bed, and wriggled out of the cargo pants. “Let’s do this.”
Ruth slipped the silky garment over Lisbeth’s straggly ponytail, then scooped up her dirty clothes. “Follow me.”
“Hey, wait. What are you going to do with my pants?”
“Dispose of them.”
“No!” Lisbeth snatched the filthy garment. Fumbling with the buttoned pocket flap, she muttered, “My phone will be ruined.” Sure enough. Inside the pocket she found the soggy remains of Papa’s letter, a shattered cell phone, her engagement ring, and . . . “Wait!” She tore through the other pockets. “Where’s my stethoscope? I know I stashed it here.” Maybe the instrument had fallen out while she was unconscious. More likely it had been stolen by that sticky-fingered sex trafficker. She clasped Ruth’s arm. “Look, I think that guy who tried to sell me took something very important to me. I’ve got to go back.”
“Too dangerous.”
Making a break for it would do no good. She didn’t knowwhere she’d been or even where to look. She’d never find that awful dungeon on her own. Like it or not, without the help of these strangers, she was lost.
“If we could just retrace our steps—” Her plea fell upon deaf ears. Ruth wasn’t interested in allowing a scrappy slave to alter her plans. Lisbeth slipped the ring on her finger, but she felt no closer to home. “Tomorrow I’m going back for my stethoscope.”
“None of us are guaranteed tomorrow.” Ruth took the letter and the phone from Lisbeth and laid them on the bed. “Come with me.” She led her from the room and down the luxurious hall.
Cool marble underfoot didn’t soothe Lisbeth’s burning desire to rip into the paunchy slave trader or the muscled man who’d dragged her here. She’d make these black market traffickers regret the day they’d messed with the camp at the Cave of the Swimmers.
They entered a bathroom bigger than Lisbeth’s entire Dallas apartment. Intricate floor-to-ceiling murals covered three walls. A stone throne that resembled the primitive commodes she’d seen around the world and a sunken bathtub the size of her apartment complex’s communal whirlpool took up the rest of the room. From the base of the far wall, a long concrete trough carried water that splashed upon the tiled mosaic of Neptune. The bearded god of the sea rode a carriage pulled by four sea horses. His maniacal grin and pointed trident dared her to enter the swirling water or make a move toward the silver chalice and a plate of bread, fruit, and cheese waiting on the stone steps.
There must be money in kidnapping . Lisbeth started to peel out of the robe. “Uh, I’ve got this. You can go now, Ruth.”
“I cannot.”
The determined set of Ruth’s chin cut short any argument. Lisbeth considered her alternatives. Fight, and squander what precious little energy she had left? Or give in, and possibly win Ruthover to helping her escape in the near future? Resigned to humor her warden for now, Lisbeth shrugged out of the robe. She stuck a foot into the steamy water. Trying not to think about Ruth or Neptune’s watchful eye, she slid in among the floating flower petals.
Ruth insisted she take the wine goblet. Lisbeth’s first sip of the sweet nectar burned the back of her throat. By the third gulp her aches and pains began to dissolve. Hunger pangs prompted Lisbeth to reach for the bread and cheese. When was the last time she ate? She licked her finger and mopped up the crumbs, talking with her mouth full, “A girl could get used to this.”
A cascade of water sluiced over her head.
Bolting upright, Lisbeth wiped her eyes. “Hey, what are you doing?”
Ruth quietly reloaded the pitcher and drowned Lisbeth again. “Searching for signs of the beauty Cyprian must have seen beneath this filth.”
Sputtering, Lisbeth slammed the wineglass on the ledge. “I can wash my own hair, lady!”
Acting like she hadn’t heard a word, Ruth opened a cobalt blue glass bottle and poured
Ruth slipped the silky garment over Lisbeth’s straggly ponytail, then scooped up her dirty clothes. “Follow me.”
“Hey, wait. What are you going to do with my pants?”
“Dispose of them.”
“No!” Lisbeth snatched the filthy garment. Fumbling with the buttoned pocket flap, she muttered, “My phone will be ruined.” Sure enough. Inside the pocket she found the soggy remains of Papa’s letter, a shattered cell phone, her engagement ring, and . . . “Wait!” She tore through the other pockets. “Where’s my stethoscope? I know I stashed it here.” Maybe the instrument had fallen out while she was unconscious. More likely it had been stolen by that sticky-fingered sex trafficker. She clasped Ruth’s arm. “Look, I think that guy who tried to sell me took something very important to me. I’ve got to go back.”
“Too dangerous.”
Making a break for it would do no good. She didn’t knowwhere she’d been or even where to look. She’d never find that awful dungeon on her own. Like it or not, without the help of these strangers, she was lost.
“If we could just retrace our steps—” Her plea fell upon deaf ears. Ruth wasn’t interested in allowing a scrappy slave to alter her plans. Lisbeth slipped the ring on her finger, but she felt no closer to home. “Tomorrow I’m going back for my stethoscope.”
“None of us are guaranteed tomorrow.” Ruth took the letter and the phone from Lisbeth and laid them on the bed. “Come with me.” She led her from the room and down the luxurious hall.
Cool marble underfoot didn’t soothe Lisbeth’s burning desire to rip into the paunchy slave trader or the muscled man who’d dragged her here. She’d make these black market traffickers regret the day they’d messed with the camp at the Cave of the Swimmers.
They entered a bathroom bigger than Lisbeth’s entire Dallas apartment. Intricate floor-to-ceiling murals covered three walls. A stone throne that resembled the primitive commodes she’d seen around the world and a sunken bathtub the size of her apartment complex’s communal whirlpool took up the rest of the room. From the base of the far wall, a long concrete trough carried water that splashed upon the tiled mosaic of Neptune. The bearded god of the sea rode a carriage pulled by four sea horses. His maniacal grin and pointed trident dared her to enter the swirling water or make a move toward the silver chalice and a plate of bread, fruit, and cheese waiting on the stone steps.
There must be money in kidnapping . Lisbeth started to peel out of the robe. “Uh, I’ve got this. You can go now, Ruth.”
“I cannot.”
The determined set of Ruth’s chin cut short any argument. Lisbeth considered her alternatives. Fight, and squander what precious little energy she had left? Or give in, and possibly win Ruthover to helping her escape in the near future? Resigned to humor her warden for now, Lisbeth shrugged out of the robe. She stuck a foot into the steamy water. Trying not to think about Ruth or Neptune’s watchful eye, she slid in among the floating flower petals.
Ruth insisted she take the wine goblet. Lisbeth’s first sip of the sweet nectar burned the back of her throat. By the third gulp her aches and pains began to dissolve. Hunger pangs prompted Lisbeth to reach for the bread and cheese. When was the last time she ate? She licked her finger and mopped up the crumbs, talking with her mouth full, “A girl could get used to this.”
A cascade of water sluiced over her head.
Bolting upright, Lisbeth wiped her eyes. “Hey, what are you doing?”
Ruth quietly reloaded the pitcher and drowned Lisbeth again. “Searching for signs of the beauty Cyprian must have seen beneath this filth.”
Sputtering, Lisbeth slammed the wineglass on the ledge. “I can wash my own hair, lady!”
Acting like she hadn’t heard a word, Ruth opened a cobalt blue glass bottle and poured
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