Obsessed (Lace Underground Trilogy Book 2)

  They flank me and grab hold of my arms to drag me to my next destination. I'm gearing up for a good old-fashioned, torture-filled interrogation or maybe I've misjudged Freestone from the start. Maybe he just wants to talk.

  Or maybe not. My buddies haul me into a room. They sit me down hard on a chair that is sitting in the middle of a half-filled storage room. They untie and retie my hands behind the back of the chair and secure my feet to the legs.

  "Again, not what I expected when I paid those huge club dues."

  My smart ass comment is quickly put to rest by another fist. My head snaps back, but my chin is still numb from the first blow. There is no doubt in my mind that the guy is taking it easy on me. His fist is the size of a fucking boulder, and his arms look like tree trunks.

  It's harder to talk with my aching jaw, but I mutter out a question. "Are we waiting for the boss?"

  "I prefer Mr. Freestone." The deep voice comes from behind as the light from the corridor momentarily makes the shadowy storage room glow. The door snaps shut, dousing the light. Freestone's stride reminds me of a slow stalking panther stepping through the trees to catch his prey. He's wearing a dress shirt and slacks but decided to skip the tie and overcoat for his stockroom interrogation party.

  Without being told, the biggest of the two, the guy with the boulder sized fists, quickly pushes a large box out from the stacks along the walls. He pushes it so it's just ten feet in front of me. Freestone sits against it and crosses his arms and legs. I want to pound the arrogance off his face. I want to tear his fucking head off for what he's done to Ten. But I can't even let on that I know her.

  I don't realize I'm clenching my teeth until a pain shoots through my swollen jaw. I relax, hoping it will help me stay focused and ready for whatever they throw at me. Fists included.

  "Well, I'm bored just looking at you," Freestone sneers. "So let's cut to the meat of it. You're too cocky to work for the pharmaceutical companies, so I'm going to assume you are an undercover cop." I avoid showing a reaction. "Why are you harassing us?"

  "Not harassing anyone. Any harm in wanting to be part of the fun? Or should only rich guys get to fuck pretty women?"

  His dry laugh makes me curl my fists. "Yes, you poor pathetic man," he drawls. "I'm sure you've had it rough. Tell me why you're here and I'll think about sending you back out in the world so you can tell all the other important lawmen."

  I lean back to relieve the pressure in my arms. "Do you really have to ask? You're running a high-end whore house." It's his turn not to react.

  "I give homeless women a chance for a future."

  I nod. "That you do. Only they have to be willing to fuck grabby old rich men to work toward that future. So I wouldn't reach for that guardian angel's halo just yet. Think you might still be stopped at the pearly gates."

  Freestone stands up and paces around the room. "I'll bet there's a big folder about me sitting on your desk that contains almost nothing of importance. Kane Freestone. Biomedical degree, chemist, too insane to work for the pharmaceutical companies. The mad genius. Isn't that what they have written in that folder?" He stands in front of me and stares down.

  "There's a little something about murdering billionaires and kidnapping homeless women too. Right under the mad genius stuff."

  His cool demeanor cracks a tiny bit. His eyes flicker with anger. "I don't know a fucking thing about any murdered billionaires and the women come willingly."

  "Yeah? What about the drugs?"

  "What drugs?"

  I stare up at him. "Every woman in this place is high. They have so many needle marks, They look like human pincushions."

  "I think you'll find the injection the women are taking is not included on any illegal drug list."

  "Or any approved list either," I add.

  "We'll see. Besides, you're out of your jurisdiction."

  "The murders happened in my city. You're taking the women off the streets I keep watch over."

  "Yes, that city of yours is doing a great job taking care of its citizens," he says snidely. "Anyhow, it seems you put yourself in grave danger just to bring down a high-end escort service. Bravo. Or maybe you had something or someone else in your sights when you made this stupid decision. In fact, if you did, then I will actually have just a little more respect for you."

  There's a million ways to interpret his words but only one really stands out. I have to ignore his goading. "Don't know what the fuck you're talking about. I came here to connect the dots between you and the murders. Bringing this shady club down is just the icing on the cake."

  I catch the slight motion of his head, but his guard has me in a stranglehold before I can react. Not that I can do much except sit and take it. He squeezes my neck until I see stars in front of my eyes, then releases me. I suck in a breath.

  "You aren't going to choke it out of me," I grunt with a handful of coughs. "Because I don't know what the hell you want."

  Another flicker of motion and a fist plows into my stomach to push out the breath I just grabbed. It takes me a second to recover. The bindings bite at my wrists as I struggle to work my hands free.

  "Fucker," I say to the guard from the side of my mouth. "It's easy to nail a guy who’s strung to a fucking chair." I look back at Freestone. "Your pitbulls are wasting their energy. I've got nothing else. You already know why I'm here."

  "And the woman?"

  "Look we had a nice bubble bath and a good round of sex. She seemed perfectly happy at the end of it." I wink, knowing full well I'm just going to earn another fist. This time he hooks a rib. I hear it crack. Searing pain shoots through me. I hold my breath until it passes. "I don't know what girl you're talking about," I groan. "Cathy is the only woman I touched tonight. If you don't count that skinny red head who collapsed on my way out. You should feed your girls better. She looked pretty sickly. And if you're mad because I caught her, I'm not going to apologize for that. My mom raised me right. Didn't yours?"

  He takes a long moment to answer. "My mom didn't raise me at all."

  "Well, that explains a lot. Sorry but that red head is all yours. She's not my type."

  Freestone heads to the door. "I'm done here. You can leave him in this room until I decide what to do with him."

  "They'll be coming to get me soon," I call to him.

  "Only if they can find you." The door shuts sharply behind him.

  29

  Angie

  It feels like the walk across the room is three miles. My head is so heavy it's hard to keep it upright. The journey to the bathroom takes another burst of effort. I'm almost convinced that I'm sleepwalking until I flip on the lights and squint at the horrendous reflection in the mirror. The night comes back to me in dots, like pixels on an old computer. As the main image forms in my thickly drugged head, I stumble back and sit quickly on the upholstered bench.

  Was Maddox at the party? Was I at the party? Did I dream the whole thing? I close my eyes. "Please let it be just a bad dream," I say quietly. I nearly slip off the bench when a deep voice answers me.

  "What bad dream?" Kane is carrying a tray with a syringe. It's not filled with the usual amber liquid.

  I put up my hand. "No more. You can't just pump shit into my veins whenever the feeling grabs you. What the hell did you give me last night? That sleep was just a step above death. I don't think an elephant trumpeting through the room would have woken me. And look at me. Maybe I am actually dead. Christ, is that what you've got there? Some drug to animate dead people?"

  His laugh is definitely not laced with humor. "You are dramatic when you're full of sedative." He places the tray on the bathroom counter and sits next to me. "You're not a zombie. Although you are starting to resemble one. I've mixed up something that I think will counteract the appetite suppressant reaction you're having from the nectar."

  "How about if I just stop the nectar?" I say bravely knowing full well that I will crumble the second he pulls the syringe out of the panel.

  "Let's try this
first. I've gone through all my old notes and research. I think this might work."

  "Might work? So I'm your guinea pig?"

  "No guinea pigs do not have lips like this." He rubs his thumb across my bottom lip.

  "You might want to look inside your psyche and reflect because you seem to have an affinity for walking corpses." I press my arm against my stomach. Every morning it churns with hunger, but by the time the plate of food comes, I'm nauseous at the thought of eating.

  "Let's give it a try," I say. "I'm as weak as a butterfly."

  Kane walks across to the counter and picks up the syringe. I cringe at the thought of being poked yet again in my already tender arms. "Couldn't you have concocted something chewable?"

  "If this works, I'll look into it. But it will work faster if it goes straight into your bloodstream."

  I close my eyes and wait for him to finish, too groggy to keep them open. "Why does my head feel so exceptionally terrible?"

  "Could have been all the crying," he says casually as he returns the syringe to the tray.

  I stare at him through bleary eyes and see for the first time that he doesn't look like his usual pulled together self. He's even sporting a five o'clock shadow as if he skipped his razor.

  "What crying?"

  He tilts his head and stares at me. It seems he is trying to gauge whether or not I'm joking with him.

  "Seriously? What was I crying about?" The second I ask it reality sinks in like a bag of sand. It wasn't a dream. It was real. All of it. Maddox. Maddox caught me in his arms. I take a deep breath to quickly brush away the reaction to my sudden epiphany. "I guess I was just feeling sick. I told you I feel as weak as a butterfly." I hold out my thin, pinpricked arms. "A really ugly wingless butterfly." It's hard as hell to keep up the charade and light airy tone, but I can't do anything to compromise Maddox's safety. What the hell is he doing jumping in on my undercover assignment? It's just like him. Tears threaten again as I let my mind wrap around the idea of him.

  I hop up from the bench but sway a second on my feet. "I think that stuff might work. If you head down to the kitchen, tell them to go easy on the rich stuff. It's been too long. Maybe just some eggs and toast." My hopes that the prospect of me eating breakfast will move Kane out of the room quickly are dashed when he leans against the counter and crosses his arms.

  "So you don't remember anything much about last night? Like crying rivers of tears and fainting?"

  More of the night, the short and stunning night, is coming back to me, but I can't let Kane know. "I didn't faint. You must have mistaken me tripping for fainting. Besides, this is your fault. Your nectar is making me shrink into a walking skeleton. I said I didn't want to go to that party. After being sealed up in this room so much, seeing all those people sent me into a brutal panic attack. That's all it was. The tears, my unsteady legs. It was because you made me go to that stupid party."

  He nods. "Well then, I'll make sure never to take you along again."

  "No," I say abruptly, then just as quickly want to erase it. "I mean, yes. That's probably for the best. Unless, of course, you really want me along, then I'll just make sure I don't fall apart." My reversal sounds ridiculous to my own ears but not going to the party means I won't see Maddox again. And he'd never find me in this locked prison room.

  "It's not important now." He lowers his hand to help me up from the bench. "You need to shower. I'll have the cook bring you by some toast and eggs. I might be by to make sure you eat them so don't plan on stuffing them into a pillowcase or under the bench cushion."

  I smile with relief. For now, it seems, my alarming little show at the party has been accepted as a panic attack. "I suppose you were one of those kids who hid the vegetables on your dinner plate under a napkin."

  Kane hands me a clean towel. "There were no vegetables because there was rarely a dinner plate."

  I watch him as he leaves and see it again. That glimmer of sadness, a lost man who was even more lost as a boy. It's part of his history that he never talks about. Sometimes I think it's better if I don't hear it. Something tells me it's a horribly heartbreaking story.

  Kane leaves the room. I'm left to myself. I sit back down hard on the bench and release a mass of air from my lungs. What the hell is going on? Are Maddox and Clark working on a scheme to get me out of Lace Underground? Are they closing in on Freestone? Or is Maddox just working undercover from the club member angle to find out what the hell is going on? And who the hell would be stupid enough to mistake James Maddox for a rich man? The last question makes me laugh, but the mirth stops quickly as more of the night comes back in crisp, clear and painful streaks.

  His face. Shit. Maddox looked as if someone had reached inside and twisted his gut when he saw me. It's hard to blame him.

  I glance in the mirror that is slowly fogging up with condensation. I don't look anything like Angie Tennyson. I gaze down at my arms. I look like a junkie. Another ill timed laugh is answered by the echo of the same pitiful laugh off the bathroom wall. I don't look like a junkie. I am a junkie. Maddox is most likely back wherever he's staying in his charade as a billionaire and telling Clark that I easily succumbed to a drug addiction. To give him a full picture, he'd have to let Clark know I'm Freestone's whore too. Fuck. It's true. All of it is true.

  I step into the shower. The appetite stimulant was working just a few minutes earlier, but these new revelations have wiped the effects away. I feel sick.

  30

  Maddox

  "Very nice of your boss to allow you to come in and clean my cuts." I wince as Cathy presses a cotton ball with stinging disinfectant against the cut on my chin.

  "See, I told you he was all right." She sits back with round blue eyes. "I still don't get why Jason and Oscar beat you up. They usually only rough up members who get out of line with one of the women." She rubs her fingers along my forearm. "You were a perfect gentleman." Her bottom lip pouts out. "A little too gentlemanly if I'm being honest." She smears more disinfectant on the gash.

  I groan. "Sure, kick a man when he's down." I reach up and touch the cut. "Shit, that's going to leave a scar."

  "It sure is and a sexy one at that." Cathy digs a bandage out of her first aid kit. "Luckily we have these cute little butterfly shaped bandages. They'll hold the pieces of skin together. Maybe there won't be too much permanent damage to that beautiful face of yours." She leans forward and kisses me lightly on my swollen lips. "Darn those guys. How dare they touch this face." She snaps her finger. "I'll bet they were just jealous. Or maybe a couple of the more senior, and I mean that in many ways, members asked Oscar and Jason to mess you up so you'd be less appealing." She laughs at her own theory. "The joke is on them. If anything it only makes you look tougher." She crinkles up her nose and lightly touches the cut on my cheek. "Except maybe this gash. It's kind of gross." She sits back down on her knees. "I better clean it too. It's kind of deep. So, what do you think it was?" she asks while preparing another cotton ball.

  "What do I think what was?"

  She blows out a frustrated sigh. "Maybe they hit you just a little too hard. Why do you think they beat you up? Did you say something to make them mad?"

  I shake my head slowly. "Like you said, I was the perfect gentleman. Maybe they were just in a bad mood. Maybe it's been awhile and they just felt like breaking a few heads and mine got in the way."

  Cathy laughs and seems to accept my outlandish explanation until a new realization hits her.

  "Why are you still here?" She glances around at the stacked boxes and old furniture. "And in this terrible room? None of it makes sense."

  "It's not so bad. There's a bathroom and everything. But I think I'm going to ask for a refund on that club fee."

  "Oh my gosh, are you ever serious?" She cleans the cut on my cheek. "I guess maybe they are just waiting for me to get you all cleaned up before they send you on your way."

  "Yeah, that's probably it," I say wryly.

  31

  Angie

/>   It's just scrambled eggs with a touch too much salt and buttered toast but it tastes like heaven. It's the first time I've enjoyed food in months. The stoically quiet woman who has been bringing me my plates as well as carrying away the mostly untouched food, stares at it in shock.

  "It was delicious," I say.

  "Good. I'm glad to see you ate something." She walks out as Kane walks in.

  "Did I just see an empty plate?" he asks as he shuts the door.

  "You did. Gosh, one plate of food and I already feel more human. Why the heck didn't you give me this earlier? You could have spared me a few pounds."

  "It took me that long to formulate it."

  "Once again, the mad genius has scored." His face dims at the nickname. "What? You don't like to be called a mad genius?"

  "Would you?"

  "I'd live with it if I was a genius. But I'm not." I get up from the table and sweep past him but his arm curls around my waist. He pulls me back against his chest and kisses my neck. It sends instant heat to my pussy. Even with the shocking events of the night before, the nectar and his confident, possessive touch make me weak with desire. My stomach is full for the first time in months, and I'm at ease knowing that Maddox seems to have gotten in and out of the club without any problem. I even managed to push aside any thoughts about what he might have been doing with the pretty blonde on the precinct's dime.

  Kane's mouth touches my ear. "I've had a shitty morning. I decided to relieve a little stress with my Sweet Sin."

  I shiver in his arms as the words and the gesture bring back another strange moment from the night before, the moment when he spoke to me in an ominous tone in the hallway outside the party.

  "What did you mean—" I start and pause to lift my arms.