by L B Wyatt
“Ginger!” they called.
Seriously? Veronica almost laughed. She knew that couldn’t be the girl’s real name.
They stopped and turned in time to see another man coming their way. He was about Veronica’s height, stocky and dressed similarly to the other men in a suit with a bright blue tie. His face was square, his hair dark and a heavy beard covered his jaw.
“Boss is asking for her now,” the man informed. “I’ll take her from here.” He looked down at Ginger for a second while she processed the news.
“Already?” She smacked her gum again and glanced over at Veronica as if trying to decide something.
“Yes,” the man ground out. “You’re excused. Return to the elevators,” he ordered.
Ginger shrugged her shoulders and headed off. She even walked like that chick off Roger Rabbit. Veronica chewed her lip for a second with the name of that character right on the tip of her tongue.
The man’s thick fingers wrapping around her bare arm brought Veronica back to her current, harsh reality. She could smell his overpowering cologne and grimaced as she followed his lead slightly downwind from him. They walked down a long hallway, through a foyer area and then the length of another hall that looked different than the one they had just left. This hallway was wider and looked more like the administrative side of a hotel. By the time they stopped outside a large wooden door, Veronica had a slight headache from breathing in such a stout fragrance.
The man pulled her closer to his body as if he were afraid she might try to make a run for it and knocked heavily on the door. He glanced sidelong at her and Veronica ignored his admiration of her voluptuous assets. There was a deep voice on the other side that beckoned them in and Veronica soon found herself standing in a massive office that looked like it belonged in an earlier time.
The amount of wood casings and furniture in the room darkened it immensely, giving it a masculine appearance. There was an oversized dark brown leather couch to the right opposite an enormous mahogany desk with elaborate carvings down the sides and in the front. The walls were even dark wooden shiplap with several expensive paintings adorning them. In the far corner there was a globe of the world that was large enough it stood on its own brass stand and beside it was a Victrola turntable complete with the handle to wind it on the side.
Veronica’s attention was drawn from the time warp the room created to the man responsible for it sitting behind the detailed desk.
“Good evening.” His voice carried across the room, demanding attention.
He was in his fifties at least with salt and pepper hair cut close to his head. His face was sharp with higher cheekbones and a neatly trimmed goatee. He stood up to greet her, revealing gray slacks, a crisp white shirt and suspenders.
Veronica wasn’t sure what era this guy thought he was from, but somehow the look worked for him. She noticed his matching gray suit jacket slung over the back of the dark leather executive chair he’d just stood from. Her eyes lightly swept over the contents of the desk.
No computer. Just a brass paperweight, a couple of leather bound notebooks and a custom made letter opener with some fancy kind of wooden handle. She was disappointed to see a luxury style pen instead of a quill.
Her eyes lifted to meet his and she knew this man was the Barber. She didn’t know what his real name was, but she knew she was standing before someone of extreme power and influence. She saw his dark blue eyes examine her from head to toe. They stopped as they reached hers and his face eased into a smile.
“I wasn’t sure what I would do,” he said, walking from around his desk. He approached her slowly and nodded his head to the man still holding Veronica’s arm. He instantly let go and retreated to the door.
“I don’t know what you mean,” she offered after a moment of silence. It was clear he was baiting her, and normally she didn’t play such games, but now was the exception. She had to play along even if her pride protested.
“They told me you were stunning,” he replied cryptically. “I had to see for myself.”
He lifted his hand and she noticed a couple heavy gold rings on his fingers. She didn’t shiver as he traced the back of his hand down her arm, but her skin betrayed her when goose bumps sprung up. She wanted to scratch that smug look off his face. If he only knew how bad she wanted to throw up on his patent leather shoes, he wouldn’t be grinning so wide.
“They weren’t wrong. You are a sight to behold. But not many of your kind have enough nerve to walk through my door,” he continued.
Veronica’s heart accelerated. Damn it, she thought. How in the hell was her cover blown so quickly? She’d been so careful. Then a thought flashed across her mind of Claude taking her glass before she finished…
Fingerprints.
The Barber now knew more about her than she would probably ever know about him. She clenched her jaw for being so reckless. She would like to have blamed it on Aniya’s surprise visit, but Veronica knew better. She’d already ordered that drink before company arrived. This one was on her. She should have known an operation as big as this one wasn’t going to just let anyone off the street walk through the doors.
“Have a seat. Let’s talk,” he instructed.
Veronica walked toward the sofa, but she wanted distance between them rather than to obey his orders. She remained standing, but she turned to face him.
“What did you come here looking for, detective?” he questioned directly.
“Answers,” she said quickly.
“I hate to disappoint, but I probably don’t have too many of those I’m willing to hand out.”
“I understand.” And she did. She wasn’t a total fool. She knew he wasn’t going to hand over information just because she asked him to.
Her words caused him to pause before he rounded his desk. He stopped at the edge, his eyes dancing over her with wonderment. “I’m feeling generous today, Veronica. I’ll give you one. One answer.”
Veronica knew it wasn’t going to be a freebie. With men like him, there was always a price to pay. She considered her options (and there weren’t many), but she needed to buy herself some more time. She turned slightly, walking closer to a built-in shelf lined with classic novels.
“I’m not here on official duty,” she said airily. “I was suspended a few days ago.”
The Barber laughed, scooting his bottom back on the edge of his desk and folding his hands in his lap while he stared at her. “Is that so? What for?”
Veronica only spared him a glance before running her manicured fingertips over the book spines. “For asking Senator Dwight Ross a series of uncomfortable questions in front of his buddies during a round of golf.”
Her response earned her another chuckle. “That takes guts, Veronica. It truly does. I suppose your investigation into the senator brought you here, didn’t it?” he assumed.
She answered with another short look. She continued to look over the titles, but her mind wasn’t on the stories in front of her.
“Ross is a worm,” The Baber said off-handedly. “A man without an ounce of integrity.”
Veronica turned then, facing him fully and walked a step closer. “I agree.”
“I control him, you know?” The Barber said casually, as if this fact might impress her. “Him and every other man who thinks they have power in this city. They all answer to me.”
Veronica raised a doubtful brow, her expression inquiring. “That’s quite a claim.”
The Barber narrowed his eyes. “It’s a fact,” he assured. He raised his hand and placed a finger on top of the leather book closest to him on the desk. “This is my leverage. This is my world,” he stated, his face was intense at first but swiftly shifted back to amusement.
Veronica took another step closer, crossing her arms. “It just looks like a notebook to me.”
The Barber shook his head, standing up and bridging the gap between them. He placed his hands on her shoulders and the look in his eyes shifted to something not welcomed. Veronica
stood still, though her expression hardened a little.
“I own every name in it,” he whispered. His hand roamed over her skin, down her back and across her neck. “And now I own you.” He applied just enough pressure around her throat to royally piss her off. “What’s your question, Veronica? You still haven’t asked me anything.”
She reached up, prying his hands off her neck and holding his wrists away from her. Her eyes were defiant and it disturbed her to discover this was something he liked. She could tell by the twinkle in his eye and the smirk that played on his lips.
“Do you know where Amelia Mason is?”
The Barber slowly shook his head. “I do not,” he answered. “I wish I did, though. She was quite the money maker. I don’t get many good girls like her. Wholesome.” He said the word with delight before pulling his hand free from her hold and grabbing her around the waist. Veronica resisted for a second, but struggling only made him press her tighter to his chest.
“Bennett,” he called, his gaze never leaving Veronica’s. The guard at the door walked closer at command. “Take her to the suite. She won’t be placed with the others in the auditions.” He paused for a moment to run his finger over her cheek. “She’ll be added to my own personal collection.”
Bennett took Veronica by the arm and the Barber reluctantly let her go. She was flushed as the guard pushed her out into the hall. She took in a deep breath, her mind racing at full speed. What was she supposed to do now?
Play along, her mind answered. Play along until you see an opportunity.
So she walked, forcing each step to be as graceful and dignified as she could. When she dared to look behind her, the Barber was standing at the doorway to his office, watching her walk away. He was looking for a reaction. For something exciting. He expected her to cause a scene or make a run for it. She would do no such thing. She’d been foolish enough for one night.
Bennett wasn’t gentle with her. Veronica wanted to pull away and kick him in the crotch, but she let him drag her down the hall away from the Barber’s office and into a different section of the underground hotel. The hallway was inconspicuous, looking much like the other labyrinth style corridors except these rooms were further spaced apart, which indicated to her they were much larger than the other ones.
Bennett stopped outside 1B and swiped a card over the door handle. It beeped and the light above the handle flashed green for a second. He opened the door, turned on the light and shoved her roughly inside.
“Behave,” he ordered before briskly shutting the door back.
As Veronica stood there staring after the brute, she was slightly alarmed to see the door did not have a knob on the inside. Instead there was a small, flat black box where a handle should have been. She stood there for a second, Livi’s words echoing through her head again and sounding a bit more ominous this time around.
He’ll never let you go…
This room wasn’t set up to let someone go, that was for sure. Exhaling slowly, Veronica turned to see what she had to work with. The room was just as extravagant as she’d expected. It was large with an en suite bathroom. The bed was a California King with a hundred pillows piled on top of satin sheets. A gas fireplace was opposite of the bed, right below a massive flat-screen TV that took up most of the wall. Her eyes were drawn even further upward at the small device in the corner of the room recording her every move.
Minimalistic was a good word, and she knew exactly why. This room was designed to keep the person hostage and reduce the risk of creating any weapons of defense. Nevertheless, she wandered to the bathroom to check things out. She was impressed with the size of the tub and two person shower. The showerhead was bigger than a dinner plate and looked inviting. If she wasn’t so on edge right now, she might have considered giving it a test. Her hands ran down the cool marble of the double vanity up against the wall with a massive ornate mirror hanging above it. She tapped the mirror, just to see if it was real glass and not a two way. She wouldn’t be surprised if someone was waving on the other side she couldn’t see. But it appeared to be real and she let out a small sigh of relief. Even if that relief was short-lived.
Her eyes dropped to her own reflection and she stood there for a long while just looking herself in the eye. She was ashamed of herself for being so reckless, so foolish. She had made it easy on the Barber to keep her here. She hadn’t brought any forms of ID, and had told no one where she was going. It was like she was itching to be kidnapped and murdered.
She drew her bottom lip between her teeth and gnawed as she wondered when she had developed such a self-destructive personality. She hadn’t always been like this. When her father would take her out sailing, she was cautious and obedient. She was always afraid of disappointing him. Back then she would have never put a toe out of line and now…well, now she had just jumped overboard.
Sighing, she tore her eyes away from herself. She went back into the main room and felt a surge of anger course through her veins. Her eyes darted upward at the camera in the corner and she refused to do nothing. She kicked her heels off and grabbed the leather straight-back chair from the opposite corner of the room and dragged it under the surveillance device. Once she was there, she climbed up and made a grab for it. Her hands barely reached, so she climbed up the back of the chair. It tipped backwards just as her hand took hold of camera. She felt the chair leave her feet and for a second, she lingered in the air. Then the camera made a cracking sound and it pulled from the wall, cable and all behind it and Veronica dropped.
She wasn’t as graceful as she had wanted to be when she hit the carpet, but at least she didn’t fall on her ass. She watched the light flicker out of the camera, but she smashed it against the wall for good measure anyway.
After the thrill was over, she turned back around and thought about slamming the chair into the big screen television. She stopped herself, though. Pace yourself, V, she coached inside her head. There was no telling how long she would be stuck inside these four walls. She was going to have to save some entertainment for later.
She walked over to the bed, but she didn’t sit on it. She shuddered at the mere thought. There was no telling what kind of crimes had been committed on that mattress or what kind of bodily fluids would show up under a black light. Her eyes swept over it, looking at the wallpapered walls. How much blood had been wiped from them?
She turned and lowered herself to the floor. She leaned her back against the post of the bed and let out a deep breath. All that was left was waiting.
Waiting for the viper to strike.
Chapter Thirteen
Veronica wasn’t one for being sentimental. She wasn’t into nostalgia and the emotions that rode along with the dreaded trips down memory lane. So she wasn’t entirely sure what had brought on the memory—other than the idea of never making it out of this underground hell alive. She had been considering tactics to free herself and some of them did result in her escaping alive, but none of them involved her escaping intact. Despite the scenarios she entertained inside her mind, Veronica knew if she stayed in this place, she would never be whole again. As if she regarded herself as whole to start with. Still, despite what all life had thrown at her, there were far harsher things waiting on the other side of that door. And perhaps that was what had prompted her to stop playing escape room and just escape from reality for a while by reminiscing about something slightly more pleasant.
She wasn’t sure how much time had gone by, but it was enough for her to become sleepy and her head to fall back on the side of the bed. Her eyes were closed, but she wasn’t completely asleep. She was half-awake thinking about Arc again. She was thinking about the Christmas that changed her entire perspective about him. She had been in a small hotel room in Italy, working one of the first big assignments on her own. She had been terrified, but she wouldn’t have told a soul that and she still wouldn’t to this day. She could still feel the atmosphere in that stuffy little room and how surprised she’d been one night when she thought she
heard something or someone outside her door. She had been prepared for the worst, throwing the door open with her gun cocked and loaded. But the hall had been empty except for a small, elegantly wrapped box and a card at her feet.
She quickly picked the package up and slipped back into her room. After locking the door, she shook the box gently, realizing it was some sort of liquid. She opened the small envelope and pulled out a stark white card with black writing in the center that simply said: Wear it for me.
The only hint of a signature was a capitol A under the words. Her heart had hammered hard as she tore back the thick gold wrapping paper revealing a bottle of expensive perfume. Veronica could recall how awestruck she had been with the gesture. She also recalled being a little confused as to how in the world she could wear a perfume for a man she had never and would never meet.
But she had worn it…
Veronica was ashamed of herself. She had worn it every time she was on a mission. It had become her signature. The fragrance was still strong in her senses, pulling back memories she had tried to bury. With every application of that costly scent, her heart grew hopeful of a personal encounter with her boss that never occurred. Each time only led to disappointment and anger at herself. Much like the anger she was experiencing now. Even more shamefully, she had kept the bottle long after it was empty. She told herself it was just a symbolic gesture to remind herself of Arc and how everything he’d promised her was as empty as that bottle.
She drew in a deep breath when she heard the door beep. Reality came crashing back down on her and Veronica stood quickly, composing herself and bracing for any potential threat that might come through that threshold.
She was both relieved and disappointed to see Ginger walk in with her arms full of things. She made sure to close the door behind her with her foot and offered Veronica a smile.
“The auditions are over!” she announced with some delight. “They were rough. I think you had the boss all wound up or something. They took longer than usual.”
