Confer, Lorelei - Deadly Deception (Siren Publishing Classic) Read online

  Amanda finally opened the door and sauntered into the small living area, with a cat-who-swallowed-the-canary smirk on her face.

  “Amanda, I’m outta here. I need to get home and get my run in, so I’ll see yo—”

  “No, no, you can’t go yet. You have to stay. The pizza will be here any minute. Please, I insist.”

  Isabella wanted to forget the pizza and leave right away. Something was wrong, terribly wrong. Amanda wasn’t normal. She could see it, feel it, and she wasn’t comfortable anymore. But she was torn. She wanted to see it through and not hurt Amanda’s feelings by leaving without eating, so she acquiesced. “Well, okay, but just long enough for a slice of pizza. Then, I really need to go.”

  “Sure that’s okay, I understand,” Amanda said, her gaze darting around the room.

  “Do you want a beer or something else to drink?”

  “No, I’m good, but thanks anyway.”

  There was a quick knock at the door. The door opened and the smell of pizza filled the room with a mixture of baked cheese, Italian spices, and a man’s cologne. The man who had brought the pizza was tall and rangy, wearing a sports coat over his T-shirt and jeans. His face was attractive yet rugged. In fact, Isabella had never seen anyone look so rough. His nose sat crooked on his face, indicating that he was obviously a scrapper. In general, he gave Isabella the creeps.

  “Isabella, this is Joe Sneed, a good friend of mine,” Amanda said as she took the box of pizza from him and put it on the table.

  With his dark eyes, he stared blankly at Amanda for a moment. Then, quickly, he nodded in greeting as he tied his thick, black shoulder-length hair back in a ponytail. His reaction to her was as immature as one of her second-grade students.

  “Hi, Joe. Nice to meet you.” Isabella nodded at him, ran her fingers through her hair, and looked away as she straightened the wrinkles in the front of her slacks.

  “Want a beer, missy? It’s cold.” Joe licked his lips and grinned wide, revealing yellowed, decaying teeth.

  His beady eyes traveled lecherously up and down her body. With his yellow fingernails and teeth, he could be a poster child for the effects of long term smoking.

  “No thanks. I’ll just have some water.” Her hands were shaking as she turned away from him and grabbed a slice of pizza on her way back to the couch. Amanda handed her a glass of water, and after a few sips and a couple more bites of the pizza, she was finished eating. She sat on the couch waiting for the right opportunity to make her getaway, say her good nights, and get the hell out of there.

  Edgy and impatient, getting more eager to leave by the minute, Isabella squinted at her watch. She groaned inwardly. It’s early. I can still get my run in if I leave soon. She yawned. Her face flushed, and her eyelids began to droop. Why am I so tired?

  She felt so dizzy.

  The room began to spin in front of her.

  Drowsy.

  Hoping to clear her head, she leaned back on the sofa and closed her eyes.

  She woke up groggy, her eyelids heavy, hard to keep open. Amanda’s face loomed above her as if from inside a fish bowl. Her words were muffled. Isabella giggled. Something about Amanda’s voice reminded her of how the adults spoke on a ‘Charlie Brown’ show she once saw: “Wah, wah, wah, wah.”

  “Isabella, please, let Joe drive you home. It’s gotten late, and you’re too sleepy to drive. I’m afraid you’ll fall asleep or get lost in my neighborhood. In fact, I insist.”

  Isabella hesitated, cleared her throat. Thinking about a drive home with creepy Joe made her uneasy, especially since her arms and legs felt like jelly. She struggled to keep her eyes open and was too weak to argue.

  Joe half carried her out of the house and placed her in his van.

  “What’s your address, missy?” he asked as he backed the van out onto the street.

  When she tried to reply, her tongue was tied in knots, swollen in her dry mouth. She licked her rough lips, attempted to swallow, and tried again to form words she didn’t know if he would understand.

  “I’ll have you there in no time.” He smiled. “Just sit back and relax.”

  His words dripped with reassurance.

  * * * *

  The van had stopped moving.

  Isabella’s heavy eyes fluttered open. She tried to take a deep breath and coughed. Stale cigarette smoke, dust, and old-car smell filled her nostrils. She tried to move her arms and legs, but they were stiff and felt weighted down. Rubbing her eyes, she tried to remember. She had a brief recollection of something about a man helping her into his van to take her home.

  She blinked her eyes open, and she squinted, trying to bring her surroundings into focus. She attempted to sit up, swallowing to keep down the rising bile. Turning her head to look out the window, she didn’t recognize the railroad tracks or the blinking red vacancy sign of an old, oddly named motel. Not my neighborhood, that’s for sure.

  She sank back into the seat and closed her eyes surrendering to the black clouds swirling behind her eyes. Where the hell am I?

  Her head felt enormous and her vision was blurred as Joe half led, half dragged her up the porch steps to a two or three-story house with two dark blue doors, one on each side. Or maybe she was seeing double, she couldn’t be sure.

  He guided her through the door on the left and pushed her down onto a small bed. The mattress smelled sour and a spring poked at her hip. She concentrated on lying still, trying to stop the room from spinning. She blinked her eyes and probed at her surroundings, glimpsing the bare outline of three or four single beds in a small room, no night tables or lamps. When her attention settled on Joe sitting in a chair beside the bed, she tried to sit up, but he shoved her back down, his burly, hairy arm stretched across her chest, restraining her.

  “What are you doing? Get your filthy hands off me,” she screamed, slurring her words, fighting against him with her arms. “Where am I?”

  Joe snarled. “Just shut up an’ don’t give me any trouble. I’ve got a job to do, and I’m gonna make sure it gets done right. You got that? Now drink this.”

  He pressed her head back against the pillow, cramming a bottle into her mouth, forcing her to swallow a few sips of foul-tasting soda. She had to swallow or choke. Some ran down her chin dripping onto her clothes. Soon the heaviness signaled the onslaught of black oblivion.

  Chapter 3

  “Can I have a bottle of water?” she asked Joe as she sat, dazed, on the bed munching a granola bar. Whether she’d been gone a few days or a few hours, Isabella had no way of knowing. She’d slept most of the time. Days turned into nights, nights into days as time continued to go by.

  “Too bad, soda’s all we got. Get used to it,” he curtly answered her while cleaning his fingernails with his pocketknife.

  There were two abrupt knocks on the door, a pause, then two more knocks.

  Joe walked to the door, peered through the peephole, unlocked, and opened the door. He whispered something and then stepped aside.

  When Isabella saw who arrived, she choked, spewing out most of the contents from her mouth all over herself, the bed, and surrounding area. She was stunned, exhilarated. The emotions hit her at the same time.

  Amanda came to get me out of here! I’m rescued!

  She tried to catch her breath as she sat up on the bed. But when she looked again at the woman standing inside the door, Isabella recoiled. Amanda’s expression exuded menace, danger. There were no happy-to-see-you’s or don’t-worry smiles on her threatening face. Amanda’s eyes flashed, her nostrils flared, and her mouth compressed as if to bite back words on the tip of her tongue.

  Isabella jumped off the bed with intentions of seeking comfort in Amanda’s arms, but walking toward her, Joe lifted his hand as if to strike her. She backed up until she felt the bed against the back of her legs.

  “Sit down and shut up. I’m warning you girl. You’re gettin’ on my last nerve,” he snarled as he loomed over her in a successful attempt to intimidate her.

  Co
nfused and frightened, Isabella trembled. Cowering in the corner of the bed, she pleaded in a whisper, “Amanda, help me. Why did you let him bring me here?”

  Raising his hand ready to smack her, Joe bellowed, “I said shut the hell up, damn it! One more word outta you an’ I’ll knock your teeth out.”

  Amanda walked toward Isabella pointing a finger at her. “Shut up and stop your bawlin’. I’ve been workin’ on you for over six months now for the boss, so just shut up. Do what you’re told, and no one gets hurt.” Her words were sharp, crisp through her tight lips.

  Terror ripped through Isabella, her hands fisted, her chin trembled in disbelief. She withdrew from Amanda’s imposing form, curled into a protective ball on the bed, and wept.

  Betrayed. Alone. Trapped.

  * * * *

  Isabella struggled to listen to the whispered conversation in the kitchen. Why would Amanda do this to me? What would make her do this to another woman who was her friend? Was she poor and needed to make some big bucks to live the fancy lifestyle she wanted? Or had she been kidnapped and given money for a new identity of wealth and affluence.

  * * * *

  What seemed like hours or days later, Isabella opened the door to the bathroom and was surprised to find an attractive blonde woman about her own age inside. The woman held her finger to her lips warning Isabella to be quiet and pulled her inside shutting the door.

  “Shhh! They hear everything,” the woman whispered.

  “What’s your name?”

  “Megan. What’s yours?”

  “Isabella. We have to get out of here.”

  “There’s no way out. Believe me, I’ve tried.”

  “How long have you been here?”

  “About a week, I’m not really sure. They keep telling me they’re waiting for some kind of ‘word’ and then I can leave. I’m so scared,” Megan said through trembling lips.

  “So am I. Why haven’t I seen you before?”

  “I’m usually across the hall, but my shower is broken today so they let me come over here to ‘get ready,’ whatever that means.”

  “Where are you from?”

  “Right here in Denver.”

  “Me, too.”

  Both seemed a little stunned.

  The door burst open, almost torn off its hinges. Joe reached in, grabbed Megan by the arm, and jerked her out the door.

  “Stop, you’re hurting me,” she screamed, but Joe only covered her mouth with his hand as he slammed the bathroom door shut.

  Isabella could hear Megan’s muffled screams, her kicks against the floor as she was pulled across the room. She stood unable to think of something she could do to help, the pounding of her heart in her chest deafening in her ears.

  Suddenly, without a plan in mind, except to come to the aid of Megan, she sprinted after them and jumped on Joe’s back when she caught up to him. Hitting, biting and scratching anywhere she could find skin. Surely, between the two of them, they would be able to fight him off and escape.

  While holding Megan around her waist with one arm, Joe loosened his hand on her mouth long enough to take a swipe at Isabella. She grasped hold of his lower side as his solid fist hit her on the side of the head. She lost her hold and fell to the floor in a dazed heap.

  I didn’t see that one coming!

  “Run, run, get away, get help, Isabella. Go! Go! Run!” Megan screamed.

  Hearing Megan’s cries sent a shot of renewed energy through Isabella. Her heart lurched in her chest, and sweat beaded on her upper lip. She ran ahead of them, out the door, across the porch, down the stairs into the street, and came to a screeching halt. What to do? Which way to go?

  She looked up and down both sides of the street. Each looked the same, rows of tall narrow houses, similar in size and shape, color being the only main difference. Long skinny alleyways three to four feet wide separated the houses. Large oak trees spanned the street from yard to yard, making a canopy covering the street.

  She glanced behind her. Amanda, not Joe, was now struggling with Megan, dragging her kicking and screaming to the van parked nearby.

  Isabella made a quick U-turn running through the alleyway toward the back of the house. Her knees weakened, and breathing became more strained as she ran down the lengthy passageway. She stumbled and fell on the loose stones covering the ground. With the gravel embedded in the scratches, she didn’t risk taking time to brush them off. She crawled for a few feet, then got back up and resumed running. Limping, with her knees bleeding, she slowed down in hope of catching her breath. She took a chance to look behind her. Good, no one followed.

  She stopped and leaned over, resting her hands on her knees while she tried to catch her breath. When she turned her head around and squinted upward, she gaped straight at Joe’s bull-like face.

  Without a word, he grabbed her by the arm and started dragging her back the way she had come. He continued to tow her over the gravel, even after she fell to her knees. Since she only wore a T-shirt and running shorts, the loose stones and pebbles scraped skin off her arms, knees, legs, and ankles.

  She screamed out as pain tore through her, “Let me go! Help! Somebody, please help me! Stop, you’re hurting me.”

  He covered her mouth with his other stinking hand, muffling her words. Reaching down, putting a tight hold around her waist, he picked her up. She squirmed, trying to wrest herself free, trying to pull his fingers from her waist and mouth.

  As soon as he got her inside the apartment, he slapped her across the face knocking her to the floor. She felt something hot, stinging at the corner of her mouth. Her tongue automatically flicked the spot and she tasted blood mixed with salt. She shook her head to clear it while touching her mouth. When she took her hand away, it was covered in blood. Tears of pain, anger, and frustration ran down her cheeks.

  She turned her eyes on Joe. “I’ll make you pay for this, you son of a bitch!”

  He lifted his hand to hit her again. She flinched and rolled into a ball to protect her face from the next punishing blow. It never came.

  Instead, she heard Amanda yell, “Stop it, Joe, right now. Boss’ll really be mad and won’t pay us, ’specially if we deliver damaged goods. We need the money, man. We need this job.”

  Amanda helped Isabella off the floor, none too gently, and pushed her onto a bed. She felt a pinprick sensation in her arm, followed instantly by that old familiar woozy feeling. Isabella drifted into a deep, dreamless sleep.

  * * * *

  Isabella sat up, shook the cobwebs from her head, and looked around. Everything appeared muddled, obscured, her mind bewildered. She turned her head to one side. Joe stood beside the bed with some clothes and a pair of sandals in his hands. He threw them at her.

  “Get up and shower,” he ordered crisply, “and then put these on. Right now. We gotta get a move-on.”

  She stood, staggered, and paused to steady herself. “I said, get moving,” he bellowed. “Now! We got things to do, and remember what I tol’ you.”

  She stumbled into the bathroom, not because he told her to but because showering and washing her dirty body and matted hair would make her feel better. The cuts on her body weren’t serious, but they stung like the dickens when the water hit them. She dressed in a T-shirt, jeans, and sandals, and towel-dried her hair. She walked out of the bathroom refreshed, more human, and ready to do battle if necessary. With a clearer head, she felt more confident than she had in quite a while.

  Eagerly, she focused on her dilemma, concentrated on finding a solution. She had to get away from this hellhole. Get away and put this horrific experience behind her. Get away before she spent the rest of her life sleepwalking.

  Chapter 4

  Isabella struggled as Joe held her left arm. The two of them went through the open door, crossed the front porch, and went down a few steps. She took a fleeting glance around, looking for anyone. She had to get someone’s attention. She had to find someone, anyone, to give some kind of signal to for help. Getting away, far away,
from Joe and Amanda stayed foremost on her mind.

  As if he read her thoughts, Joe put his hand into his jacket pocket. A sharp pain slammed into her side as he pushed a hard, blunt object into her ribs. She yelped, jumping away from him.

  He jerked her arm brutally back toward him and pulled her close against his side. He shook her. “Look at me. Look at me, girl, and keep your mouth shut or this gun will go off.” His eyes were dark, his lips stiff, as he thrust the gun against her ribs.

  She swung her head around coming to an abrupt halt in front of his face.

  “If you think I’m bluffin’, just try me,” he snapped at her. “I’ve been itchin’ to take you out anyway. Remember, keep your eyes on me, no lookin’ round. You understand? First time I find you lookin’ somewhere else, I’m takin’ you out. Right here. Right now. You got that? We’re gonna take a little walk in this beautiful park.” He growled low in his throat as he jabbed her, hard in the ribs, again with the gun, to make sure she understood.

  She winced, nodding in understanding. She crinkled up her face, tried to breath in air away from his putrid exhaled breath. She trembled and her knees wobbled as Joe pushed and pulled her along. Where is he taking me? What is he going to do with me?

  She had to walk sideways as Joe held her close to his side but slightly in front of him as a shield. He pushed her along with caution, his eyes darting around, into every nook, every alley along both sides of the street, even on the rooftops, as if someone might be watching them or looking for them.

  After a block or so, Isabella felt the warmth of the sun on her face and closed her eyes to savor the moment. Her mind strayed when a fresh breeze with a lingering sent of clover wafted past, and she took a deep breath. Ah, fresh air. It smelled so good and felt wonderful as it ruffled through her hair.

  Another sharp jab in her ribs brought tears to her eyes and back to reality. When she turned her nose away from his face for a clean breath of air, he jammed the gun harder into her side, which made her wince in pain.