Chapter 27
Chapter Twenty-Seven
D ella snuggled under cozy covers, relishing the silky-soft sheets caressing her bare skin. She loved slow, sluggish Sunday mornings.
She was caught in the space between asleep and awake, a delicious place to be. All of her muscles were utterly relaxed. Last night had been so amazing. She could still feel Ward’s hands, the heat of his body. He…
Wake up.
She frowned. Why did he sound so urgent?
The stalker found you .
Adrenaline pushed her pulse up, up, up, and her eyes shot open as flashes of memory flitted in and out.
The crash.
The big man with angry eyebrows and crazy, too-bright eyes. He’d pulled her out. He’d caressed her face and eased her out of the wreck with gentle hands. He’d called her by her name. Her real name.
Then he’d shot her.
Her hand automatically went to the raised, itchy spot on her arm.
Drugged.
He’d drugged her.
After that…she couldn’t remember.
Frantic, she looked around as she struggled to get out from under the covers and the fog clouding her mind.
“Greg? Annie?” Her voice came out as a cracked whimper. Her mouth was so dry. “Ward?”
Nobody answered.
Her breath came in uneven gasps as reality settled in.
She’d been taken.
She pushed herself up, wiggling until she could lean against the headboard for support.
She was in a very nice hotel room. A door led to a bathroom on the right, and there was a large sitting area to her left. It was filled with dark wood furniture, rich gold carpet, and red and gold striped drapes.
Except…the wall and door leading to the outside were white. They looked…unfinished.
What kind of hotel was this?
Her neck and chest hurt. She ran her hand along the diagonal line where the seatbelt had dug into her chest, her throat tightening as she realized she was naked. All she wore was the necklace Ward had given her and the underwear Ward had thrown at her…
When? This morning?
How long had she been here?
Where was here?
A soft, high-pitched moan escaped as she fisted the panic button with both hands and squeezed.
Nothing happened. It wasn’t supposed to make noise. She knew that.
She’d pushed the button before, hadn’t she? She thought… Yes. More than once.
Ward hadn’t come.
Was it broken? If it was, did Ward even know she was gone?
Icy fingers of terror squeezed her from the inside out. She rocked back and forth to make them go away, but it did nothing to soothe or comfort. It made her feel out of control and lost, like a child.
She forced herself to stop. To breathe. To think.
Annie had told her that if she were ever taken to look around and really see . Every room had weapons. Every room had a way out. Even prison cells had a weakness. She’d said it like she spoke from experience.
Della looked around, this time taking in the details.
Lamps on both sides of the bed cast a warm glow, but they were too small to use as weapons. No phone. No TV.
She didn’t see a clock or other dust-catchers. There was nothing she could pick up and throw except pillows.
The curtains were closed. She couldn’t tell if it was day or night. It had been late morning when she left Wires Crossing, but she’d have to look out the window to get an idea of how much time had passed.
There was a single red rose lying on the pillow next to her. Like the one on her bed at Piper’s house. Like the ones in her dressing room.
The icy fingers of terror she’d been trying to ignore tightened their grip on her lungs.
Focus. She had to focus. Any detail could help. That’s what Annie had said. Don’t ignore your other senses.
Della sniffed. The air smelled clean, like her apartment always did after the housekeeper had gone. Like…lemon furniture polish. No dust on the furniture. No stains on the covers or trash on the dresser. It was pristine.
Della listened, hard, but there was nothing to hear. There was no TV playing down the hall. No footsteps. No murmured conversations through the wall. Nothing.
What kind of fancy hotel would be totally empty? What kind of stalker would kidnap someone and then leave them alone?
A stupid one.
She knew from everything Ward had told her that her stalker…her kidnapper…wasn’t stupid.
There were probably cameras. The psycho could be watching her right now like Ward watched his security monitors.
That thought made her teeth rattle. She balled her fists around the covers and pulled them up.
She didn’t think hiding in bed was what Annie had in mind when she said look around. Annie would pound on the walls and the windows. Annie would knock holes in everything until she found a way out. Annie was a badass.
Della wasn’t. She was an entertainer. A party girl. She didn’t have any skills that didn’t involve a stage.
Jesus, she was useless.
She pressed her lips together against the tears that welled up. That was silly talk, as Lizzie would say.
Ridiculously self-indulgent, Piper would tell her. Piper focused on the work. It was what Della had always admired the most about her. Lizzie was the calm one. Piper was the dedicated one. Mattie was the kind one.
What did that make Della?
The weak one?
No.
Hell no.
She might not have Annie’s skills, but that didn’t make her weak.
Della slid slowly out of bed, dragging the duvet with her. She refused to wander around this place naked. Where were her clothes? Had Psycho stripped her so she couldn’t leave?
If that was his plan, he’d seriously underestimated her. She had no problem screaming as she ran down the busiest street in the world naked.
When she didn’t see her T-shirt and jeans lying on a chair, she moved to the closet. Inside, she found a white robe with a hotel logo on it.
Hollywood Hills Hotel.
She stared at it. He’d taken her back to California? She couldn’t have been out of it for that long, could she?
She dropped the covers to put on the robe. It tied at the waist and draped all the way to the tops of her feet, but she still felt exposed.
That accomplished, she hurried to the window and ripped back the curtain. “Hey! Anybody out there?”
The rush of relief at seeing a city street with palm trees quickly dissolved into throat-closing panic.
It was just a picture. She could see the colored dots that made up the poster print.
It was fake.
She pounded on it. “Help! Somebody help me!”
The picture was mounted on something like wood that creaked with each blow, but it didn’t break. She shoved at it as hard as she could.
It didn’t budge.
She searched the rest of the room. What she’d taken for luxury at first glance now seemed ordinary, or worse. The dresser drawers were just false fronts that didn’t open. The nightstand was some kind of laminate that was worn on the edges. The lamp still had a price tag on the back. Five ninety-nine from Sally’s Second Hand.
Everything was fake.
She ran through the sitting room toward the front door.
It opened before she was halfway across the room and suddenly there he was.
She recognized him from the profile Ward had shown her a few weeks ago.
It was the stunt guy. Lester. Lester…Hull? Hugh? Something like that.
She’d told Ward that she’d never met him. She’d even teased about how she’d definitely remember a cutie like that.
He didn’t look so cute now.
Les the Psycho stood just inside the door with a plastic grocery bag in one hand like he was just some normal guy back from running errands. He was bigger than Ward and built like someone used to ripping things apart. He was looking at her like…like…oh God. Like he was very happy to see her.
“Della. You’re awake. Good.”
She’d never hated the sound of her own name before.
His smile deepened, pushing two dimples into view. They should have made him seem more like a teddy bear than a villain, but there was something broken behind his eyes that made her want to run. “I’m sorry I wasn’t here when you woke up. I hope you haven’t been waiting long.”
She shook her head, but she wasn’t sure if it was an answer to his question or a denial that he was there.
“Les?” She hated sounding so weak and timid.
His dimples sank in just a bit more, and his eyes crinkled with pleasure. “Are you hungry? There’s snacks in the fridge.”
The smooth tenor of his voice tickled to life a dim memory of the catering table at Piper’s last movie.
Would you like to go get some coffee after? I know a great little cafe just down the street.
He’d been nice, but it had been a busy day and she’d been distracted by all the activity as they set up a complicated shot. Had she even answered him? She couldn’t remember.
Lester’s pleased expression faltered as he watched her process. “What’s the matter? You look pale.”
“Uh…I…I’m…thirsty.” Her voice cracked on the last word.
He frowned with what she interpreted as genuine concern. “Go on, sweet thing, sit down. I’ll get you some water.”
It was the kind of thing one friend would say to another. She watched the man who stood between her and freedom shut the door and drop the bag he was carrying onto a nearby table.
He moved closer to her. With every step he took, the room grew smaller and smaller until there was no room to move, no room to breathe.
He leaned close to kiss her cheek. “We have a lot to talk about.”
She jerked away from his touch.
A spark of anger flashed through his eyes. “What’s the matter with you?”
She couldn’t fight him. He’d overpower her without even trying. She had to keep him talking.
“Just…sleepy.” She managed a small, stiff smile. “Wh…where are we?”
“The first pit stop. Nice, huh?” He glanced around, pride evident on his face.
Did he really think she’d compliment him on his choice of prison?
She watched him, not sure what to do. She managed to nod slightly, hoping he’d take that for agreement.
His eyes warmed. “I know Charming Charlie is your favorite movie. Not many know they didn’t strike the set. It’s just been sitting here for years. Thought you’d like having a behind-the-scenes look.”
“Charming…Charlie?” She felt stupid repeating him, but at least she’d managed to say something. He’d turned her favorite movie into a prison? “I…it looks…familiar.”
“It should. Nothing’s changed here since. Can’t say the same for you, though.” Lester reached out to touch one of her curls. “I have to admit, I’m not liking the red.”
She couldn’t help but flinch away.
His gaze hardened. “Stop acting like I’m some sort of creepy stranger. I’m not going to hurt you. We’ve been friends a long time.” He stepped into her, his eyes narrowed with sudden aggression. “You remember the day we met. Tell me. Tell me how we met.”
He’d gone from relatively normal to unhinged delusion in the blink of an eye. She tried to swallow, but her mouth was dry and her tongue felt like a lead weight. “You…asked me to…coffee.”
He leaned back, looking satisfied. “That’s right. I knew you’d remember. We had a real connection that day. I think we both knew we had something special.”
For a second she couldn’t breathe. Her lungs refused to work. Normally when she ran into this kind of crazy there were bodyguards in the way. She squeezed the necklace again, even though it didn’t seem to do anything.
Lester’s gaze flicked to her hair. “I know that shitty color wasn’t your fault. They tried to hide you from me. Don’t worry. I brought something to fix it.”
He moved past her. He was just a guy, coming home to his girlfriend after a long day. “I also brought you a change of clothes. I know you hated that T-shirt. It was way too plain. My sweet girl likes to sparkle.”
She gripped her robe tighter. She knew she should say something or do something to keep him distracted, but her feet refused to move. Words refused to tumble out.
Think of it like a show , she told herself. You ’ re onstage. You can entertain any audience. That ’ s all he is. An audience.
Lester beckoned. “Sit down. You can have a snack before you fix your hair. It’s not much. We don’t have a lot of time. It took you longer to wake up than I anticipated.”
“We…time for what?”
“To hit the road.” He shook his head. “You can’t stay this close to your old life. It won’t want to let you go, and we both know you need to leave it behind.”
It was so close to something she’d thought herself that tears stung her eyes. It was unnerving to think this psycho had picked up on something she hadn’t fully grasped herself.
She’d been lonely. That was true. She’d thought that meant she wanted a new life.
Now she knew that was bullshit.
She didn’t want to leave her life behind. She wanted to expand it. She wanted real, meaningful connections. She’d found those while working with Piper on her small venue shows. She’d found it writing songs with Mattie.
She’d found it in Wires Crossing.
She didn’t want to leave that—any of it—behind. Ever.
Where are you, Ward? I need you.