Chapter 15
Chapter
Fifteen
Waiting was the worst.
Makayla was so tense, so poised ready to spring into action, so strained from trying to look like she wasn't about to pounce, that her entire body ached.
Exhaustion and the drugs had gotten the best of her the day before, and after she’d done as thorough an examination of her cage as she could, the bed had been irresistible.
Unable to stay away from it, she’d given in to the lure of a soft mattress, feather pillows, and a thick quilt, and had slipped beneath the covers and promptly fallen asleep.
When someone had come to her with a tray of food, there had been no light streaming through the window in the main bedroom, so she knew she’d slept for hours.
Her head had still been stuffy, and she hadn't been in any position to make a move of any sort, so she’d watched with bleary eyes as a middle-aged woman dressed in a maid’s outfit had unlocked her cell, carried the tray in, and placed it on the small table by the rocking chair.
Too good to resist, Makayla had hurried over to the food and all but inhaled it.
It was good, too, though she’d never really been a fan of Japanese food.
Maybe all she’d ever needed to enjoy it was to be hungry enough that anything would have tasted good.
Still utterly exhausted with the drugs likely lingering in her system, she’d crawled back into the bed.
Although it had seemed like a waste of time that should be better spent gathering information that might help her escape, she knew that what she really needed was rest. Only with a clear head would she be able to not just come up with an escape plan but actually enact it.
While she’d slept, the man who bought her had been in here.
She knew because the bed covers on the huge canopy bed were mussed.
While she’d been asleep in her own bed, he’d been sleeping just a dozen yards or so away from her.
Had he stood at the glass wall of her cage and watched her?
Had he gotten himself off to thoughts that she belonged to him, and he could do whatever he wanted with her?
Whatever that was, it apparently wasn't important enough to stick around and tell her, because when she’d woken up, climbed out of her bed, and padded over to use the toilet, she’d seen the bed.
It was early, she could tell from the light coming in the window, so he must have gotten right up and headed off to start his day.
Maybe he was in the bathroom, though she didn't think so because she couldn’t see any lights on in there. If he was, and he was going to come in here and do something to her, he would be a more formidable opponent.
But if it was the woman who had brought her meal …
Then Makayla thought she could take her.
Van’s words echoed through her mind. Do whatever she had to do to escape, don’t hold back, kill if she needed to. She’d attacked Josh back at the building she’d been held in, and while she hadn't killed him, she was pretty sure she would have if she’d needed to.
Just like she’d do now.
Please be the woman with breakfast, please be the woman, please be the woman.
Chanting it over and over in her mind as she sat in the rocking chair and waited, it seemed almost too good to be true when, a while later, the door to the main bedroom opened and the same woman who had brought her dinner last night carried in a tray with breakfast.
The woman didn't look at her as she crossed the room, and Makayla could make a guess that she either knew what the man who bought her was capable of, and was terrified of him, or she wasn't here by choice.
If she wasn't here by choice, then killing her would be wrong.
How could she hurt an innocent, even to save her own life?
That went against everything she believed in.
But there was no way to know if the woman was an innocent or just a bystander who was too scared to get involved, without asking her.
And if she asked, she lost her element of surprise.
If she was going to make her move, she had to act quickly, decisively, without hesitation, because hesitation could wind up with her either dead or with any chance at escape stripped away.
So, Makayla shoved away all her worries, and when the woman strolled into the cage, placed the tray on the table, and then turned her back to leave again, Makayla acted.
It was clear the woman wasn't expecting any trouble from her, because she let out a surprised squeak when Makayla wrapped an arm around her throat, squeezing tight enough that she knew she was making it difficult for the woman to breathe. Reaching out blindly, her fingers found the knife that had been on the tray and pressed it into the woman’s side.
Kill her and run.
Van’s voice whispered in her mind, but even though she knew she could be costing herself her life, she hesitated for a moment.
The fear that the woman was another victim was almost paralyzing.
Killing an innocent would change her forever.
Killing anyone would change her, but if she ended the life of someone who didn't deserve it, she wasn't sure she could cope with that.
If you don’t put yourself first and kill her, you won't have a life to worry about what you can and can't cope with.
Since there was no way she could argue with that, Makayla took a deep breath and shoved the knife between the woman’s ribs.
A horrified squawk fell from the maid’s lips, and she shifted the arm she had around her neck to clamp a hand over her mouth instead. Because she wasn't sure if she’d delivered a kill strike, she pulled the knife out and stabbed her again.
Tears streamed down her cheeks, and nausea burned in her stomach. Dropping the woman, she ran to the toilet, dropped to her knees, and threw up the little she’d eaten for dinner.
She was a killer.
A murderer.
If it had been Josh, who she knew was evil, who gleefully participated in torturing and trafficking women, she probably wouldn't feel so bad. But she had no idea if this woman was part of it or being forced to work here.
“Don’t think about it, don’t think about it,” she urged herself as she staggered to her feet.
Getting lost in her guilt would only paralyze her, keeping her trapped here. She had no idea when someone would miss the woman, and if she wanted a chance to run, she had to keep moving.
With badly shaking hands, she stripped the woman’s clothes off her.
They were covered in blood, but if no one looked at her too closely, they wouldn't notice it because the uniform was black.
It wasn't just the blood that would give her away.
The maid was Japanese, and Makayla was as white as white could be, with blue eyes, plus her hair was brown, not black.
Still, they were approximately the same height and weight.
Once she had the woman in her underwear, Makayla stripped off her white dress and pulled on the maid’s uniform.
Then she grabbed the woman’s limp body under the arms and dragged her over to the bed.
It took tremendous effort to heft the body onto the mattress and tuck her under the covers, and she was breathing hard by the time she had her tucked into the bed.
The maid, on the other hand, wasn't breathing at all.
“I'm sorry,” Makayla whispered, tears blurring her vision. “If you aren't part of this, then I'm so sorry. I didn't want to do it but … I have to live, and that means I have to do whatever I have to do.”
Reaching over, she hesitated for a second, then closed the woman’s eyes. Then she turned and ran. Locking the cage behind her, she took off for the bedroom door. All she had to do was get through the house and outside without anyone spotting her.
If she were seen, it was all over. Even if they hadn't seen her face when she was first brought here, they would know who she was as soon as they saw her. She couldn’t speak Japanese, so she couldn’t even tell anyone to keep their distance, although she had no idea what reason she’d give even if she could speak the language.
She didn't even know how to get to an exterior door, or what she would find once she got outside.
If she ran into people, she wouldn't be able to kill them as easily as she had the maid, although she still clutched the bloody knife in her hand.
But none of that mattered.
Living meant trying, so she tried to still the tremors rocking her body, opened the bedroom door, and stepped into the hall, praying like she’d never prayed before, that she could make this happen.
August 31st
10:17 A.M.
A screen sat on his lap, a tablet playing a movie, his program ran in the background, checking all the cameras set up. Yesterday, after he spoke with Falcon, he’d come back with more cameras—the reason he’d given for heading out for a bit—and spent the rest of the day installing them.
Of course, they still needed the footage, but what he really wanted was the address of the person who had bought Makayla. He was sure that was one of the two people Prey had been looking for, and he was already ninety percent sure he knew who the other head of Azure was.
Prey was doing everything on their side to find the address of her Japanese buyer, and he was doing what he could, too.
Not that he could do much. Everyone else was occupied with their five remaining guests, and with the other rooms now also prepared, they were getting ready to rebuild their stock so they could go back into full business.
Last night, he hadn't been able to leave the building. He knew he should go to a motel and grab a few hours of sleep, but he couldn’t seem to make himself go.
This was the last place he’d been with Makayla.
This was the only place he’d been with her and leaving here felt like completely leaving her behind.
Prey had a team ready to go as soon as they had an address, and if he could figure out a way to go with them, he would, but if not, he trusted that they could get her out.
The problem was, Makayla didn't know that.