“Should have done a better job of hiding those,” I squeak.
His tongue darts out as he licks his lips. Is he changing his mind about the… gulp…you know?
Then his hand darts out to grab them.
He turns, taking my clothes and my last connection to the outside world with him.
The door slams behind him.
A key scrapes in the lock…
4
GRAHAM
Irest my forehead against the smooth wood of the closet door.
Fuck, I mouth silently, then I bend over, letting out a silent scream.
Fuck! What the fuck is wrong with me?
I have a girl here, trapped in my penthouse.
A girl I kidnapped off the fucking street like a lunatic.
Kidnapped.
The dark thing in me likes it—likes having her prisoner, liked the scared panting, her breath hot through the wool of my slacks, close to my—
Fuck!
I slam my hand against the wall.
Hear her in the closet make a scared little noise.
I need to get out of here. The penthouse is far up above the city—sure, I have a view of Central Park, but it is still New York.
I hear the police sirens down below.
They know. Frank knows.My heart pounds.I’m going to go to prison with Dad—
But the sirens pass by on the way to some other crisis.
Someone had to have seen me take her, right? I mean, that was the worst kidnapping ever. She almost got away.
I wish she had.
Why didn’t you just let her leave?I berate myself as I take her dirty clothes to the laundry room and stuff them in the washer.
Her bags—the evidence—are still in my car. I hurry down, thankful that this is a high-end building, so of course there aren’t any cameras in my private parking area or my private elevator. Her bags are strewn about the car. Her purse has spilled—makeup and her phone under the seat. I shovel the girlie accessories into the leather bag.
Her phone has several missed calls and text messages. There’s one still hovering on the screen. I press it, and it lets me type a response without unlocking it.
(Graham) Dani:I’m ok. c u tmr
That’s how girls text, right?
I feel sick. The slight stench of exhaust in the parking deck makes me want to vomit.
