After another quiet drive, we get her locked up in the basement in my house, but this time we make sure to secure her with something not breakable. There will be no getting out of her restraints.
Now it’s time to go back and make sure Brielle is where I left her.
29
BRIELLE
It’s beenover an hour since the guys left, and I’m bored. This penthouse is so clean and fancy that it almost makes my skin crawl. This is nicer than any place I’ve been, aside from Emris’s house, which is over the top as well.
I’m standing by the window—the one I accidentally shot—and take in the beautiful view. I love the city, but only from a distance. Up here, away from everyone, I’m still unsure why Emris wants me. He still hasn’t given me any more answers, at least not the ones I want the most.
After he left, I was restless, so I’ve been wandering around.
I walk to the kitchen, deciding a drink will help. The mini fridge is stocked with a few different types of wine and champagne bottles, followed by rows of shots. I go right to the shots and take two, feeling safe enough to let my guard down for the night. Maybe this will help entertain me while I wait for them to get back.
Whatever fancy liquor is in these bottles goes down easily, a smooth burn that I welcome, and just like that, both are empty, and I feel a tad lighter already. I know there isn’t anything here for me to snoop through, but I do anyway.
The drawers in the kitchen all hold pamphlets for women. How to start over, support groups, and different types of therapy. My chest tightens knowing Emris wasn’t lying about what the top floor of the hotel is used for. So many different things run through my mind, but one thing that stands out was what Emris said the other night about Susie and her involvement.
He didn’t tell me what that was exactly, but there’s no way she’d be involved with human trafficking. Absolutely no way. She became someone we all looked up to at The Whiskey.
Kristie...
Susie told me not to snoop, but why? She seemed serious about it at the time, but I brushed it off. Maybe Emris was right.
No. No, there’s no way. I refuse to believe she’d be capable of something like that. I bet she’s back at the bar, and everything is running as it was when I was there last.
I shove the pamphlets back into the drawer and slam it closed, no longer wanting to entertain these thoughts. Instead, I pick up the room service menu on the counter and look it over.
Food will help. Food always helps.
There’s just one problem—I have no idea what any of this shit is. I flip the laminated menu over, my eyes roaming over rows and rows of fancy dishes until I get to the bottom.
Kids’ menu. Fries and chicken tenders it is.
I pick up the hotel phone to place an order. The line rings twice before someone picks up.
“Hello? Yes, I’d like to place an order for the kids’ chicken tenders and fries, please.” If they had any indication that the meal was for me, they don’t say anything.
The worker on the phone lets me know it won’t take long, and after hanging up, I keep my eyes trained on the phone in front of me. This might be the only time I get to use one with no one else here.
I pick it back up but pause because who do I even call? And what would I say? “Hey, I was kidnapped by a hot ass man who I have feelings for, and I need someone to rescue me?” I close my eyes and take a deep breath.
Images of my mom pass through my mind, and fuck, I miss her so much. I’d do anything to call her again, to hear her voice. Instead of falling into that pile of depression, I dial the one number I have memorized.
The line rings before a familiar voice answers.
“Hello?” Bexley answers, confusion in her tone from not knowing who is calling.
“Bex.” I breathe a sigh of relief as tears flood my eyes.
“Oh my god! Brielle! Where the fuck are you?” She shouts. “A guy and his friend came to the bar a while ago asking about Susie, and he told me you were with him and safe, but I didn’t believe it. Not for a goddamn second! Tell me where you are and I’ll come get you.” She keeps going on and on, and I can’t help but laugh, tears clouding my vision. Fuck, I’ve missed her.
“Bex, chill out. I’m okay. I just wanted to call you and let you know that I won’t be back for a while. If at all. But I need you to know that I’m safe,” I say, trying to ease her stress, but I hope she doesn’t start asking questions that I can’t answer.
“Jesus. Next time, fucking call me, Brielle. I’ve been worried sick.”
“I know. I’m sorry. I don’t have my phone anymore, but I’m working on getting one soon. How’s everything going at The Whiskey?” I ask, leaning back against the arm of the couch.
