Chapter 5 #2
Across the room, an L-shaped couch wraps around the corner of the room.
Conveniently placed tables sit around it, along with a few footstools.
An embarrassing gasp escapes his throat as his eyes land on the windows.
Though Kate mentioned she worked all day, it still appears to be light outside.
Wherever this apartment of hers is, a deep, dense green forest surrounds it.
Pine and fir trees fill two of the three windows.
Outside the third, a rugged peak climbs to the sky in the distance.
“Beautiful, isn’t it?” she muses, her soft voice drifting toward him from behind.
James staggers back. Where this could be? Canada? Russia, depending on how long he was out. Where has she taken him? And why haven’t his memories come back yet? His head feels clearer by the minute.
“I know. This is one of my favorites. I’m glad you like it too.” She stares dreamily at the scene in the window. “Tomorrow we’ll try a different scene.”
“You mean go somewhere else? Do you have a private plane too, Air Control Officer Kate?” He means it sarcastically, but she doesn’t seem to take it that way.
“No, silly. They’re particle panes, though I’m surprised you don’t know this. The literature says you’re supposed to come equipped with a certain base knowledge of the world.”
It takes no slight effort to tear his eyes away from the scene in the windows.
Escaping this woman is becoming more daunting with each passing minute.
“Jesus!” His eyes land on the pale pink floor-length gown she wears.
A completely sheer gauzy material drapes across her languid curves.
Her barely concealed, dusky pink nipples beg for his attention.
Against his better judgment, he obliges, fixing his gaze to her perky breasts.
He tries to tear it away. He really does.
Once he notices her strange tattoo, it’s easier.
Iridescent pink and red scales that complement her auburn hair peek out over her shoulders and sides.
Seeing where his eyes have traveled, she spins, lifting her hair so he can take in the artwork adorning her body. “Dragon scales,” she offers. “To honor my ancestry.”
The tattoo runs from the top of her spine to its base, with only wisps reaching toward her front.
Otherwise, her body is perfectly unmarred.
A delicate thong and an equally delicate pair of high-heeled sandals are the only other clothing she wears.
James tries, but he can’t spot a single imperfection as she turns toward him.
“This is too fucking surreal,” he mutters.
“I’m pleased to see the clothes I got for you fit. Tomorrow we can go shopping for some additional pieces.” She runs a hand possessively down his chest. “I want you to be as comfortable as possible.”
If she wanted him to be comfortable, then she’d have provided him with a suit, like he’s used to wearing.
The thought triggers a memory of him standing at the head of a table in a boardroom.
He’s saying something about combating rising operating expenses on a portfolio of multifamily assets.
On the wall opposite him there’s a logo for a company called Tiger Capital.
Does this mean he was a businessman—a developer?
The group in the room nod eagerly, as if they agree with his strategy.
“Ready?” she asks, interrupting his memory. She walks toward the door as if she expects him to readily comply.
Letting her take him out of her apartment is a gamble.
He might get the chance to run, which would put him closer to finding a phone since he can’t see anything that resembles a telecommunications device in her apartment, but she might have armed guards right outside the door.
Better to stall and try to get more information.
“But . . . you can’t go out in that. I can see your .
. .” He waves his hands in the general direction of her chest.
She hesitates for a moment, seeming unsure, before smiling coyly. “I’m pleased you like them. You can touch if you like. That is why I bought you.”
Before he knows what is happening, her hand wraps around his and she’s lifting it to her chest. James jerks his hand away so fast, the woman startles, stepping back. “You bought me to touch your—breasts?” He covers his face, massaging his eyelids. “This can’t be happening.”
“You don’t wish to touch me?” Her eyes widen.
“No, I don’t wish to touch you.” That isn’t entirely true.
Her breasts are very nice, and he is typically down for a casual fuck.
Well, he was before he turned thirty-five and decided to stop fooling around so he could find a wife.
For her, however, he might have bent that rule.
But no, this is against his will. A slimy sensation slithers down his spine, eliciting a shiver.
Suddenly, he’s a little more defensive of women everywhere.
But surely he’s never been the type of sick fuck to cause a woman a sensation like that.
The revelation causes him to grimace, an expression he directs at his captor.
“Someone abducted me, brought me to this strange place,” he points to the window, “and sold me to you. I only have vague memories of who I am, which tells me whatever they drugged me with is still in my system. What do you want from me?”
“I . . .” she hesitates, cocking her head to the side. “I don’t know what you mean. Is this some sort of game?”
“I’ve been in your unit for half an hour.
I have no recollection of how I got here.
I’m wearing this strange outfit. You’ve offered to let me fondle you.
And now you want to go to dinner to role-play or something and do all of this in the middle of goddamned nowhere!
What do you want from me?!” Losing his temper like this is uncharacteristic of him, but his patience is dwindling.
She lifts her hand and covers her open mouth.
Her eyes shift from bright and interested to glassy in the span of a few words.
“I want . . .” She hesitates as she steps back.
Tension hangs in the space between them as he waits for her to reply.
Instead of finishing her sentence, her stare takes on a faraway quality, like she’s lost in some internal world.
“Listen. I don’t mean to upset you,” he says, placating her as alarm bells sound in his mind.
Something about this feels off. Very off.
Disturbingly off. It feels almost like a negotiation, and he understands he needs to coax this woman into telling him what she knows, then figure out how to get to a phone.
“Please, just tell me how I came to be here. I can assure you that however it happened, I wasn’t a willing participant.
” She doesn’t speak, so James presses. “Are there more people outside this door?”
She glances at the door opposite the windows, which he assumes leads to a hallway outside her apartment. Her voice is thin with fatigue as she says, “Of course there are more people out there. It’s Minneapolis–Saint Paul. There are people everywhere.”
He’s fairly sure there aren’t any evergreen forests anywhere near the Twin Cities. She’s lying. He tries another angle. “Who sold me to you?”
At this, a single tear rolls down her cheek.
“The people at GROW, obviously. I knew this was a bad idea.” As she shakes her head, disappointment rolls off her in waves.
Acquiring abducted people usually is a poor life choice, so he doesn’t feel too bad.
She mutters under her breath something that sounds like, “Probably should have read the fine print.”
A second later, she’s seated at her desk and has two of the six screens illuminated. Her fingers fly over the keyboard as she intently reads the screen. Five minutes pass by in silence before his frustration gets the better of him.
Noticing her chair is on rollers, he hooks his hand over the back of it, tugging her backward, intending to make her face him, but something on the screen catches his eye.
Loneliness got you down? Struggling to find real connection in the modern age? GROW your own manupartner today! Love has never been easier.
Manupartner. There’s that word again. James jerks his chin in the screen’s direction. “What the fuck is that?”
“You say that word a lot,” she observes, frowning.
“I’m very fucking frustrated and more than a little confused.
” Not to mention a little frightened—not that he would share that.
“You would be too if you were abducted and thrown into this weird parallel universe with a disturbingly hot yet clueless chick who refuses to give you any answers. Who acts as if they’re the only one being slighted here.
Didn’t get what you bargained for? Well, I certainly—”
She lifts a single digit, silencing him. “Let me think.” Her eyes go distant again.
Fine. He’ll think, too. Manupartner. Does that mean what he thinks it does? Somehow that little scale thing he was standing on, which electrocuted him, should have brainwashed him into becoming some sort of lover for this woman? And now she’s upset that it hasn’t worked?
Another five minutes pass before she rises from her seat.
Kicking off her heels, she pads to an adjacent room.
James follows her into a small kitchen. She reaches inside an odd-looking refrigerator and pulls out a dark glass bottle.
She twists the cap off and tosses it into a waste bin, then takes several large gulps and offers it to him.
“Don’t worry. The bottles are sterilized then refilled. Vine?”
Why would he care if she recycles? When he doesn’t immediately take the bottle from her, she opens a cabinet and fishes out two glasses.
After pouring them each a healthy serving, she sets his glass on the counter before him.
She returns to the living area, unceremoniously dropping onto the couch, breasts still on full display.
Reluctantly, he picks up the glass and follows, taking a seat opposite her, because at this point, he has more questions than answers.
Kate breaks the silence, saying, “There’s something wrong with you. They’ve been tinkering with the process, but you seem to be an unintended result.”
Repressing an indignant huff takes considerable restraint. As if he is the one with something wrong with him. He sucks a breath in through his nose, releasing it slowly. Play the long game. You don’t know what is waiting outside for you.
He should take a sip, but he’s wary of the deep red liquid. She seems willing to talk now. He can coax out a little more information. Maybe with another glass of—what’d she say, Vine?—she’ll be more pliable. “An unintended result of what?”
“The tinkering,” she says, as if James is the idiot. She takes a sip as he watches her intently. “It’s not poisoned, if that’s what you’re thinking.”
“Clearly, I was drugged, considering I don’t know how I got here.”
She rolls her eyes. “No one drugged you.” As if to make her point, she reaches forward—never mind the view it gives him—and takes his glass.
She takes a demonstrative sip, swallowing the liquid before placing the glass back before him.
When she leans back, her shoulders hunch.
It is clear she’s just as exasperated as he is.
It’s his turn to frown as he picks up his probably-not-drugged Vine. Like her, he could use a drink. Just a little something to take the edge off. The thick red liquid goes down with a burn. James has to unscrew his face from the pinch the tart drink creates. “Please elaborate on the tinkering.”
“You think someone’s abducted you. You think you have a name already. There’s something wrong with your nose. And you have wrinkles. And you’re talking back. And you don’t want to touch my breasts. Shall I go on?” She lets out something between a gasp and a sob as if this is all her bad luck.
“I broke my nose boxing when I was seventeen. As far as the wrinkles go, that’s what happens when you’re in your mid-thirties, sweetheart.
” She scoffs at this, but he continues. “I’m talking back because that’s my prerogative, and my parents gave me the only name I’ve ever had.
I already addressed the abduction. Shall I go on? ”
A sheepish grin lights up her pretty features. “You didn’t address my breasts.”
“While your breasts look very touchable, I’m not going to because this is insane. Furthermore, I would appreciate it if you would go put on some appropriate clothing.”
Kate’s eyes narrow as if she’s picked up something from their exchange that she can use for leverage. James almost releases an audible groan as she says, “No. I don’t think I will.”
He sighs, refusing to take another glance at them, no matter how tempting. “Very well.”
She takes another sip, emptying her glass. “I have a hypothesis.”
“Enlighten me.” He shakes his head, wondering if he’d be better off running for the door now that she’s relaxed than listening to whatever her hypothesis is.
“See, I’m a scientist.”
He almost chokes on his Vine. An air control officer is a scientist?
So not a flight attendant. It’s enough to convince him he’s in an alternate reality.
Or a dream. No, this feels too real. He eyes the door, inching forward in his seat.
Hoping she won’t notice. Being a scientist means she’s probably smart and calculating.
Unless she’s lying about being a scientist.
Kate continues. “To prove theories, scientists ask questions. So, if you’ll allow, I’m going to ask you a series of questions.”
James takes a deep breath, nodding. Okay, this is a path forward, and he doesn’t feel like he is in immediate danger.
Sure, he can try to flee from this apartment, but how far will he get?
Will anyone outside speak English or come to his aid?
That can be Plan B if the next thing that comes out of her mouth is utter nonsense.
“Go on,” he instructs her.
“What year is it?”
He blinks. “Twenty thirty-five.”
She nods. “Where do you live?”
“New York City.” She’s hitting him with straightforward questions to test his sanity. Good so far. He takes a sip of the red liquid that is growing on him with each taste.
“How did you die?”
He spits the Vine across the room. “What did you say?”
Kate repeats the question as if it’s innocuous. “How did you die?”