a tenderness in face that made her wince. She frowned when her fingers fell upon an unfamiliar nightgown that caressed her body with the softest of silks. A nightgown trimmed in delicate lace that barely covered the middle of her breasts or the tops of her thighs.Shedidn’t own anything like that. Suspicious fingers trailed along the bedding that suddenly felt too soft, and her sense of unease grew. She wasn’t inherbed.

Jolting up with a start, Kara surveyed her surroundings as her heart pounded frantically, steadily succumbing to an overwhelming sense of panic. Last night hadn’t been some horrid melodrama concocted by her overly creative subconscious as she slept. It was real. Caden Ashfordwas real.

And the bastard had fuckingkidnappedher.

Kara tried not to think of whose hands had removed her clothes and dressed her naked body in skimpy bits of silk and lace as she searched her body for signs of damage or assault. Apart from the cut on her wrist and the tenderness in her cheek, courtesy of Jace’s assholery, everything seemed to be in good order. She rose from the bed slowly, her senses feeling somewhat hazy and dulled and her mouth unbearably dry. Desperate for escape, she tried to shake the heaviness from her limbs and the fogginess from her mind as she worked to forge a way out of her potentially life-threatening predicament.

Try as she might, Kara could remember nothing beyond walking out of the library with two terrifying men, assuming she was being led to her death. The current alternative seemed preferable, though barely. The only logical explanation for her loss of time between that moment and waking up in the morning was that the bastards had drugged her. She supposed being drugged was a traditional component of the whole kidnapping experience, but the idea of having her consciousness stolen from her infuriated her just the same.

Warily, Kara finally took a moment to observe her surroundings—or rather, her prison. It wasn’t exactly the sort of room you’d expect to be used for housing captives. The bedroom was huge, bursting with bright daylight streaming in from tall windows draped with velvet, dusky-pink curtains. The walls were cream with Regency style decorative panels and crown moldings inlaid with gold. A large gold and crystal chandelier dangled obscenely from the gilded ceiling, granting the room an unmistakable air of decadence and grandeur. It was a room fit for a princess, not a prisoner.

Kara slipped out of the massive bed with its gold tufted headboard, throwing off the heavy cream duvet and discarding a mountain of satin and velvet pillows in various shades of pink. She opened a door at the far end of the room, revealing a large, private bathroom with two freestanding vanities overset with gold filigree mirrors, a claw foot bathtub with a miniature chandelier dangling above, and a walk-in shower big enough to fit three or four people. With a sudden, urgent need to use the toilet, Kara gratefully relieved herself before continuing her explorations. Opening the door beside the bathroom, she gasped in awe when she beheld the walk-in closet as big as her own bedroom back home. Floor to ceiling, the room was stocked with every imaginable item of clothing, accessories, and shoes, and another damn chandelier dangled from the middle of the room over a plush, pink settee.

Kara curiously sifted through drawers along the wall, finding a collection of scarves, sunglasses, hair accessories, and jewelry. She couldn’t resist spending a moment to admire the pretty pieces of jewelry; they were clearly real and very expensive. She played with some of the rings, trying them on for fun, though they were a bit large for her small fingers. Kara paused abruptly when her gaze landed on a beautiful pendant necklace with an E initial crafted entirely of diamonds. She jolted back as though struck, the initial of a someone else’s name painfully dragging her back down to reality. She was in someone else’s room, touching someone else’s things. The woman’s perfume still lingered in the room like a Chanel scented ghost. What terrible end had befallen the woman who came before her? And would she be the next to disappear?

Swallowing her distaste for wearing a stranger’s clothes, Kara searched the rows of beautiful, designer dresses for something practical and casual. She settled upon a simple navy dress that came down to the knees and seemed about her size. When she slipped it on, Kara discovered that the dress wasexactlyher size, as though it had been tailored for her. Was Cade some sort of serial kidnapper, and she just happened to be his preferred flavor of victim? The thought was terrifying and spurred her to get out of that room as quickly as possible. Kara found some flats that would allow her to run if given the opportunity; they were a half size too big, but they worked.

Contemplating escape, Kara tried the windows first; it would be the easiest route without being seen. Though they were unlocked, the view from the frosty, floor-length windows revealed vast grounds that offered seclusion for quite possibly miles. Kara was being held on a higher level which made escape from the window impossible unless she wanted to plummet to her death. Kara searched her surroundings for another way out or some object that would be useful in fleeing or, heaven forbid, fighting. There was nothing, and the most formidable weapon she could find in the whole room was a damn hairbrush.

Summoning her courage, Kara headed for the only viable option for escaping her room: the door. She turned the antique brass knob hesitantly, noticing with dismay that it was an old-fashioned sort of lock that could be accessed from both inside andoutsidewith the use of a skeleton key. To her great astonishment, her door was unlocked, opening onto a long hall with a balcony view of the floor below. Kara stepped out cautiously, seriously confused as to why a prisoner was given free reign of the house. Perhaps it was all just a misunderstanding? Then again, waking up in a stranger’s house with marks of brutality and missing memories of the night before wasn’t exactly the sort of situation that lent itself to misinterpretation. Without a doubt, she had been kidnapped. Now she just had to figure out what exactly her captor wanted from her.

Lost in an unfamiliar maze, Kara searched for the most logical route toward freedom—preferably the front fucking door. She couldn’t help but study the eclectic grandeur of her surroundings as she made her way toward the elaborate double staircase. In contrast with her usual acquaintance with the wealthy estates of donors and patrons of the university, there was nothing minimal or bland or monochromatic about the mansion she was currently being held in. Quite the opposite—there were colors, patterns, and different eras and styles of artwork thrust together in a sort of chaotic cohesiveness. Anything modern or contemporary was absent as though the owner bemoaned the very existence of anything pertaining to the present day. Vivid shades of green and blue colored the walls accented with wainscoting and trimmed with gold-inlaid crown moldings. The selections of art in the forms of paintings, sketches, framed tapestries, and a few scattered sculptures wove together intricately, reverently—like a love letter to pieces of the past. A little less delicate was the ostentatious, gold and crystal chandelier dominating at least half of the airspace above the black and white marble checkered floors of the formal foyer.

Kara’s steps halted when she heard the unmistakable sound of people conversing down the hall. There was the all too familiar accent of her captor, but it was mingled with others that she didn’t recognize. Kara’s pulse quickened with tremblings of excitement. Perhaps Caden Ashford’s guests had a less agreeable view of kidnapping than he so clearly held. Maybe, they could help her escape. It was with that hope clutched firmly to her chest that Kara rushed toward the voices that might be her salvation.

She came upon a formal dining hall, the doors wide open revealing yet another colossal chandelier composed of thousands of long, angular crystal prisms forming multiple rows of concentric circles in descending sizes. Commanding most of the space of the room was a vast, black marble table with thin veins of white streaked throughout and plush, emerald green, velvet chairs that provided space for at least twenty diners. The table was laid with a bountiful, mouth watering spread of breakfast items—pastries, fruits, eggs, sausages, bacon, coffee, and tea. Kara’s stomach rumbled with the realization that she’d skipped lunch at the library yesterday, been deprived of dinner courtesy of her captors, and breakfast was due a few hours ago. With great effort, she pulled her attention away from the food and sought out the intended source of her interest. Other people. Escape.

To her great reluctance, Kara’s eyes immediately settled upon Cade at the head of the table; he held her gaze with an indescribable expression—perhaps irritation and amusement mingled with something darker—before his features morphed into the very picture of gentlemanly politeness.

“Miss Caine. I’m glad you could join us,”Cade greeted amicably, his hand outstretched as he welcomed her to an open spot at the table.

Breaking his stare, Kara glanced about the table. There were six men in total. Not a woman in sight, no one who could be theEwhose dress she currently wore. Her absence sent a chill down Kara’s spine. Was she wearing the gown of a woman who had already met her fate at Cade’s hands? She suddenly had the urge to rip the exquisite clothing from her body and throw it as far away from her as she possibly could. Whatever Cade’s sinister intentions may be, Kara would try her damnedest to make it out of that house alive.

Kara recognized three of the men from the previous night: the aggressive brute who backhanded her and tore her favorite dress, the kid who couldn’t be any older than one of her students, and, of course, Cade. One of the other men looked mildly familiar, but she couldn’t place where she had seen him. He was older, maybe late fifties, with gray hair, cold dark eyes, an unnerving smile that seemed too contrived, and a perfectly tailored, navy suit that emulated wealth and power as much as an article of clothing could. The older man eyed Kara with polite distaste, as though she had interrupted something far more deserving of his time. And perhaps she had.

One of the others—about her age with a slim build, unruly curly hair, and soft grey eyes framed by dark rimmed glasses—looked notedly uncomfortable, his gaze shifting between Cade and Kara, but he said nothing. The sight of the last man caused Kara to shrink back subconsciously, as though her body had assessed an undisclosed threat and warned her to seek out safety. The man was huge, dwarfing every other person at the table, the confines of his black jacket doing nothing to conceal the sheer amount of muscle that covered what seemed to be every inch of his body. The beauty of his tan skin and warm brown eyes did nothing to soften his threatening appearance; he looked as though he could quite literally snap her in two. Thankfully, of all the men at the table, he seemed the least interested in her, paying her a brief glance before turning his attention back to his coffee. Coffee that smelled deliciously enticing, causing Kara to frown with envy.

After sizing up the occupants of the room, Kara turned her attention back to Cade, who was patiently awaiting her response, his eyes still locked on her.“I wasn’t aware I had a choice in the matter, Mr. Ashford, as you’ve taken me hostage and kept me here against my will.”Kara looked around to gauge the reaction to her words, which should have been truly startling amongst normal company. The man in glasses squirmed uncomfortably in his seat, refusing to meet her eyes. Everyone else at the table seemed generally unbothered by her accusation. That bastard, Jace, even had the nerve to chuckle lightly from his spot near the head of the table. Cade watched gleefully as panic began to settle into Kara’s features, a cruel smile upon his lips.

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