Page 18 of Caged
“Lara? I need you to pick up Elena and take her to your home.” He pauses and glances at me. “Yes, now.” He ends the connection and tosses his phone in the center console before staring out the front windshield.
He wouldn’t know I could understand him.
Who’s Elena?
Who’s Lara?
I thought he didn’t have a woman?
“What is your name?” He doesn’t look at me.
“Melissa.” I’ve been practicing for the last few days so it rolls off of my tongue easily. Despite my Russian heritage, I lived long enough in California before my parents died to easily slide into my American accent.
Tyler has it all sprinkled online, just in case anyone checks.
Which they will. People don’t gain the kind of power they have without doing their due diligence.
I just hope Tyler’s efforts are effective against whoever it is that they have.
“I’m Nikolai. Where did those men take you from?” He slows down and turns into a long driveway that ends at a small Spanish-style house.
I have this part rehearsed. “I was driving across the country after my parents died. Someone took me at one of those rest stops on Interstate Eighty. I think it’s been months.” I let tears taint my voice and toss in a sniffle for good measure.
I need him to believe I’m alone.
He just grunts before grabbing his phone and climbing out of his door.
My hand is closing around the handle when mine flies open.
“Here.” He offers his palm.
Another spark sizzles down my arm when my skin touches his.
How can he make the inside of my body feel too warm?
Crap. I’m supposed to be hurting.
I let out a cry as I put my weight on my injured leg.
It’s just a flesh wound, but I’ll use it.
“I’m sorry. I’m fine.” Making a show of pushing his hand away seems to earn a flash of compassion in his blue eyes.
He sets his jaw and leans over before scooping me up.
It’s like I’m being carried by a granite statue into his house.
“I can walk,” I squeak.
“I know,” he grunts.
Pushing through a heavy steel security gate, he sets me down gently onto a plush couch. “Stay.”
His command is emotionless as if he was talking to a dog.
But, I obey, taking a moment to look around.
There isn’t much to go off of. He’s got to be a bachelor. There’s nothing on the walls, just a couch with a table and TV. I can see the edge of a counter that marks the kitchen, and the hall he disappeared down.