The Prisoner(21)

“Private jet?”

He gave me an amused smile via the rearview mirror. “You don’t expect Mr. Hawthorpe to travel cattle-class, do you?”

I laughed, warmed by his smile. “No, but I expected that I would. I thought he’d be going business-class or maybe even first-class. Do you ever go with him when he travels,” I asked hopefully, “to drive him around when he gets there?”

“No, he usually hires a local driver.”

“You’ll be having a couple of days off, then.”

“I will,” he agreed.

“Have you got anything nice planned?” I asked, then blushed. My questions were becoming personal.

“Not really. I might have planned something if I’d known in advance that Mr. Hawthorpe would be going away. I guess I’ll just hang out.”

I almost regretted it then, going to Vegas. And then berated myself for harboring stupid fantasies. Even if I hadn’t been going with Ned, the likelihood of Hunter suggesting we hang out together while our boss was away was less than zero.

“Well, if you want to hear all about Vegas when I get back, let me know,” I heard myself saying. Then steeled myself, waiting for the inevitable brush-off.

“I might just do that.” He turned to look at me. “Maybe we could go for a drink.”

My heart somersaulted. “Maybe we could.”

We picked Ned up at his home in Wentworth. The house was impressive, a huge white building with pillars and a balcony behind ornate black gates. He sat in the back next to me, and all conversation between Hunter and me ceased.





CHAPTER TWENTY-THREE


PRESENT

I open my eyes and for a split second, I think I’m in my room in Carolyn’s apartment. But when it remains dark, everything comes rushing back.

I’m cold, I’ve been cold since I was brought back to this black-as-night room. When was that? It’s hard to tell when they haven’t brought me anything to eat. I keep telling myself that they will eventually feed me. If they wanted me to die, they’d have killed me for trying to escape.

My blanket is gone. I searched everywhere for it but I couldn’t find it. They must have taken it away as punishment.

How did they find me so quickly? The man hadn’t shouted when I locked him in, but the other abductor, the one who grabbed me in the kitchen, hadn’t stumbled on me by chance, he’d come prepared with the blanket. He must have known within seconds that I’d escaped, which meant that he must have been alerted—because of course, they must have cell phones or walkie-talkies, something I’d stupidly failed to consider.

I push away the wave of depression that threatens to engulf me. I’m alive. I might not have succeeded completely, but I did manage to escape from this room. And I have knowledge about the house where I’m being kept—next to this room, there’s a room with double doors, next to that, a kitchen.

The kitchen itself—a large room, a table down the center, chairs. And at the far end, glass doors leading to the outside, the sliding sort. If only I’d been able to reach them. But blinded by the light, I’d lost precious time waiting for my eyes to adjust. Next time, I promise myself. Because there will be a next time.

I don’t want to score another line on the wall, but I do it anyway. Day ten, Monday, the twenty-sixth of August, the day of my failed escape.

I leave the bathroom, return to my mattress. It hits me then, that I’m back here, back where I started, and I kick the wall in frustration.





CHAPTER TWENTY-FOUR


PAST

I strapped myself into my seat, my fingers fumbling on the buckle, nervous and excited at the same time, hardly able to believe that I was on my way to Las Vegas.

A hostess brought champagne.

“No, thank you,” I said, smiling at her.

Ned lifted the two glasses from the tray.

“Go on,” he said, handing me a glass. “You need to celebrate your first-ever flight. But there are soft drinks, if you prefer.”

“No, this is great.”

He clinked his glass against mine. “Here’s to the first of many flights.”

“Thank you.” I took a sip. The sensation of bubbles bursting on my tongue added to my excitement. It seemed surreal to be sitting on a private jet, drinking champagne. I wished Carolyn could see me. She didn’t even know I was on my way to Vegas; I had wanted to call her, but in the rush to get ready, I hadn’t had time.

I took my phone from my bag and turned to Ned.

“Would you mind taking a photo for me to send to Carolyn?”

“Of course.” He put his phone down on the table in front of him. “Do I know Carolyn?”

I raised my glass and smiled for the camera. “You met her at the Exclusives party. She’s a friend of Justine and Lina’s.”

“Ah yes, I remember now.”

I sent the photo to Carolyn, with the caption Guess where I am—on my way to Las Vegas! In a private jet, no less!

A message flashed on the screen of Ned’s phone. Out of the corner of my eye I saw a thumbs-up emoji from someone called Amos Kerrigan.

Ned picked up his phone, looked at the message, then drained his glass. “You’ll need to switch your phone to airplane mode,” he said, turning his off. “We’ll be taking off soon.”