This was what street life had done to me.
I turned away and approached the window straight ahead, stepping onto a white rug. I traced my fingers along the metal lattice on the leaded windows. The arched window was wide, expressive, and each sash opened inward. I deduced by all the turns we’d made that my view was the back of the mansion.
The first thing I did was drag the rug in front of the fireplace. Then I set my bag on the bed and noticed my weapons were missing.
“Oh, you’re kidding me,” I said in disbelief.
Viktor wanted me to be part of his elite organization, and yet he didn’t want me armed?
I turned in a circle and noticed there wasn’t a lamp in the room. The rain outside had cast a dark shroud over the property, and all I had were lanterns affixed to the walls and candles on the tables. I peeked in a drawer and found fresh candles and a box of matches.
“Putting on my makeup should be fun,” I mused.
To the right of the bed was an open doorway, so I went to investigate and discovered a bathroom behind the wall. The sink and oval mirror on the left were basic, and the standing shower straight ahead had a glass door that offered no privacy. But what caught my eye was the claw-foot tub within a recessed wall on the right.
“Hello, darling.”
I ran the tub water and stripped out of my clothes. It was pure torture waiting for the tub to fill, and I turned away from the mirror after catching a glimpse of the bruise on my back—a reminder of my failure. The small window on the wall with the shower brought in enough light, but I retrieved some matches and lit the square lanterns on either side of the sink.
Most people would have found the room basic and uninviting, but those people hadn’t spent the past two nights sleeping in a Dumpster.
Steam rose from the tub, and I slipped into the clean water, groaning at the blissful feel of that heat all around me. I took most of my showers in truck stop restrooms. Only on rare occasions after working odd jobs did I have money to spend on a motel room, and I’d forgotten the simple pleasure that a hot bath could bring.
I soaked.
And by soaked I mean I spent hours in that claw-foot tub, periodically draining the water and then turning it back on for more heat.
It was glorious, and I luxuriated in the exotic oils that were lined up on a small ledge in the wall.
Eventually I draped over the rim, resting my head in my arms. Maybe I’d wake up and this would have all been a dream. Or a setup. But for now it felt like heaven. Despite the balking I’d done earlier about sleep, I nodded off right inside that bathtub.
Clean. Warm. Safe.
And slightly mystified as to how I’d become so fortunate. Not that it would last.
Nothing good in my life ever lasted.
Chapter 5
When I opened my eyes, two things disturbed me. One, I had no idea where I was. And two, I was completely naked.
Disoriented, I looked about the dimly lit room, the candles burning low. Thunder rumbled in the distance, and rain drizzled onto the floor from an open window. I sat up and tried to recall how I’d gotten here. Sleeping hard will do that to anyone—especially when you’re exhausted and wake up in a strange place.
Ah, yes. Viktor. It was all coming back.
I remembered the bath and touched my hair, the tousled strands now dry.
Had I really slept all day? A damp towel covered my pillow, and I rubbed my face, unable to remember even getting out of the tub. What if someone had carried me to the bed?
Perish the thought.
For all I knew, Viktor could have been a trader on the black market and—like the Pied Piper—this was how he lured people to his den of iniquity.
Hmm. No telephone.
I yanked on my black hoodie and a pair of jeans. Without central heating, an uncomfortable chill hung in the air, so I closed the window and spread a towel over the wet spot on the floor.
Staying cooped up was never my thing. Time to do a little exploring. I peered into the hallway, looking in both directions to figure out which way to go. The windows straight ahead overlooked the courtyard, but it was too dark to see anything. Every other lantern on the wall had a candle flickering inside, providing enough light to reflect off the glass and soak into the stone architecture.
Since it was raining, I opted against going in the direction we’d come, fearing I might lock myself outside on the balcony. I swung to the right instead, following the hall until it curved left. When the windows ended, I realized the house was bigger than I’d first thought and not at all shaped like a perfect rectangle. I passed a grand room on the right with tapestries spun from gold and exquisite furniture. That room had electricity, so I scurried past the opening in case someone was in there.