Chapter 7 Kaylor
KAYLOR
God, what is taking Kreed so long?
Each hour, each day that passed, my restlessness grew. I started to doubt my belief in Kreed. Was I putting too much faith in him? Maybe none of what we experienced was real, at least for him. What if he didn’t care about finding me?
Was this what Kenny felt when she was here, thinking each day might be the day someone came to break her out? Only to wonder if anyone would actually show?
Those ugly doubts kept coming, piling one on top of the other, and I could see how someone could easily be broken in a place like this. Perhaps the isolation tactic was a means to break my spirit, to get me to second-guess whether I could be saved or was worth saving.
I needed to talk to Kreed. To Brock. To someone in the outside world or I’d go fucking crazy just waiting. I hardly had patience on a good day, but on a bad…forget it. Those traits were toast.
It became clear that I had to get my hands on a phone or a computer, some kind of device where I could send a message.
The one Rusty sent to Kreed might not have been enough, assuming Rusty sent it at all.
It could have just been a mindfuck game for me, making me think there was a sliver of hope, only to extinguish it and crush my soul.
My only real chance was to get close to the guards.
If they worked for Rusty, there was a good chance they could be Vipers or associated with my father’s crew, which meant they would know me.
I needed to use this to my advantage. I needed to stop thinking like a victim, like a damsel in distress, and start thinking like a survivor.
I’d been watching him for hours through the crack beneath my door, memorizing the rhythm of his footsteps.
It wasn’t the most comfortable position, having my head plastered to the hard floor, my eyes straining to keep him in sight.
I nearly went cross-eyed after thirty minutes, but I endured, forcing myself to keep track of his movements.
The guard had shaggy blond hair and a rather thin build. My awkward angle made it difficult to get a clear picture of him. Not that it mattered. It was his phone I cared about. The device lit up every few minutes, making him stop mid-stride, his thumb swiping across the screen.
I pressed my ear to the floor, waiting for the perfect moment.
Something seemed to be happening for his phone to be going off so much more than usual.
“Hey,” the guard at the bottom of the stairs hollered up at his partner, the shaggy blond.
Holding my breath, I strained to hear what he would say. “I’m needed at the gate.”
“Is everything okay?” the blond guard at the top of the stairs asked.
“I’m sure it’s nothing. Stay here. No one comes or goes.”
Blondie hooked his fingers into his belt loops. “I got it.”
This was it. The opportunity I’d been waiting for.
Staying put a full minute to give the other guard ample time to leave his post, I stood and lifted my hand, rapping against the inside of the door, three knocks loud enough to get the guard’s attention.
Hopefully. This could very well backfire, and I should be scared, and I was, but anger also lived in my veins, making me braver than I should be.
“Hello?” I called, letting my voice crack slightly, adding just the right tremor of distress. “I-I think something’s wrong. Hello!” I called again, louder this time, my fist pounding on the door in another series of raps. I waited a beat, listening.
The guard grumbled under his breath as his boots shuffled against the floor, keys jingling as he fumbled for the right one.
I stepped back, and the door swung open.
Blondie stepped onto the threshold, acute hazel eyes narrowing as he scanned the room.
“I don’t see anything. What’s the matter?
” The words came out flat, bored, as if I’d interrupted him doing something meaningful.
I kept my eyes downcast but not completely closed, shoulders slumped in defeated submission, lips parted just slightly in a soft, helpless way.
“I just...” I trailed off, wrapping my arms around my midsection and bending slightly forward.
“I feel sick. Really sick. Can you get someone? A doctor, maybe? Or at least let me out for some fresh air?”
“What do you think this is? The Four Seasons? Unless you’re bleeding or vomiting, you’re not leaving this room, sugar.”
I really hated nicknames unless it was little raven, menace, my little kitten, or killer kay. I’d give anything to hear one of those.
Weighing my options, I considered which would likely get me out of the room faster. Blood or puke. Neither were particularly appealing, but I guessed that was the point. I went for the easiest route given the circumstances.
I started gagging.
It wasn’t all that difficult to trigger my gag reflex.
I was already sick to my stomach. “I think I’m going to be sick.
” I heaved a few more times for dramatic effect while also doing my best not to actually lose what little food I had in me, but if it came down to it, I’d happily blow chunks all over this guard.
He stared at me for a long moment, his hazel eyes moving from my face to my posture to the way I was holding myself. I could practically see the gears turning in his head, part suspicion, part consideration, part something darker inciting my skin to crawl. “You better not be fucking with me.”
I shook my head, swallowing the acid bile coating the back of my throat. “Do I look like I’m kidding?”
“I can think of a few things that might make you feel better.” He smirked, and I fought the urge to wipe that expression off his face with my fingernails.
Creepy jackass.
But maybe I could use his evident interest to my benefit.
I gave him a look under hooded lashes. “The cameras,” I whispered, my eyes carefully sliding to the side without moving my head.
His gaze lifted to the corner of the room to where I knew the red blinking light continued to flash, day in and day out. The damn thing never turned off.
“Five minutes,” he finally relented, carrying the magnanimous tone of someone granting a favor they didn’t have to give. “Just in the hall, and don’t try anything stupid, or you’ll spend the next week in restraints, which will be more enjoyable for me than you.”
Perhaps I’d hurl all over him after all.
He stepped closer, his hand reaching for my upper arm as his fingers closed around my biceps, not gently but not brutally either, and guided me out of the room into the hallway.
“What’s your name?” I asked to distract him.
His fingers pressed harder into my arm. “Why do you want to know?”
“So I know what to scream when you’re making me come.” Gross. I can’t believe that actually came out of my mouth—no pun intended.
The dark glint of interest I thought I saw in his eyes flared. There was no mistaking it. “Oh, you’re one of the freaky ones.”
Hardly. I nearly snorted.
His grip loosened slightly as we walked, his attention clearly moving to his dick.
The more he thought with that head instead of the one between his ears, the more distracted he was, right where I wanted him.
I just had to make sure this didn’t get out of control, or I would regret this dangerous game I decided to play.
“Are you going to tell me your name or make me guess?”
“I thought you were sick,” he countered, eyes narrowing.
That’s when I saw my opportunity, a shadowy alcove near the stairwell where the overhead light had burned out, creating a pool of darkness perfect for concealment.
As we passed, I moved, forcing my feet to trip over each other, which turned out to be easily executed, my body not precisely at full strength.
I made sure to tumble into the guard, and as I bumped into him, my hand shot out, fingers closing around the phone clipped to his hip.
The device came free with ease, and I shoved it into the waistband of my pants in one fluid motion.
His fingers landed on my arms, gripping them to keep us both from tumbling over. “Hey—”
“I tripped,” I blurted out, cutting him off as I stumbled against the wall, my shoulder stinging. I let my knees buckle slightly, selling the performance while my pulse raced. “Sorry, I’m still feeling dizzy.”
He didn’t question it. Men like him never expected intelligence wrapped in a package they’d been taught to see as helpless. “You’re lucky I’m being nice about this,” he muttered, his eyes raking over my body as he moved in, trapping me against the wall.
The game was up. I got what I needed, and now I had to find a way to get back to my room without being taken advantage of. I had a plan for that as well. It should be fun…for me. The guard…not so much.
He grabbed my hands, pressing them to the wall as he imprisoned me with his body.
He was too close, the scent of his cologne churning my already unsettled stomach.
“Don’t get all weak on me now.” His breath was hot on the side of my face.
So much for them not touching the girls.
I had a gross feeling this wasn’t the first time blondie had gotten friendly with the wards.
Pressing my palms on his chest, I pushed at him. “I think I should go back to my room.”
“Don’t worry, this won’t take long.” He reached for his pants, wrestling with the button while his other hand still pinned one of my wrists.
I just fucking bet. Neither will this. I let the vile I’d been suppressing come roaring to the surface, and everything I’d managed to force down my throat today came up, all over the front of his pathetic ass.
As I hoped, disgust descended onto his features as he jerked back away from me, but it was too late; the front of his shirt was soaked with vomit. “You little bitch.”
I wiped my mouth with the back of my hand. “I told you I was sick.”
He didn’t look like he wanted to hear it; he also wasn’t looking at me like something he wanted to stick his dick into anymore, so…definite win.