Chloe sat at the back of the room on the bench. At least it wasn’t a cage.
“A yacht,” she whispered. “Of course.” It made perfect sense. When she’d first entered the warehouse, she’d thought they’d reached the end of the line, but they’d been herded past the cars to the multimillion-dollar yacht sitting at the dock. “Everyone on board,” Neal had called out. “One at a time.”
They’d filed on board and been locked in the room. That had been an hour ago. A spread of food had been left on the table. Fruits, cheeses, deli meats, and bread.
And the PDM for Rachel to check her blood sugar and give herself insulin. Chloe rose and went to the closet. She pushed the pocket door to the side and found a wardrobe worthy of a queen. Dresses, short shorts, sequined tops, impossibly high-heeled shoes. No jeans, T-shirts, or anything remotely comfortable—or warm. She grimaced.
No doubt they would be required to pick something out to wear for the auction. She pressed a hand against her churning stomach and turned to walk to the window. Looking out, she could see blue water, other yachts, and a lot of sailboats. No shore. At least on this side. How far out were they?
The door opened and Neal stood there. This time he hadn’t bothered with the mask. “Time to eat, ladies. The festivities will begin in a couple of hours. So, let me explain how this works. You will eat, shower, whatever. Then change into the clothing that was chosen for you back at the house. Thelma and Louise will be here to do your makeup and hair. When you’re finished, a number will be pinned to your shoulder.”
Chloe gave a silent gasp. The number. She was willing to bet the number would match up to one of those paintings at the museum. Somehow there was a code. Each girl was matched to a painting and the buyers perused the “merchandise” in advance. Then bid on the “painting.” Checks and balances. An audit would show paintings sold. Not girls.
She tuned back in. “. . . one by one you’ll be led to the auction viewing area. The men bidding on you are doing so remotely. Once the bidding is finished, you will be taken to a pickup area where you will meet your new owner.”
Chloe seriously thought she was going to hurl. A quick look around said she wasn’t the only one. Real fear hit her. What if she couldn’t protect them? What if she couldn’t protect herself? What if they really weren’t found in time? She honestly hadn’t given that question consideration, because it never occurred to her that things would get this far. Except they had.
“Now, any questions?” His eyes met the gaze of each girl before locking onto Chloe. “No funny business or I’ll just kill you, understand?”
Clenching her teeth, Chloe forced herself to nod.
He frowned, then left.
The girl beside Chloe broke into sobs. “I can’t do this,” she wailed. “I’m not going to be someone’s slave. I’m not going to have an owner. I’m going to college to be a doctor. This isn’t happening, tell me this isn’t . . .”
Another jumped up and raced to the door, pounding on it with her fists. “Let me out! Let us out! You can’t do this!”
Chloe wrapped an arm around the girl next to her and shushed her.
Rachel went to the girl still screaming at the door and dragged her away. “It’ll be okay. Stop. We don’t want him back in here, okay?”
She calmed immediately, the threat of Neal’s return acting better than a sedative. Gulping huge gasps of air, she ran a shaky hand over her hair. “Okay. You’re right. I don’t want him back in here, but I’m not going to be sold. I’ll jump overboard and kill myself first.”
“You’ve made it this far,” Chloe said. “Don’t give up hope yet. What’s your name?”
“Hannah.”
“All right, Hannah, save your strength in case you need it.” She lowered her voice. “We are going to get out of this somehow.”
“How?”
All eyes were on Chloe and she sighed. “I don’t know, but I’m thinking. Just give me a little time to come up with a plan. But no matter what happens, don’t give up. Even if you’re passed off to—” she couldn’t say the word owner—“whoever, don’t think that it’s over. Hold out hope, okay? Because as long as we’re in this area, we’ve got people searching for us. Promise me.”
Hannah swiped the tears from her cheeks, nodded, and returned to the sofa where she curled up and closed her eyes.
Chloe urged her brain to process a plan a little faster. “Okay, girls, listen up. We’ve got to stop panicking and start thinking.” She was going to have to take her own advice. Shoving aside her fear, she waited for the rest of them to look at her.
When she felt sure they were listening, Chloe stood up. “Do any of you see any cameras or monitoring devices in here? Everyone look. And while you’re at it, see if there’s anything that can be used as a weapon. Anything sharp or heavy.”
With them busy, Chloe went to Rachel. “Go eat something. It’s been awhile. And you might want to check your sugar.”
Rachel glanced at the food. “You have a plan, don’t you?” Her soft words were hardly discernable.
“I’m working on one.” Sort of.
“Did you see the guards?”
“I saw them.”
“What do I need to do?”
Chloe walked over and picked up a slice of bread and slathered mayonnaise on it. She then added meat and cheese and topped it with another piece of bread. “Follow my lead. But you’re going to need to eat.”
“You think it’s safe to?”
“Yes.” She popped a piece of cheese into her mouth, chewed and swallowed. When nothing happened over the next few minutes, she breathed a relieved sigh. If they hadn’t drugged the girls when they had them earlier, they most likely wouldn’t start now.
Rachel fixed herself a plate, checked her sugar and gave herself some insulin, and shot Chloe a thumbs-up. Then she began to eat.
One by one, the girls followed suit. No listening devices or cameras had been found. Chloe had checked light fixtures and every nook and cranny she could reach. She’d even pulled up the edges of the carpet to see if she could spot wires.
But nothing. And nothing that would make a good weapon. Of course not. They would have thought of that before making this the holding room.
She studied the light fixtures. Could she break one of the bulbs and use the sharp edge as a knife? Maybe.
Walking from one end of the room to the other, she ate her sandwich and thought. “Okay, girls, here’s what I think we should do.”
They looked at her, waiting.
“Just go along with everything. Don’t fight them, don’t make them mad. Do whatever for now. Even if the auction goes as planned, they still have to deliver us to the men who are doing the buying.” Fighting the nausea the words elicited, she rubbed her forehead. “I know I’ve got people looking for me and I think I’ve left enough of a trail that they’ll be able to follow it.” Maybe. “So, don’t give up hope and let’s just stay alive until rescue happens or I can think of a plan.” She was repeating herself, but they needed it. They needed her to give them hope, make them believe they were going to get away and see their families again. Get their lives back. The responsibility sat heavy on her shoulders.
The girls nodded slowly, obviously still scared out of their minds, but glad to have someone on their side take charge.
A plan. She needed a plan. Think, Chloe, think.
When the door opened and Thelma and Louise arrived, Chloe was still thinking.
And still coming up empty.
24
No security footage, no nothing,” Blake said. He stood on the dock, hands on his hips, looking out over the expanse of water. Yachts and sailboats and other luxury crafts cluttered the peaceful area. “Where did all these come from?”
“There’s some kind of sailboat race going on. Or something. There are a number of good-sized yachts out there as well.”
“We need the chopper.”