6. Odell
SIX
ODELL
“No, you sit. I can do this.”
He sounded like a kid, telling his parents or older siblings he was a big boy. “I do it myself.” I could hear it in my head while imagining him as a toddler.
“Food first and then we can talk,” he said.
He read the instructions on the instant rice and stuck it in the microwave before opening a can of beans. But I’d lost interest in wondering if he could manage a microwave because I desperately needed to pee.
He said there was a bathroom and had pointed it out. But the door was closed. We were how many feet underground? It might stink. Ewww!
I crossed and uncrossed my legs, and grimaced. The microwave whirred in the background as I wriggled my butt and tried to think of something other than needing to use the bathroom.
He frowned, and I straightened and stilled. He might think I was planning my escape, but I was aware there was no getting out of here unless he gave me permission and unlocked the door.
In an attempt to take my mind off not venturing to the bathroom, I posed a question. “Do you come here often?” As soon as I said it, I regretted it and wished I could swallow those words.
“Into the panic room?”
I processed what he’d said and weighed whether he brought me here to keep Draven away from me. A panic room was a safe haven. Or was it his hidey hole where he kept his victims?
But nothing about him said he was going to torture me or use me as a sex slave. I sensed he was speaking the truth about protecting me. And from the interaction I’d had with Draven, he wasn’t someone I wanted to be around. Besides, he’d forced Uncle into a deal that involved handing me over to him.
“I did a bad thing.”
Damn! Fear prickled over me. My emotions swung back to my earlier belief: he didn’t give shit about my safety, and I’d been passed from one bad guy to another. I’d misjudged him, and yet… he was caring and wanted to feed me, and he was no friend of Draven. The other emotion, the one that kind of liked him, I pushed deep down ‘cause that was wrong.
“ Other than the people who built this panic room, no one but me is aware of its location, the size, or that it’s been completed.”
“Is that all?” My life was in freefall and he was worried a building inspector would tell him he’d been a very naughty boy. Though how all of this had been created without anyone knowing was beyond me. It was ironic that I’d panicked in a panic room.
“My brothers have their own jobs and they both have families. I’d mentioned in passing that I was having work done at the club, and most of the work was conducted during the day when the club was closed.”
“They must trust you.”
He sported a warm gooey expression. It must be nice to have siblings who had faith in you. “Maybe. As kids, they didn’t or my oldest brother didn’t. He might be peeved that I went ahead with the construction before I got the planning permission.”
He pulled the rice out of the microwave and screwed his face up, not at the rice but when he looked at me. “Are you all right?”
I groaned. This was ridiculous. I was a grown man, and I could tell my kidnapper that a) I had to pee and b) I was worried the bathroom was so small, I’d suffer another claustrophobic episode and c) the room might be stinky.
“I can’t hold it any longer.” I bent over.
“You’re ill.”
“No, but I will be if I don’t pee. I need to, so badly,” I burst out. Thank gods it was only words bursting out of me.
Hunter’s mouth fell open, and he pointed out the bathroom. “Go. There’s a functioning toilet there.”
“But is it small, like a plane toilet?”
“No, though it is smaller than mine at home.”
“That doesn’t tell me anything.” I wasn’t in the mood for a “my bathroom is bigger than yours” discussion. “You probably have a spa tub, a waterfall shower, heated towel racks, and someone to rub your back and help you on with your robe.” I was yelling and crossing my legs, not wanting to embarrass myself by peeing my pants.
“I don’t. I live alone.”
“That’s what you got from what I said.” I would have laughed but not when I needed the bathroom.
“And I hate those ridiculous plane bathrooms, and I hold my pee when flying.”
“Maybe you and your big brothers should buy a plane.”
His mouth gaped, but luckily he didn’t say anything. Just as well or I might have tossed one of his expensive cushions at his head.
“Open the door, please.”
“It’s three times as big as the ones on a plane. Do you need help?”
My slack-jawed appearance must have convinced him I was horrified. But in case he didn’t get the message, I re-enforced it. “I can unzip my pants and hold my d… myself without your help.” I waddled into the bathroom, thighs pressed together, and went to close the door but left it open a little. “Don’t listen. Put your fingers in your ears.”
“If I’d known your phobia was so debilitating, I might have taken you elsewhere. A panic room in the bowels of the earth wasn’t such a great idea.”
“Don’t talk about bowels. Not now. Sing, and not Humpty Dumpty.” Gods, not when I was in the bathroom. Nothing about a dump. Yikes. I almost giggled. It was so bizarre with my kidnapper singing at the top of his voice so he wouldn’t hear me pee.
“Louder,” I shouted.
With the door cracked so I didn’t freak, I peed, and gods, what a relief. There were no icky smells and the bathroom was luxurious, despite not having a shower. Plump scented towels were rolled up on a shelf above the small vanity, and the soap’s floral aroma smelled filthy rich.
“I’ll do one better.”
He was still singing as I flushed, but it was accompanied by a weird tapping. After washing my hands and loving how soft the towel was compared to the ones at home that were rock hard, I emerged.
Hunter was singing and tap-tap dancing around the space. He reminded me of actors from 1940s musicals that Aunt Louisa liked. Linking arms with imaginary dance partners, he belted out a song, and when he was done, he bowed.
I had the urge to clap, but he hadn’t clarified his purpose for keeping me locked up other than his generic response of, “To keep you safe.”
“Let me guess. You wanted a career on the stage, your name in lights, but Daddy said no.”
I plonked myself onto the sofa, and after toeing off my shoes, I put my feet up. I’d decided as I was his prisoner, I could do what I damned well pleased while in this underground jail. Up to a point. Using the phone was out.
“My dad was assassinated.” His voice wobbled, and the joy was wrung from his face.
Shit, I did that. I fucked up and my words were a slap on the cheek, a kick to the gut, and a crushing blow to his shoulder.
“Hunter, I’m sorry.” There were no words to express how awful I felt. But we weren’t friends. I couldn’t hug him and give him a kiss or buy him a sweet treat. I inched across the floor, figuring being near him might… might what? Me hovering close by wouldn’t make him feel better.
“It’s okay. How could you have known?” Compared to his singing, his voice was small, laced with pain and barely audible.
Being part of the mafia was dangerous, and members of the organization got eliminated frequently according to the TV shows I watched.
Hunter’s phone dinged. Huh. He was allowed to use a device but not me. He probably assumed, rightly, I’d call the cops.
But he flipped the device around to show me my aunt and uncle in the backseat of a car. Aunt Louisa was leaning away from her husband. Not that I blamed her.
“Please tell them I’m okay.”
Hunter nodded and spoke into the phone.
“Where are they being taken? Please bring them here.” I couldn’t face my uncle. “Or somewhere where no one can hurt them.” I had to trust him to look after my family, even though I might be deep in mafia shit.
He tapped the phone. “They’ll go to a place we visit on a full moon.”
I rubbed the furrows on my brow, the lines so deep I worried they’d never unfold. “Where you perform a weird ritual once a month? Is it a naked thing?”
“Ummm, not exactly.”
“Please bring them here.” I needed Aunt Louisa, and while she wouldn’t want to be in a mafia stronghold, she would suck it up for me.
Hunter stared at me before fixing his gaze on the phone. “Okay,” he said eventually.
An alarm sounded. Shit! How did Draven find us? I squealed and dived behind the sofa just as the microwave dinged again, eliciting another screech from me.
Hunter raced into another room, but I leaped up and followed. He wasn’t leaving me here to confront Draven. I was greeted by a wall of monitors, while he was pulling out a gun from his holster.
“Don’t shoot.” I held my arms up in surrender.
“I’m not. I’d never shoot you.” He nibbled his bottom lip, and I caught a hint of how he must’ve looked as a little kid. Adorable. But the image vanished when he waved the weapon at one of the monitors. “What the ever-loving fuck?”
“He’s here. He’s come to drag me back to marry him.” Right now being kidnapped by Hunter appeared to be the better option. I grabbed his shoulders. “Don’t let him. I’d rather die than go with him.”
“No one’s dying. It’s not Draven, and I would give my life before handing you to him.”
If I hadn’t been terrified, I’d have rolled my eyes. Maybe he’d majored in drama at college ‘cause he was plenty dramatic. His words might have soothed my fear if I could have glimpsed my immediate future.
“How many other people are after me?” I released him and gave myself a hug, while rocking back and forth.
Still holding the gun, Hunter wrapped his arms around me. I inhaled his distinctive cologne that was so enticing I almost forgot the uninvited visitor. In another place and time, it would have been delightful having a handsome man with his hands on me.
“The people at the door are not out to get you.”
People? There was more than one. I peered at the monitor. The two men weren’t brandishing weapons.
“How do you know?” My voice wavered as he released me, but I took hold of his shirt and trailed behind him as he headed for the entrance. But the door slid open before Hunter scanned his retina.
I hid behind him when he asked, “How did you find me? No one knows about this place.”
The two men ignored him and tramped inside as the door locked.
“Hello. I’m Rudy, Hunter’s dad, and this is Arnie, my brother-in-law.”
Rudy stuck out his hand, and we shook. I was lost for words because Hunter’s relatives had arrived, as if a visit to a panic room was an everyday occurrence and they’d popped by for lunch.
“Odell.”
“My new son-in—” Hunter clamped a hand over his father’s mouth and shuffled him toward the room with the monitors, before sticking his head out and asking his uncle if he could make something for me to eat. He waved a hand toward the microwave. “There’s half-cooked rice.”
“Food is my specialty.” Arnie peered into the microwave.
I barged in behind Hunter and his dad. He gave me a look but didn’t shoo me out.
He confronted his father. “Who told you about this place and how did you know I was here?”
Rudy stroked Hunter’s cheek. “Oh, darling. I’ve been around a lot longer than you.” He went on to say that when his kids were small and Hunter was just a baby, life was more dangerous. “And when your father took over the running of the club, he insisted on bringing me and you kids to work.
“I explored every inch of this place. Flint and Ranger used to play down here while you slept.”
“But the panic room, Dad. That was a secret.”
The dad patted his son’s cheek and tut-tutted. “I came to the club one day looking for you but you were out, and the plans were on your desk.”
“And you added your fingerprint and retina to the panic room lock. I don’t want to know how.”
Rudy tapped his nose. “I’ll never tell.”
“But why drag Uncle Arnie here?”
“He was at work on the food truck. Your brothers’ mates...” He shot me a glance. “Ummm, husbands were collected by the guards while your brothers are looking for Draven. I got Uncle Arnie, and we decided to be with you and your mate in the panic room.”
He patted his son’s arm. “Besides, I knew you’d starve if I didn’t bring Arnie.”
I skimmed over most of the details but zeroed in on one word.
“I’m not his friend . He captured me.”