God knew Mika could rope her into just about anything, though, as the dates with douchebags met online proved beyond a reasonable doubt.
Liv’s eyes were almost crusted shut and her nose tickled, as if she was coming down with a cold.Great.Or, wait.
It was dust.She was smelling dust.
The second shock was rubbing at her eyes, opening them, and finding herself in a white cotton nightgown that wasn’t hers, not to mention tucked between threadbare but once very high-quality cotton sateen sheets that weren’t hers either.To top it all off, the bed, while being of course a total stranger as well, had the gall to be a curlicued wrought-iron thing straight off a Hammer movie set.
It was a nice enough room, if your taste ran tonot antique, just fucking old.Misty winter sunlight poured through mullioned windows with panes of thick, wavy glass; there was a wardrobe big enough to hold a couple Narnias and an actualvanity, one Mae West would have called too restrained but secretly coveted, if only for the faded red velvet bench and beeswax-polished drawers.
Liv rubbed at her eyes again.What.The ever-loving.Fuck.
For the first time since college, she was just barely awake in a bedroom she didn’t recognize atall.There was a bookshelf holding a bunch of dark, ancient spines frowning over a big leather easy chair, exactly the thing you’d want near a window on a rainy day.You could curl up and listen to the rain while napping or pretending to read; you could actually absorb a romance novel or do a bit of studying, too, if you had some hot chocolate or a good cup of tea.
That was a nice thought, and ordinarily she would have liked it a lot.But she ached all over, so badly she couldn’t tell justwhathad happened to her, and she not only didn’t recognize this place, it smelled like it hadn’t been used for a while.Even the comforter was musty, though everything was painfully clean.Even the rugs on the hardwood—Persian if she ever saw one, orreallygood fakes—were worn down in patches that shoutedsomeone’s actually used me.
Two doors.Three if you counted the closet, pulled ajar so she could see a few desultory wooden hangers on a thick dark rod.The other slightly open door held a brighter gleam off tile and porcelain—a bathroom, probably.
That was good.
It was the third actual door which bothered her the most.The big, thick, heavy one that was probably the only way in or out unless you wanted to defenestrate.It was firmly closed, and she didn’t like it.
No, Liv didn’t like that atall.
First things first.She managed to get her legs free of the covers and shuffled barefoot for the bathroom, smoothing the sleeveless cotton nightgown with her palms.It wasn’t dirty, but it wasn’t hers, and it was way too long.She had to bunch up a good portion of the skirt to keep from tripping, for God’s sake.
On the way there, she glanced out the wavering-glass windows, andthatwas bad news too.It was a long way down to old, winter-naked trees edging what looked like a university quad.Stone walls held ranks of other windows just like hers, and she stared for a few moments, trying to figure out how high up she was.
At least three stories.Great.
It could be fine.There could be a perfectly rational explanation for this.Pee first, then assess the rest of the situationsounded like an excellent plan.
The bathroom was relatively updated compared to the bedroom.At least, the plumbing looked reliable, even if the cast-iron tub could hold two of her along with the scrubbed-dry rust stain dripping from the faucet—the handles were wheels, their spokes thick and polished satin-smooth.The water ran clear in the sink; the toilet was one of those chain-flush numbers, also running clear.
The next step was to try the door that had to lead to a hall.Its knob was cut glass, gleaming and cool; she twisted it, was rewarded with a click.At first she tugged before noticing something unusual—it swungout; she shook her head and pushed.
Nothing.Maybe it was blocked?She pushed harder.
Of course, if it opened outward, the hinges would be in the hall so she couldn’t get to them, and she wouldn’t be able to hide behind its opening and brain someone when they brought her food.
Ifthey brought her food.
Liv stood very still for a few moments.Think, goddammit.Think very carefully.
All she remembered was the alley, a hideous, overpowering smell, and then… something had hit her, right?It was definitely a kidnapping.Maybe they’d used chloroform?Maybe Neal had followed her?
It didn’t matter, she told the panic beginning to squirrel-scratch behind her breastbone.Mika had probably already called the cops by now, since Liv definitely hadn’t been home.All she had to do was survive long enough for someone to find her.If Neal was behind this, he wasn’t very bright.She’d forwarded his pic and profile link to at least two peoplebesidesMika.
But if he wasn’t stupid, if he’d planned for as much, well…
Either way, she needed to get moving.There was no sign of her clothes or purse.It was idiotic, but her missing shoes irritated her almost past belief.
She’d loved those grey suede heels.Now she was probably never going to wear them again.
Liv put her back to the door and closed her eyes, listening.Nothing.It was absolutely silent except for a faint, ghostly dripping from the bathroom faucet.She couldn’t tell from the window if the rest of the place was in disrepair; a place this size had to need landscapers and cleaning staff, right?It looked almost like a school.
Great.I’m trapped in Suburbia College.They take all your blood and replace it with tofu.
A thin, pale laugh fell out of her mouth.It sounded good, like she was amused at the damn situation instead of fighting off steadily rising terror.
