Red Handed(35)

The door across her hall creaked open, and looking polished as ever, her red hair flowing over her shoulders, out came Cassandra. She smirked as she noticed Danielle. “Need help packing your suitcase? If you need a ride, I’d be happy to call a taxi for you.”

There was no mistaking the fact that Cassandra was a class-A bitch, but had she left the box in her room? Could she be working with the kidnappers?

“I’m not the one who Master Cole is planning on speaking to about her commitment,” Danielle said, curling her shaking hands into fists at her hips.

Surprise registered in Cassandra’s eyes before she concealed it. “Oh, that? You obviously don’t know how things work around here. I’m what’s known in the BDSM community as a ‘brat.’ I make trouble because the Masters get off on punishing me. If you knew anything about BDSM, you’d get it.” She raked her gaze down Danielle’s body. “You’re a poser. I don’t understand why Master Cole allowed you to train.”

Danielle took a steadying breath. “I don’t have to explain myself to you, nor do I answer to you.” Instead of retreating, Danielle stalked closer to her, lowering her voice and speaking nonchalantly. “And you’re not a brat. You’re a selfish little girl playing adult games. Those Masters who you believe get off on your behavior? They see right through you.” She twirled around and went back into her room, shutting the door.

Standing with her back against it, she spied a pill bottle halfway under the bed. Had that been there before?

She scooped it up. There was no label, but it was definitely a prescription pill bottle. She held it up to the light and saw two pills inside.

Her cell phone rang.

Trembling, she went to the nightstand and lifted her phone, not surprised to see the call was from an unlisted number. “Hello?”

“They’re sleeping pills. You need to get DeMarco to bring you to his bed, and then you can drug him in order to search his residence for the box.”

“Where am I supposed to hide the pills when I’m walking around half-naked all the time?”

He laughed. “A Tiffany box for a Tiffany girl. Hide them in your locket.”

She wiped the tears from her cheek. “Why did you cut off Tasha’s finger? I’ve done everything you’ve asked.”

He hesitated. “Tick-tock. We thought we’d remind you of the seriousness of the situation. Don’t get too comfortable with DeMarco. He wouldn’t help you even if he knew.”

“I need assurances that Tasha’s okay.”

“Well, you’re not going to get it. Just be grateful we didn’t send her whole hand.”

The call went dead before she could say another word.

Pacing the room, she dumped the tiny oval pills in her hand. She checked the identifying markings and looked it up on her phone’s web browser.

The results popped up immediately. It was a sedative used to treat insomnia and dissolved in water. She read over the information, including the dosage instructions. Two pills were more than generally prescribed, but it wouldn’t cause any lasting health issues.

She breathed a sigh of relief. Her stepmother had taken sleeping aids for years without any problems.

The message from the kidnappers had made it clear. Time was running out.

After checking that the door was locked and turning out the lights, she quickly undressed and padded naked to her bed, then slid beneath the sheets, drawing the blanket up to her chin. She closed her eyes and tried to relax, but as exhausted as she was, sleep eluded her.

She didn’t feel safe. How could she when the lock on the door couldn’t prevent someone from breaking into her room?

Hours passed, and the sound of the voices of the trainees returning to their rooms ceased. Eventually, her limbs grew heavy, and she closed her eyes.

The next thing she knew, warm breath fanned her face and a hand brushed over her breast. She arched into it, her nipple pebbling under the touch, heat suffusing her body. As she woke, her fuzzy mind tried to remember who was touching her. The last thing she remembered was being in her bed. Alone.

Her eyes shot open. The room was completely dark, but she sensed someone beside her. Felt a hand on her breast and the cold, sharp press of a blade against her throat.

Panic filled her, sending her heart racing. “Who’s there?”

The hand stilled, followed by a long pause.

“I’m your secret admirer,” the unknown man whispered. “Shh. You don’t want to alert anyone I’m in here. After all, you can’t tell DeMarco why you’re really here.”

Stifling a cry for help, she swallowed, her throat dry with fear. His voice didn’t sound familiar, but she couldn’t be sure between him whispering and the whir of her pulse in her ears. “Are you the one who left me the box?”