“Open your eyes, good-looking,” she whispered, sounding as if her face was inches from his.
Marc blinked, obeying, and his surroundings came into focus.
“Look at me, sweetheart,” she whispered, leaning over him. “I’m not bad to look at, right?”
“No,” he said automatically. Marc tried swallowing and his tongue seemed stuck to the roof of his mouth.
“I think you’ve slept long enough. Do you want to try sitting up? Maybe a drink of water?”
“Yes.” Marc pushed himself to a sitting position and damn near fell over.
“Hold on. Take it easy, sexy,” she drawled. “It’s going to take a while for your muscles to be your own again.” She laughed and started whistling when she walked away from his side.
Marc closed his eyes, but that didn’t help much, either. So keeping them open, he endured the room spinning until slowly it seemed to stay in place. He was leaning on one elbow, lying on what appeared to be a cement slab raised several feet off the ground. The floor, walls, ceiling were all gray and there were bars ahead of him. He was in some kind of cage that opened up into a larger room.
That’s when it all came back to him. He studied the woman when she returned. She left the cell door open behind her when she entered his small, nondescript prison. Apparently Marc wasn’t considered a flight risk at the moment.
“Here you go, hon. Drink this.” She held a small paper cup up to his mouth.
He wanted to down it more than he wanted to breathe. It really sucked. He didn’t trust his senses at the moment. When he tried sniffing the contents as she put the side of the cup to his mouth, it smelled too sweet to be water. But he might be smelling her perfume. Marc wasn’t sure.
“Come on. It’s time to get all that brute strength of yours back in order. Boss says so,” she added, snickering as she wrapped her arm around the back of his neck and held him against her breasts while tipping the contents of the cup into his mouth.
If it was water, he was more out of it than he thought. It tasted like really sweet Kool-Aid. Marc let some of it dribble out of his mouth and spit out what hit his tongue before he could swallow it.
“Oh crap,” she hissed, that sweet tone of hers fading when she jumped back.
“Sorry about that,” he breathed, lying back on his cement bed when she let go of him. There were some nasty bruises on the back of his head. He could feel them.
“You know, if you’re going to be difficult about this, the boss is going to do this to you again.” The woman had bleached-blonde hair pulled into a ponytail that fell past the collar of the flowery shirt she wore tucked into comfortable-looking jeans. She put her hands on her hips, looking rather exasperated with him, but then wagged a finger, as if she were reprimanding a child and threatening him with his father coming home and not being pleased. “You need to trust me and cooperate. Trust me, gorgeous, it’s your only option.”
“It’s hard to trust anyone who put me in a cage after beating the crap out of me,” Marc grumbled, not trying to lift his head this time and closing his eyes while trying to do a mental survey of the damage done to him.
The woman walked away from him and he turned his head, opening his eyes far enough to watch her leave his cell. He wasn’t in any shape to try to escape at the moment and she knew that. Marc didn’t doubt for a moment that when he could stand and move around, that cage door would be locked securely every time he was left alone.
“I remember kicking someone in the face. How is he doing?” Marc called out, closing his eyes again and managing to swallow this time.
“His nose is broken, but he’ll live. I’ll let him know you asked about him.”
Marc couldn’t see her but could hear her easily enough. He tried moving to a sitting position again, taking his time and handling the intense pounding in his head when he didn’t fall over.
“Is my Neanderthal back?” she asked, grinning broadly at him when she entered his cell, but she stopped in the doorway without approaching. She held another paper cup in her hand.
“I won’t hurt you.” He noticed her amused look that she’d been giving him since he woke up was gone.
“What makes you say that?” She walked to him with the cup in her hand.
“Because you needed to hear it,” he said, staring at the cup. “What is that stuff?”
“It helps clear the brain and aids in your recuperation.”
“Water does the trick, too.”
“Point taken.” She held the cup out to him. “Drink this and I’ll get you some water.”
Marc took the cup and looked down at the clear liquid inside. It had a really sweet smell to it, but he didn’t know enough about chemicals or medicines to identify what it might be by scent. He put it to his lips and tipped the cup. When she turned from him and headed back out of the cell, Marc crushed the cup in his hand, letting the contents soak his hand.
As he stared at his hand and made a fist, it appeared his mind was once again in charge of controlling his actions. There was a bruise alongside his palm, which possibly he got falling after kicking one of the guards in the face. Marc took a moment to replay his and Jake’s attack on the men who’d brought them down here. Obviously, he and Jake had lost. Marc wondered where Jake and his parents were as he slowly inspected his body, searching for more bruises and any cuts.
He still wore his clothes. Blondie out there apparently hadn’t had too much fun with him while he’d been out cold. Which led to his next question. Exactly how long had be been unconscious? As he ran his hands down his body, it didn’t take more than a second to confirm his next suspicion. He no longer had his cell phone or his gun on him.
“How is our patient doing?”
Marc shot his attention to the cell door, which was still slightly ajar, recognizing the male voice. It was the man who’d brought them in and dismissed them to his goons to be caged up like animals.
“He’s perfect in every way,” Blondie purred, almost sounding as if she wanted to make the man jealous with her praise of Marc.
“Has he fully recovered?” The man’s voice did sound a bit sterner.
“He should be ready to go.”
Marc decided standing would be to his advantage. He’d have company soon enough, and for some reason he wanted to appear ready for whatever plans were in store for him. The sooner he learned what the hell was going on here, the easier it would be to plot their way out of here.
His legs were wobbly and for a moment Marc worried he would hit the ground. The cement floor didn’t look too appealing. He braced himself, putting one foot in front of the other until he was pretty sure he wouldn’t crash and make a fool out of himself.
“Would you look at you?” Blondie grinned at him when she led the way into his cell.
The man who brought him here wasn’t smiling when he followed her in but stopped dead in his tracks in the doorway to the cell and stared at Marc, his lips parting as if he was shocked to see Marc standing there.
“What dosage did you use?” the man whispered, his astonishment apparent as he continued gawking at Marc.
Blondie walked up to Marc, searching his face and letting her gaze travel down him before taking the crushed cup out of his hand. She frowned when she touched it, noticing how sticky it was from its contents having been squeezed out of it.
“How are you feeling, Marc?” she asked, looking at him warily while holding the crushed cup gingerly between her fingers. She held another cup in her other hand and held it out to him. “As promised, your water.”
Marc gave her a gallant nod, accepting the cup and bringing it to his lips. It was water this time and he downed it with one gulp, crushed the cup, and handed it to her.
“Never felt better,” he told her, winking but hardening his expression when he focused on the man still using her as a guard as he remained behind her. “Why am I here?”
“Because you started a fight.” The man straightened, some of his cockiness reappearing, although he didn’
t enter the cement cage. “Although your skills are commendable, you’ll need to learn to attack only when I tell you to.”
“Is that so?” Marc tilted his head, wondering if the man really believed he could train Marc to attack on command. “I tend to attack when someone tries putting me in a cage.”
The man shrugged as if what Marc said didn’t matter. “Your quarters will improve once you’ve mastered some of the basic rules.”
“You’re going to learn King men don’t take orders very well.” Marc shifted his attention to Blondie, who seemed fascinated by the crushed cups in her hands. She looked up at him the moment he glanced down at her, and her eyes grew large when he winked.
“You still seem on edge,” she said, narrowing her gaze on him. “Maybe it’s taking longer for your medicine to take effect than usual.”
“Maybe you need to increase his dosage.” The man walked away from the doorway, leaving her alone in the cell with Marc. “Don’t waste my time by calling me down here until he’s properly prepared.”
A door opened and slammed closed, causing an echo around them.
“I can’t imagine you find these quarters that appealing.” Blondie walked out of the cement cage as well, this time closing the cage door and twisting a lock on the outside of it. “Next time you see Claude you’d be smart to be a bit more hospitable. Or I could increase your dosage.”
She knew he hadn’t taken whatever was in that first cup. He guessed its contents were supposed to make him behave in a certain way. Blondie had just given him an option–be hospitable or be given a higher dosage. That told him two things. The sweet-smelling drink he’d been given would make him nicer, agreeable, if that’s what Blondie meant by hospitable. Also, Blondie wasn’t completely loyal to Claude, her boss. Maybe she thought he was a prick, too. Both were small bits of information Marc filed away for the time being.
Marc walked up to the bars and stared into a large room beyond his cell. It looked like a laboratory. There were cages similar to the one he was in surrounding the room. All of them appeared to be empty.
“What is this place?” He hung his arms over the crossbar and watched Blondie as she sat at a large worktable and worked at a computer.
“There really aren’t any options for you if you don’t cooperate,” she said, ignoring his question. “Right now, your dosage levels are really low. If you continue refusing to go with the program they’ll be upped until you’re nothing but a walking zombie. Is that what you want?” She glanced over at him, raising one eyebrow.
“You led him to believe I’d taken whatever it was in that cup you wanted me to have. You did that for a reason.”
Blondie was damn good at flirting but equally good at looking seriously pissed. “It’s my job,” she hissed, glaring at him. Letting out a puff of air, she stood and ran her fingers down her ponytail. Blondie came around the table and faced him. “I don’t need drugs to know what to do. Behave and do what you’re told and maybe you won’t, either. But believe me, if I double the dosage you supposedly just took, you’ll become so compliant you would lick the drops of that dose off the floor of your cell if I asked you to.” She gave him a hard stare, which under the bright fluorescent lights that weren’t in his jail cell, made her look a lot older. Maybe not quite as old as his mother, although his mom was a much better-looking woman. “Do you really want the rest of your family seeing you like that?” she asked.
“Your compassion is touching.” Marc wasn’t offended when she turned her back on him and returned to her computer. He took a moment to run his hand over the outside bars, trying to reach for the door handle but realizing his wrist was too thick to pass between the bars. “Remember, blondie. I refused to take the drug you gave me. If I don’t take one dose, how am I going to take two?”
She slipped her hand under the table and pulled out a gun, pointing it at his face. Marc froze, focusing on her face and not the weapon aimed between his eyes.
“There are other ways to administer drugs than in a cup, Neanderthal,” she informed him. “I could give you a lethal dose this very second with a twitch of my finger. It wouldn’t matter whether you decided to take it, or not.”
“Point taken.” Marc raised his hands in surrender. He decided not to breach the point that she didn’t turn him in for not taking the drug. Blondie had some compassion but apparently valued her job. “So is there any harm in telling me why I’m here?”
She sighed, looking at him over her shoulder. Blondie wasn’t bad looking. She was working for the wrong side, though, and her loyalty to her boss was apparent. That took away any appeal whatsoever.
“You’ll find out when Claude decides you’re ready to know.” She continued studying Marc over her shoulder for another moment. “You’re wrong, though. Claude isn’t an idiot. If you continue mocking him every time you see him you’ll lose credibility in his eyes. Trust me, Neanderthal. You don’t want that to happen.”
Marc didn’t see Claude for the rest of the day, or what he assumed to be a day. Blondie left the lab for a while and returned after quite a bit of time had passed, carrying a tray with food, which she left for Marc. She also left a bucket for him in the corner of the cell. He didn’t need to ask what that was for. The next time she entered the lab she ignored his questions altogether or dodged answering them. When she left she turned out the lights, leaving him in the dark. Marc drifted off to sleep, and dreamed about London.
“Neanderthal, wake up.” Blondie stood over his cement bunk staring down at him, holding a Styrofoam cup. “I’ve got a drug I bet you would love to have.”
He smelled the coffee and pulled himself up, reaching for the cup and taking it as he grunted his response. Blondie left the cell and locked the door, not saying anything and disappearing from his sight. The humming of computers and start-up music as she brought the room to life removed the death-like silence he’d endured all night, making it seem as if he’d slept in a tomb. Since he was in an underground cell, he figured his analogy to be damn close. Marc picked up the bucket she’d left the night before, ignoring its contents, and placed it in the corner of his cell so he could have his back to her when he relieved himself.
“I’m going to give you a choice.” Blondie didn’t wait for him to finish his personal business before she started talking. “You won’t get many of these, so you might want to enjoy the moment and take your time considering before answering.”
Marc finished his business, left the bucket where it was, and turned to face her as he zipped his pants. Her gaze dropped to his hands and she took her time returning her attention to his face before continuing.
He kept his expression bland, waiting for her to continue. He hadn’t considered yesterday how well set up Blondie’s lab was. Marc wondered how long it had been down here.
“You’re leaving here this morning. Claude’s reviewed your file and has decided you’re ready.”
Since nothing had changed since Marc had last seen the man, he could only imagine what Blondie had fabricated in his file to convince Claude that Marc was where they wanted him. He walked over to his coffee that he’d left on his cement bed, anxious for her to continue. He didn’t like this solitary confinement. He was bored out of his mind. He needed to know his family was okay. And being moved might give him a chance to escape.
“Before you join the others he wants you cleaned up. Honestly, I can’t say I blame him.” She wrinkled her nose and Marc noticed freckles he hadn’t seen before. “There is a small bathroom over there,” she continued, nodding in the direction she indicated. “I can handcuff you and lock you in there and you can shower.”
“With handcuffs on?” he asked, sipping his coffee.
“Yes. With handcuffs on.” Blondie walked from the computer over to a cabinet on the wall and used a small key on her key chain to open it. “Or,” she said, pulling several things out of the cabinet and closing it with her foot, “you can stay in there and I can give you sponges to wash yourself down.”
She plac
ed what looked like folded clothes on the large table and held up handcuffs in one hand and a large yellow sponge in the other.
“You’re going to handcuff me?”
“I can call for reinforcements if I need them.” She didn’t bat an eye.
“I’ll take the shower.”
Blondie nodded and put the sponge next to the clothes. She walked up to the cell and unlocked his cage door, stepped aside to let him walk out, then reached for his hand. It would be too easy to knock her off balance and take her keys. Almost too easy.
“How many people are watching and listening right now?” he asked, whispering. After pulling off his shirt, he held out his hands so she could cuff him.
She didn’t look up as she put the cuffs on him, but he saw her smile. “One that I know of,” she said, also keeping her voice down.
“How many will watch me shower?”
“One.” This time she did grin at him.
He wouldn’t say it was the best shower he ever had, but Marc felt incredibly rejuvenated when he was led up a narrow flight of dark gray stairs later. The door at the top of the flight opened before he reached it, and Marc stepped out into the plush office he and Jake had entered the day before when they’d first arrived. Marc immediately spotted the door that led to where his parents and brother might still be.
Marc had hoped his family would be wherever he was being sent. He’d be a lot less distracted if he knew they were all right. He hid his disappointment when Blondie escorted him into the large room they’d first seen when they arrived, and they weren’t in the pretentious office. Claude sat behind his desk, giving Marc only a moment’s attention. There were three other men in the room all dressed identically to Marc. Apparently the black slacks and shirt he’d been given to wear, which to his surprise fit him perfectly, was some kind of uniform. The other men in the room didn’t bat an eye or glance at Marc when he joined them.
“Now that we’re all here, we’ll begin.” Claude didn’t stand up but rested his elbows on his desk and pressed his fingers together, looking almost as if he might start their meeting with a prayer.
Get Lucky Page 25
