Read Online Redemption (The Penton Vampire Legacy) by Susannah Sandlin - Free Book Online Page B
Authors: Susannah Sandlin
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a deadbolt, from the looks of it.
Half-panicked, half-annoyed, Krys rattled the knob a few times and then pounded on a door so solid it absorbed her fist-falls.
“Hello? Anyone? I’m locked in here!” She kicked at what looked like some kind of hinged slot in the bottom of the door, but all that earned her was a throbbing, stubbed toe.
“Damn it.” She looked around at the two other doors. Maybe she’d been trying to open one of those adjoining room doors that locked from the other side.
The door on the far side opened into a bathroom, all marble surfaces and antiqued fittings, a walk-in shower and a built-in Jacuzzi in opposite corners. A sharp pain stabbed through Krys’s head and she closed her eyes. She remembered this room, getting undressed, finding the red T-shirt and putting it on. And walking out to find Aidan.
Her image in the mirror looked no different than usual. She ran her fingers through her hair and stopped, frowning. Turning to the side, she studied her neck. Just under her right ear, there was a freakin’ hickey. What was this, high school? Except, the image that came to her as she ran her fingers over the small bruise was no teen flashback. Aidan’s teeth biting, mouth roving over her. God, it really had happened. Dreams didn’t leave love bites.
Everything in the bathroom looked new, even smelled new, with underlying odors of fresh concrete and stone and glue.Wrapped toiletries occupied a corner of the vanity—toothbrush, toothpaste, soap, shampoo, lotion.
A sense of unreality settled over Krys as she walked back into the bedroom and opened the third door. A small closet, with clothes hanging in it. Her breath caught when she saw the cream-colored sweater hanging next to her suede jacket. That sweater had been in the hotel room in LaFayette. She slid the hangers to expose the other clothes hanging beside the jacket. She always packed too much, even for an overnight trip. And the evidence was on display right in front of her.
Hands trembling, she jerked the jacket off its hanger and dug in the pocket for her pistol, but she found only a stick of gum. The bright green wrapper teetered on her shaking palm a moment before toppling off. She retrieved it, wrapping her fingers around its familiar shape, a tiny piece of normal. Then she saw her suitcase on the closet floor.
Her suitcase from the hotel. Someone had definitely gone into her room at the LaFayette Motor Inn and brought all her things here, wherever here might be. Who did stuff like that? Kidnappers. But who’d kidnap a doctor from a poor family with over two hundred grand in college debts? Somebody delusional.
Think, Krys.
Phone. She scanned the room again, checking the nightstand and the dresser and the small writing desk. No phone. She grabbed her purse, digging in it, finally dumping the contents on the bed. Fast-food receipts, makeup, pens, and half a Hershey bar wrapped in foil—but no cell phone. Even her iPod was gone.
They’d gone through her purse, too. No point in denial.
They
existed. Had Aidan done this? Halfway seduced her, knocked her out, stolen her stuff, and locked her in? The man obviouslyhad money—look at the car he drove, the way he dressed, the salary the clinic offered. Why would he do this?
Fighting a prickly, panicky feeling, she returned to the closet and fell to her knees in front of the suitcase, unzipping the front compartment where she kept her laptop. She could tell it was empty from the heft of it, but she looked anyway, opening every compartment, the teeth of the zipper ripping through the oppressive silence. It held nothing but her stupid book of crossword puzzles.
She collapsed onto the floor with a thump and drew her knees to her chest, wrapping her arms around them. A bandage on her left forearm caught her eye. Just a Band-Aid, flesh-colored plastic, right over the cephalic vein.
She flicked a fingernail under the edge and peeled it off, unveiling a tiny round bruise. A needle mark.
Half-panicked, half-annoyed, Krys rattled the knob a few times and then pounded on a door so solid it absorbed her fist-falls.
“Hello? Anyone? I’m locked in here!” She kicked at what looked like some kind of hinged slot in the bottom of the door, but all that earned her was a throbbing, stubbed toe.
“Damn it.” She looked around at the two other doors. Maybe she’d been trying to open one of those adjoining room doors that locked from the other side.
The door on the far side opened into a bathroom, all marble surfaces and antiqued fittings, a walk-in shower and a built-in Jacuzzi in opposite corners. A sharp pain stabbed through Krys’s head and she closed her eyes. She remembered this room, getting undressed, finding the red T-shirt and putting it on. And walking out to find Aidan.
Her image in the mirror looked no different than usual. She ran her fingers through her hair and stopped, frowning. Turning to the side, she studied her neck. Just under her right ear, there was a freakin’ hickey. What was this, high school? Except, the image that came to her as she ran her fingers over the small bruise was no teen flashback. Aidan’s teeth biting, mouth roving over her. God, it really had happened. Dreams didn’t leave love bites.
Everything in the bathroom looked new, even smelled new, with underlying odors of fresh concrete and stone and glue.Wrapped toiletries occupied a corner of the vanity—toothbrush, toothpaste, soap, shampoo, lotion.
A sense of unreality settled over Krys as she walked back into the bedroom and opened the third door. A small closet, with clothes hanging in it. Her breath caught when she saw the cream-colored sweater hanging next to her suede jacket. That sweater had been in the hotel room in LaFayette. She slid the hangers to expose the other clothes hanging beside the jacket. She always packed too much, even for an overnight trip. And the evidence was on display right in front of her.
Hands trembling, she jerked the jacket off its hanger and dug in the pocket for her pistol, but she found only a stick of gum. The bright green wrapper teetered on her shaking palm a moment before toppling off. She retrieved it, wrapping her fingers around its familiar shape, a tiny piece of normal. Then she saw her suitcase on the closet floor.
Her suitcase from the hotel. Someone had definitely gone into her room at the LaFayette Motor Inn and brought all her things here, wherever here might be. Who did stuff like that? Kidnappers. But who’d kidnap a doctor from a poor family with over two hundred grand in college debts? Somebody delusional.
Think, Krys.
Phone. She scanned the room again, checking the nightstand and the dresser and the small writing desk. No phone. She grabbed her purse, digging in it, finally dumping the contents on the bed. Fast-food receipts, makeup, pens, and half a Hershey bar wrapped in foil—but no cell phone. Even her iPod was gone.
They’d gone through her purse, too. No point in denial.
They
existed. Had Aidan done this? Halfway seduced her, knocked her out, stolen her stuff, and locked her in? The man obviouslyhad money—look at the car he drove, the way he dressed, the salary the clinic offered. Why would he do this?
Fighting a prickly, panicky feeling, she returned to the closet and fell to her knees in front of the suitcase, unzipping the front compartment where she kept her laptop. She could tell it was empty from the heft of it, but she looked anyway, opening every compartment, the teeth of the zipper ripping through the oppressive silence. It held nothing but her stupid book of crossword puzzles.
She collapsed onto the floor with a thump and drew her knees to her chest, wrapping her arms around them. A bandage on her left forearm caught her eye. Just a Band-Aid, flesh-colored plastic, right over the cephalic vein.
She flicked a fingernail under the edge and peeled it off, unveiling a tiny round bruise. A needle mark.
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