Chapter 10
There’s a dull ache in my shoulders, which my brain tells me is from the busy day I had yesterday setting up equipment for the band.
But as I come to slowly, I realise I can’t move my arms or my legs, and I’m not in my hotel room.
I blink in the grey light filtering through the curtains.
Where the hell am I? As I struggle to sit up and see what’s restraining me, a slim hand with pearly pink nails is laid flat on my stomach.
‘Lie still,’ says a husky voice that sends a frisson of fear to my gut.
Chest tightening in alarm, slowly, I turn my head to meet a pair of arctic-blue eyes. Fuck, it’s Sadie, the crazed fan from last night. She’s lying stretched out next to me in a pink T-shirt and black skirt. Her head is propped on her hand, and she’s surveying me coolly.
Panicked thoughts start flooding my brain. Oh no, I’m still here at her flat! It wasn’t a bad dream that she kidnapped me! Thank God my clothes are still on!
Sadie gives me a carefree smile, as if it’s completely normal to have kidnapped someone and tied them to their bed overnight. She lifts her hand from my stomach and waggles her fingers at me.
‘Morning, sleepyhead.’
Declining to reply, I yank at the arm restraints. Twisting my head, I can see my wrists against the bedposts. There’s nothing there, yet I’m held tight. How can that be? See-through plastic or something?
‘What the hell are you doing?’ I croak. ‘Let me go. I’ve got to get to the hotel. We’re driving to Leeds this morning.’
Sadie casually looks at her watch. ‘It’s coming up on nine. I think they’ve probably left without you by now.’
I blink at her. My brain is now starting to comprehend how fucked I am. No one knows I’m here.
‘The band will tell the police I’m missing. I’m an important member of the crew ...’ I gabble. ‘They’ll be out looking for me.’
‘Hmm, will they, Elliott Blythe?’ she purrs, raking her gaze down my chest. Something about her voice is seriously sexy, and I feel my dick stirring in my jeans, which shocks me.
Surely, I’m not attracted to my kidnapper.
That’s mad. I’ve been kidnapped for one night, and already I’ve got Stockholm syndrome!
‘I phoned your hotel first thing this morning and asked to speak to the band manager, Mick,’ she continues. ‘Gosh, was he grumpy! Certainly not a ray of sunshine at 7 a.m.’
‘How do you know my name and where I’m staying?’ I ask suspiciously.
She shrugs. ‘Not hard. There was a name badge and a folder with your itinerary in the van. Anyway, back to Mick. He was even grumpier when I said you weren’t going to be able to continue with the tour because you had a raging case of genital herpes.
You were too ashamed to tell him yourself or face the band.
So you’d caught a flight back to London last night and asked your mother to phone him. ’
My mouth falls open. ‘My mother!’
She hits my arm playfully and giggles. ‘It wasn’t your real mother, silly. It was me pretending to be her. You don’t want your mother knowing something like that!’
I shake my head in confusion. ‘So they’re not looking for me?’
‘No, but you’ll get paid up until Christmas. He wasn’t too happy about your behaviour.’ She wags a finger at me and clicks her tongue. ‘Naughty Elliott, you’re not meant to sleep with the fans. Now you’re on a course of antivirals.’
‘But I didn’t sleep with anyone!’ I cry, yanking uselessly at the restraints. ‘And I don’t have herpes! You’re a sick and twisted woman. You’ve cost me the best job of my life. I’m Duran Duran’s roadie, for fuck’s sake.’
Sadie lifts an eyebrow. ‘Not anymore, I’m afraid. Now you’re working for us.’
While I’m gazing at her with my jaw slack, Sadie says the exact specifications of what this job entails will be explained to me after I’ve had a shower and some breakfast. Somehow, I’m released from the bed, and my legs march promptly into the bathroom.
A clean towel is thrust at me, the door is closed and locked, and I’m left to my own devices.
After checking that there’s no window from which to escape, I sink onto the toilet seat and bury my head in my hands. Fuuuuuck, I’m in a big pickle.
But after a few minutes of wigging out, my pragmatic side kicks in.
First, I don’t think Sadie is going to murder me, which is a huge relief.
Second, I think she’s given me a strong drug that is making me more inclined to do what she says.
Third, I’ve got the skills to cope with this exact situation.
There’s a reason why I was hired to make sure Duran Duran’s live concerts run smoothly: I can problem-solve and keep my cool under pressure, I’m physically strong, and I have excellent mental endurance.
All I have to do is go along with what she says for the moment, keep my wits about me, and wait for an opportunity to make a break for it. It shouldn’t be too difficult. Easier than fixing a sound system failure mid-performance anyway.
Feeling a bit better now that I have a plan, I gulp some water from the bathroom tap, take a piss, and hop into the shower. All going well, I’ll be out of here in a few hours and on the road to Leeds. The boys are going to laugh their heads off when they hear about this!
After I’ve washed and dressed in the same clothes I was wearing yesterday, I knock on the door.
It opens immediately, but there’s no one behind it, which is a bit strange.
Before I have a chance to think, I’m propelled out of the bathroom.
Despite me struggling to go left towards the front door (which I can see right there!), I’m forced right and into a comfortably furnished, but dimly lit lounge.
It’s a basement flat and winter, so there’s not much daylight at all.
I squint, and the main light switches on. Ah, that’s better.
Now I can see a woman with red hair tied up in a ponytail lying on a cream couch.
An open book is propped up on her knees.
Sitting on the arm of the couch is the brunette who answered the door last night.
They’re both strikingly pretty, but my gaze lands on Sadie, who’s leaning on the windowsill.
Her small pink T-shirt is tight around her breasts, and I can tell she’s not wearing a bra as her nipples are clearly defined.
And her black skirt is more of a belt, showing off bare legs that resemble smooth ivory.
They’re crossed at the ankles, which taper into delicate arched feet with pink toes.
I gulp, feeling that tug of attraction in my groin again.
She’s obviously insane, more’s the pity, but she’s super hot too.
Everyone is looking at me.
‘Hi, Elliott,’ Sadie drawls. ‘How was your ... shower?’
Her sultry voice makes it sound like I was wanking off in there or something.
‘Fine,’ I say gruffly, determined not to blush in front of her. ‘You mentioned something about breakfast?’
‘As promised.’ She nods to a side nook, where there’s a table set with a plate and spoon, a box of cornflakes, a jug of milk, and a banana. Basic, but it’s food, I guess. And it will help me think clearly and logically.
I shovel cereal into my mouth and chew rapidly, glancing at the two girls on the couch, who haven’t spoken yet.
But the brunette is staring at me curiously, as if she hasn’t seen a man before.
She seems a bit odd. And really pale, like she doesn’t go outside much.
The red-headed girl, with the long ponytail, is reading and acting like I don’t exist.
‘Hi, I’m Elliott. We met last night?’ I address the brunette politely. Maybe if I get to know her, she can help me escape. She seemed shocked at seeing me at the front door.
The girl nods. ‘We did. Nice to see you again.’
‘Yes, sorry,’ says Sadie. ‘These are my flatmates, Floss and Hester.’ She nods at each in turn.
‘I’ve filled them in on the details, and we had a flat meeting about it last night.
We all agree.’ Her eyes slide to the redhead, whose lips are pursed.
‘Well, Hester was a little resistant at first, but she’s come round to my way of thinking.
So the upshot is you’re going to be staying here with us for a while. Until we get things set up anyway.’
I almost choke on my mouthful of half-chewed cereal. They’re all fucking crazy! Then remember I need to stay cool and calm about this and obtain as much information as possible—for the police.
‘Right,’ I say. ‘So are you going to tell me what this job is?’
Sadie gnaws at her bottom lip, and a flash of unease crosses her face. It’s the first time I’ve seen her look rattled.
‘It’s ... er ... a humanitarian position.’
‘Humanitarian? I don’t get it.’
Sadie rolls her eyes. ‘We need blood, OK? A regular supply. And you’re going to get it for us.’
I blink, looking round at them. ‘B-blood?’ I stutter. Blood is not good. Blood equates to murder.
‘Yes,’ says Sadie impatiently. ‘To drink.’
My physical reaction to this statement—namely heart pounding and palms sweating—seems to be causing extreme interest amongst everyone. All three are now leaning forward slightly, noses raised, and their eyes are focused solely on my neck.
I think I’m in deep shit.