“Is he…?” I asked, pausing by his chair.
“He’s alive.” He slapped Mel’s face lightly. “Hey, come on, wake up.”
Mel didn’t stir.
“He must have knocked him out with the same shit as Scarlett.”
West put his arms under Mel and hauled him up, getting him sat down in the chair. Mel’s head lolled on his chest. There wasn’t much we could do about that. I picked up the desk phone and called up to Drake.
“Yeah?” Prescott answered.
“Mel is unconscious, but he’s alive. We think he was drugged like Scar.”
“Fuck, okay… Drake’s still checking the footage… wait, hold on, go back.”
I stood, my body tense as I waited for Prescott to say something else. Pressing down, I put the phone on speaker so West could hear too.
“There… stop there,” Prescott said a moment later. “Isn’t that…?”
There was a muffled voice from next to him, so I assumed Drake was answering. When neither of them said another word, I prompted them, wanting to know what the fuck they’d found.
“Who is it?”
And when Prescott replied to me, my blood ran cold. My eyes met West’s, who had a rather grim expression on his face.
“Is that who you were thinking?” I asked.
“Yeah. It fucking well is. And mark my words, he’s a dead man walking.”
Three
Scarlett
My neck was stiff and achy when I regained consciousness. For a second I lay there, trying to remember what the fuck happened, then my eyes flew open. Above me was a white ceiling with swirly decorative plastering. I blinked twice, then sat up. My eyes went around the room, trying to work out where the fuck I was.
I was on a bed with a ridiculous amount of throw pillows on it. It was a wooden four-poster with white see-through material suspended from the top end to the bottom. The room was decorated in light blue pastel colours. The covers had little blue sailing boats all over them. A dressing table sat to my left with a glass top and under it was one of those resin images of a beach and a swelling tide. On the opposite side sat a wall of wardrobe doors. At the bottom of the bed was a driftwood ottoman. The whole room was light and airy. And it gave me the fucking creeps if I was honest.
Looking down at myself, I found I was still in the same dress I’d put on when I’d gone up to the roof to see Drake. Still with no knickers or bra on. It made me feel even more uneasy, but at least I hadn’t been touched… I hoped.
I wasn’t tied down to the bed, so I got up and walked over to the door. My hand went to the handle. It turned. Swallowing hard, I pulled the door open and looked out into the corridor. It wasn’t very long. There was a door opposite it, then another at each end. I stepped out and went towards the open one where I could hear the faint sound of a TV. My bare feet on the carpet made very little sound as I padded towards it.
Why haven’t I been locked up? This doesn’t feel right.
I’d been kidnapped from Fortuity by an unknown person. I thought it might be one of Stuart’s men, but in reality, I had absolutely no idea. And the fact I was in a well-kept home made me nervous. I was going to be brave, though. I had to. Not just for me, but for the boys. I had to make sure I could get out of here alive, so I could go back to the men I loved. There was no other option. I didn’t want to be separated from them again.
The moment I thought about them, my chest caved in. They would be going crazy knowing I’d been taken again. After what it had done to them last time, I dreaded to think of how it would affect them this time. I knew in my heart they would do everything in their power to find me. And I would do my best to escape, regardless.
I reached the door and peered into the room beyond. It was an open-plan kitchen/living space. I could see the flickering screen of the TV and a figure sitting on the sofa watching it.
My breath caught in my throat. My lungs constricted painfully, and my hands shook.
Sat on that sofa was someone I recognised. I would know the back of their head anywhere. And it made me sick to my stomach.
“Hello, Scar.”
Mason turned his head and looked over at me standing in the doorway. His expression was open, and he smiled at me. It made me want to retch. My trembling hand went to my stomach, trying to fight back the urge. Trying to process what I was seeing. Trying to understand what the hell was going on.
He stood up from the sofa and walked around it, coming closer to me. His hands dug into his pockets as he continued to smile with a horrifying glint in his eyes.
“How are you feeling? Are you hungry?”
You fucking kidnapped me and you’re acting like there’s nothing wrong. Like this is just a normal fucking day. What the fuck?
“You look a little pale. Come, sit down and I’ll make you some breakfast.”
He went to take me by the arm, but I stepped back out of his reach. How on earth could he be so casual about this? The man had kidnapped me. Actually taken me away from the men I loved. And now he was being nice, like we were… a couple. That would never happen. In fact, I would rather die.
His expression darkened even though he kept smiling.
“Come now, Scarlett, you need to eat.”
I couldn’t find my voice. It was all too fucked up and surreal.
This time when he reached for me, I was too slow. He gripped my wrist and forcibly dragged me into the room. I barely had a chance to resist. He tugged me to the dining room table just off the kitchen and physically sat me down in a chair.
When he let go, his expression cleared, and his eyes softened.
“What would you like for breakfast?”
I stared up at him, feeling completely out of my depth. This man had cared for me for ten years and yet the things I now knew about him made my skin crawl. They made me want to run as far away as possible.
“I know, I’ll make your favourite, shall I? You deserve a treat.”
I flinched but didn’t respond to him. The fact he knew those things about me was a blessing and a fucking curse. He gave me a warning look before he moved into the kitchen. My eyes went to the table, staring down at it as I tried to process everything. I could hear him banging around in the kitchen, but I didn’t look back. I didn’t move.
There were things I had to establish. First of all, I needed to know where he’d taken me. Where the hell I was. Then I could make a plan to escape. And I needed to find out why he’d taken me. Was he keeping me here for Stuart? What was his plan?
You need to stay calm. Don’t make him angry.
The last time I’d angered Mason, he’d hurt me. The risk of it happening again was far too great. I had to keep a level head. Had to keep him onside until I made my move.
“Where are we?” I asked, trying to keep the panic out of my voice.
“Home.”
“Home?”
“Mmm, yes, home, Scar. Do you like it? I decorated it especially for you.”