Twelve
Winslet
The morning sun filled the room when I opened the drapes. I hadn’t moved a muscle all night, it seemed. Sleep had come fast, and I was glad it had.
Part of me had worried that my conversation and time with Oz would replay over in my head and keep me awake. Especially the image of him masturbating, which he’d put there unknowingly. It had heated my body instantly, and it’d taken me a moment to get my composure.
Wrapping my arms around my waist, I stood in just the oversize T-shirt, having discarded the leggings before getting into bed. The sunshine filtered through the trees as I watched a robin perch on the railing of the balcony. This was rather magical. The silence and beauty combined. The apartment building I lived in was never this peaceful, and the view looked nothing like this.
What a difference from the last two—or wait, maybe it had been three—mornings I’d woken up here. This was far superior to the dark, damp basement. I wasn’t sure I had much more information I could give him, and the thought that they could have found Perry with the information I had given them slowly sank in, ruining my brief moment of bliss. Here I was, enjoying my morning, while my brother could be hurting or—no. I would not think about that.
The man I had spent time with last night wouldn’t let them kill my brother. If Perry was involved in the counterfeit money, then the man who had gotten him into it was that Samson guy. He had a private plane. He had money. He could give them back the four million, and Perry would get to live. Possibly in federal prison for many years. How many years did one get for that?
Letting out a heavy sigh at the thought of visiting Perry while he sat behind bars made me feel ill. He was a brilliant man, a genius, according to his IQ of 189, but he was also five foot six and weighed one hundred twenty pounds. He’d never had a defined muscle in his life. How could he survive prison?
I had to find out this morning if they’d found him. If they had…what would I do? Would Oz take me home? Perry had given me enough birthday money that I could get a plane ticket and go to Morocco, but he wouldn’t be there if they let me go. That was a stupid plan. I was his sister. Perhaps I could file a missing person report. If he had been arrested then they would know.
“Perry,” I muttered in frustration, “what have you gotten yourself into?”
I went to the bathroom and began taking off my clothing. In case my brother was still on the run, I would need a good, long shower because I wasn’t sure if I was going to remain in this room or be taken back to the basement. I knew I wasn’t going to give Oz any more information. I’d done enough damage yesterday. Selling my brother out for another night of luxury wasn’t happening. I could survive the basement. He might not survive prison or…the Mafia.
Folding the shirt and leggings that Oz had given me to wear, I went to place them on the counter when I noticed a pair of blue yoga pants and another large T-shirt hanging beside the clean towels, along with a pair of white lace panties draped over the hanger.
Where had those and the clean, fluffy towels come from?
I took a step back and looked out into the bedroom at the door. Oz had to have brought them in here, but when? Last night, while I had been asleep? I had always been a very deep sleeper. Perry always said I’d sleep through a bomb going off. I wasn’t sure how I felt about Oz being in here when I slept. Sure, he’d come in here and woken me up yesterday, but having him walk in and put things in the bathroom while I was sleeping made me feel vulnerable. What if I’d snored? Or my mouth had been hanging open?
Shaking my head at my train of thought, I went to slip off my panties and get in the shower. It didn’t matter what I was doing or looked like. Oz wasn’t some hot guy I was trying to impress. He was a hot guy I was trying to survive. I might have been given clean clothing and slept on the best mattress I’d ever laid on, but I was still a prisoner. I still had no phone. I was locked in this bedroom.
Last night, having dinner with him and sitting to talk, had felt…well, for a moment, I had enjoyed myself. I’d forgotten just what all he had done to me. Most likely due to his ridiculously attractive face and that freaking metal bar in his tongue. He smelled nice too. The few times he had walked by me, I’d gotten a whiff and wanted more. The scent was spicy liquor, tobacco, and a rich, dense forest. Masculine and assertive.
And there I go again. Stop it, Winslet. STOP IT. Don’t think about his appearance, pierced tongue, or scent. Think about the fact that he’s intent on finding Perry.
The maim-and-kill thing had kept slipping my mind. I had to remember the man I had faced when I woke up in the basement. Not the one from last night. Being grateful to him for my current accommodations was ridiculous. I would be at my home right now if it wasn’t for him.
The yoga pants fit and felt great. The shirt, however, smelled like Oz. So much so that I considered putting back on the one from yesterday. If I had this scent in my nostrils all day, I would continue to struggle to remember who the bad guy was. After several minutes of debate, I gave in and put it on. Mostly because it was a delicious scent and I didn’t want him asking me why I wasn’t wearing it. I’d turn bright red, and he’d notice.
While brushing through my towel-dried hair, I heard the lock in the door click, and I walked over to look into the bedroom. Oz walked inside, his gaze going from the bed, then swinging in my direction.
“You could have knocked,” I informed him, thinking about how I had been naked minutes ago.
“Why would I do that? You couldn’t have opened the door for me,” he replied with an amused expression on his face.
I waved a hand at the shower. “Because I might have been in the shower or indecent.”
There was a brief flash of something dark and seductive in his eyes that sent a shiver through me before he smirked.
“I’d have heard the water running when I entered and left.”
Would he have though?
The warmth radiating through my body needed to go the eff away. Was this Stockholm syndrome?
“I came to tell you breakfast is ready,” he said.
He had made breakfast. He was going to let me eat again. I wondered what he looked like when he was standing over a stove.
“Thank you,” I replied before my imagination took flight. “I’ll be down after I make the bed.”
Without another word, he left and closed the door. No click of the lock this time.
Stepping back into the bathroom, I stood in front of the mirror and studied my reflection. How easy it was for him to make me forget he was hunting my brother down. I couldn’t blame my reaction to him on lack of sleep or starvation this time. I wasn’t sure I’d ever rested as soundly as I had last night.
“Perry needs you to keep your head on straight,” I hissed at myself before setting the brush on the counter and heading to make up the bed before going down to breakfast.
I should have asked him about Perry. If they had found him. If I was leaving today. But neither thing had come to me while I was tingling in places that hadn’t been touched in a while and feeling all warm and excited.
Quickly, I straightened the sheets and coverlet, then arranged the pillows the way they had been yesterday when I was first brought in here. Mentally, I listed in order the many questions I had for Oz, then opened the door to make my way down the hallway. Every step I took, I repeated my questions in my head so that I was focused.
The smell of bacon and coffee met me as I descended the staircase. I’d not had coffee since…well, since the morning before he had taken me. My pace quickened; I wanted to hold a cup close to my nose and soak in the dreamy aroma, then of course take that first sip.
The blessed nectar of the gods. Oh, how I’d missed you.
Oz’s head immediately turned to me when I entered the kitchen. He was standing at the island, his hip leaning against it with his phone in his right hand and a mug in his other.
“You missed a call from a blocked number,” he told me, holding out the phone toward me.
I dropped my gaze to it, realizing it was my phone that he was holding.
“It came when I went upstairs to tell you breakfast was ready. When it rings again, answer it.”
They hadn’t found him then. If they had, Oz wouldn’t want me to answer my phone. They were still looking.
Perry, do not call this number again!
Or…maybe he needed to. If he was innocent, then he could tell them. Explain how this happened.
I closed the space between us until I could take my phone from his outstretched hand. Although it had only been a few days since I’d seen it last, holding it felt odd. The need to have it in my possession—so I could google any question I had, check the time or the weather, look on Pinterest for classroom ideas, or even play Hay Day—no longer seemed like a necessity. It was as if I’d overcome an addiction and someone was handing my vice back to me.
“Your, uh, friends, haven’t found him yet then,” I said, wanting clarification.
Oz shook his head, his chiseled jaw more defined as he clenched his teeth. He wasn’t happy about that, but I was relieved. Not that I wanted to stay here any longer, but when it meant Perry was still safe, I accepted it.
“I need you to tell me more today. Something that will help. Anything else that you can think of. Does he have other friends or business partners you haven’t mentioned? When was the last time he went on a trip? Where did he go? Was there a place in town he frequented?”
I frowned. “Why would you want to know that if he’s in Morocco?”
Oz’s eyes flashed, as if in warning. Reminding me that he was the one in charge. He asked the questions. He had the power.
I swallowed and licked my lips when he continued to glare at me, waiting and not intending to answer me.
“I told you, he has a very small circle. He never introduced me to anyone. Samson was going to be the first. I know he kept in touch with some of the guys he’d roomed with at Stanford.”
“When was the last time he saw any of them?” Oz’s question sounded more like a demand.
I shrugged. I wasn’t sure. “He didn’t share his schedule with me. He is a busy man. His company takes a lot of his time. I know that he flew to California last December to go to a holiday party one of them was having.”
“Who was having it? I need names.”
This I knew. He’d talked about them a lot while at college. The phone calls we had, I’d listen to him tell me about his life there, happy he had found a place he fit. That he had friends. But if I told Oz, would that put these guys in trouble?
“I’m not sure,” I lied.
He knew it too. The way his eyes narrowed and his lips formed a straight line told me he wasn’t fooled. I had always been a terrible liar.
“Don’t lie to me,” he warned in a deeper tone.
I took in a sharp breath, feeling the anxiety and fear well up inside of me. What did I do? Give him names of more possibly innocent men? Just to what? Keep him from punishing me? Putting me in the basement? Starving me?
My eyes shifted to the coffeepot. I wanted a cup of that. But what was I willing to do to get it? Sell my soul? Because that was what it felt like. Giving him information so I had my daily comforts. When every word I told him could lead to the capture of my brother.
The phone in my hand began to ring, and I almost dropped it. Oz moved fast, catching it and pressing Answer, then putting it to my ear. I had to speak. Say something. But could he trace Perry from this call? He continued to hold the phone, not giving it to me. Perhaps he was worried I’d hang up. I wanted to. The need to save my brother took control of all my actions.
The words, Hang up! Run , were on the tip of my tongue.
“Winzy?” Perry’s voice came over the line.
Hearing his voice hit me with a rush of emotion that clogged my throat.
“Yeah,” I choked out. Thankful he was alive. That he had a phone that he could call me on.
“Why are you in Louisiana? Who are you with?” he asked, sounding slightly frantic.
My eyes swung back to Oz’s face. He had taken me to Louisiana? I’d assumed we were still in Mississippi. I wanted to ask where in Louisiana I was since Perry would be able to see that.
Oz was close. Too close. He would be able to hear everything Perry said. If I moved away, he’d still have the phone.
“I’m, uh…” What was I supposed to say?
Oz nodded his head, as if to tell him the truth. Was he setting a trap for him? But then if he knew, maybe he could get Marley to call the police if he was in fact running from the Feds.
“Winzy, did someone take you?” Perry asked.
“Yes,” I replied just above a whisper.
“Fuck!” His voice was a mixture of fear and concern.
“They’ll be tracing this call then. I gotta go. But tell them nothing,” he told me.
What did he think I was going to tell them?
I opened my mouth, but the line went dead. He’d hung up. Shocked, I stood there, saying nothing. Perry was scared. He wasn’t innocent. He’d never hung up on me in my life, and he had just done it after finding out someone had taken me. This didn’t feel real.
The phone was taken from my ear, and Oz tossed it onto the island before pulling one from his pocket and texting. He was telling one of them. The cowboy Mafia gang that Perry had apparently screwed over.
Had he known they were criminals when he did it? Where had he even gotten the money? Who had made it?
I gasped, thinking about the five thousand he had put in my checking account. Was that counterfeit? Would the bank find out? Would I go to jail? I couldn’t replace the thousand dollars I had spent at Hobby Lobby. But I could return everything I bought. Give them back the money. They wouldn’t arrest me then, right?
“What is it that you know?” Oz asked me. The accusation clear in his tone.
He thought I knew something and that I had been hiding it from him.
I shook my head. “Nothing,” I replied honestly.
I had a sinking feeling of betrayal from what Perry had just done. He would have known they were listening. He had made it sound as if we were in this together. That I was the Bonnie to his Clyde.
“DON’T FUCKING LIE TO ME!” Oz shouted angrily.
I jumped, startled and now terrified by the threatening look on his face.
My throat clogged, my pulse raced, and my eyes burned. I didn’t know anything. I wanted to wail that I was innocent. But doing so did me no good, thanks to Perry’s choice of words.
“Nikola, um, a uh, James,” I said on a small sob. I began to list the names I had heard my brother talk about while at Stanford. “William and uh Fredrick. Last December, he went to a party at a guy named Hans Warren’s house. I think he said it was in Portola Valley, if that’s near San Francisco. I know for certain he was in San Francisco. Life360 alerted me when his flight arrived.”
Oz’s expression remained enraged. There was a brutal savageness about it that made it difficult for me to take a deep breath.
“What does he not want you to tell us?” he asked, but this time, there was a violent inflection in his tone.
My eyes filled with tears from the sheer intimidation. I wasn’t scared of returning to the basement. I was terrified of what he’d do to me physically if I didn’t tell him what Perry had meant.
“I don’t know.” My voice came out whisper soft.
The words had barely left my mouth when Oz’s large hand wrapped around my throat, and he shoved my back against the cool metal door of the refrigerator. His grip tightened until I could just barely suck in oxygen. The slate-gray of his eyes was now the color of a stormy sea, harkening the impending doom.
When I tried to breathe deeper, his hand squeezed until I could get nothing to my lungs. The fear and panic exploded into utter terror as I stared back at him. He was going to kill me. I was going to die out here at the hands of a man who was unfairly beautiful, hiding the twisted evil that dwelled inside him where a soul should reside. Hot tears rolled down my cheeks.
The ringing of a phone broke the deadly silence, and his hand eased as he stepped back to grab his phone from the island where he had left it. I fell forward, coughing and gasping as I inhaled air again. My knees were shaky, and my vision was slightly blurry. Grabbing my knees, I stayed bent over until I could find my balance.
“Yeah,” Oz barked into the phone. The sound of his voice making me wince. “Good.”
I had to get away from here. Before, escaping wasn’t something I’d considered since we were so remote and I had no clue where we were, but I couldn’t stay here now that I’d seen what he was capable of. He could—and most likely would—kill me. Running was my only option.
“Write these names down,” he said to whoever he was talking to. “Hans Warren. Check the San Francisco area. Portola Valley, to be specific. He was at a party there in December. They had gone to Stanford together. Also, Nikola, James, Fredrick, and William. I don’t have last names.”
He hadn’t asked me for them, but I wouldn’t have known. I only knew the last name Warren because Perry had said it when telling me whose house he was at when I spoke to him on the phone later that day.
“Yeah,” his gruff voice said into the phone as he started walking away.
He was going to get something. My eyes scanned the kitchen for keys or a car fob. If I was going to have any chance of successfully escaping, I needed a vehicle until I could get to a town or city. He’d be here on foot and not be able to run me down until I was far enough away. Not sure if I would go directly to the police station or not. I could go and tell them about the money Perry had given me. That I hadn’t known. But would they put me in jail until I could clear my name?
I looked at the refrigerator, where he had almost choked me to death, and decided that being alive was worth it. If I stayed here, that darkness in his gaze would eventually snap when I couldn’t tell him what he wanted. He’d have no use for me, and that would be it. If the phone hadn’t rung, it was possible he would have killed me. He might be coming back to finish the job.
With my heart hammering in my chest, I began to walk swiftly through the kitchen, into the next room, then toward the door, looking for any sign of a key or a fob. I was running out of time, and I knew it. I had to think. It was get away from here or die.
My brother had basically signed my death certificate. That was a break that I’d never be able to mend. Even still, I wanted to protect him. It was what I did. All I knew.
I heard his voice as he continued talking to whoever was on the other line and hurried away from the sound. Not wanting to get closer, but farther away. Rushing down the hallway, I saw a key holder on the wall near the door that led to the basement. There wasn’t a car key on it, but the one key I did see I knew most likely belonged to the cell in the basement.
“I’m working on it.” Oz’s voice drew closer.
I had no time to debate this idea. I couldn’t walk myself through the outcome. Grabbing the key, I slung the door open and rushed down the stairs almost at a full-blown run. My heart slamming against my chest. The door to the cell was open, and I wanted to weep in relief for one last step. Heavy footsteps pounded above me, alerting me to Oz having realized I’d run down here. Although I doubted he’d guess what I was about to do.
Closing the gate behind me, I reached through the bars, using the key to lock it as my hands trembled. Adrenaline coursed through my veins at the sound of Oz coming down the stairs. The lock clicked into place, and I pulled out the key and backed away from the bars before his first foot hit the concrete floor. I was panting, but relief flooded me. I’d made it. I was locked in, and I had the key. He couldn’t get to me.
I was safe. For now.
“What the fuck are you doing?” he asked me with more annoyance than anything in his voice.
“Staying alive,” I replied out of breath.
He tilted his head and studied me. “You think this keeps you safe?” He took a step toward the bars. “That you won’t have to tell me the secret you’re keeping for your brother?”
Yes, I did. I had the key. He couldn’t get to me. But I didn’t say that. I said nothing.
“You’ll get hungry and thirsty. You’ll come out when you think I’m asleep. I won’t be.”
Okay, I hadn’t thought that far. He could still harm me in here by dehydration and starvation. My mouth immediately felt dry, reminding me how horrible it had been with just that small bottle every twenty-four hours. Now, he wasn’t even going to give me that. But at least he wasn’t able to continue choking me to death.
“I don’t know what Perry was talking about,” I told him.
His scowl returned. “Your willingness to lock yourself back in this basement tells me that you’re lying. You will do anything to protect him, yet he did nothing to protect you. In fact, I’d even say he just threw you to the fucking wolves. But then he could have been trying to make us believe you weren’t important to him. See if we’d let you go, stop wasting our time with you,” Oz said as he stepped closer to the bars, his hand wrapping around one, making me shiver, as if he had the power to rip it from the floor. “I think I’ll call his bluff.”
What did that mean? Call his bluff on what?
Oz let go, his hand dropping to his side before he turned and walked away. I listened as he climbed the stairs, then closed the door. Darkness ascended. I had no light. Why hadn’t I grabbed my phone? He’d taken the lantern with him when we walked out yesterday morning. Another thing I hadn’t thought about. But there had been no time.