CHAPTER TEN
Gasping, Cami realized that Connor had grabbed this suspect just in time, because she saw now that he was about to turn, he was about to run, and Connor had somehow intuited this.
Guy was shouting now, yelling and struggling, but Connor had the advantage of surprise.
He shoved him against the couch, avoiding flailing kicks with his legs. Guy was shouting—thick, angry curses filled the room in his deep, aggressive tones. A wooden ornament toppled to the floor from off the coffee table, clattering onto the tiles.
“Get off me! Stop this! I’ve done nothing!” Guy was roaring. “Leave me alone!”
And then, Guy was handcuffed. His hands were firmly fastened behind his back. Cami couldn’t believe that he’d done that single-handedly, during this struggle. She hadn’t even realized that was what he was doing, because she hadn’t been at the right angle. Now, it was done, and she felt a flare of reluctant admiration for the expertise.
Connor was breathing hard but seemed otherwise calm. His face was furiously intent, and his eyes were narrowed. He hustled Guy toward a door, barely visible around the corner, that Cami saw led to the guest bathroom. She hadn’t even noticed it there. Connor must have analyzed his entire environment the moment he walked in. Guy was shouting and protesting, but using sheer brute force, Connor shoved him inside, grabbed the key from the latch, and locked the door on him.
“Now, let’s go see what’s going on,” Connor muttered to Cami.
He whirled around, racing down the corridor toward the sound of the scream.
As Cami followed Connor down the wide, tiled corridor, she could hear the screams more clearly. They were coming from a room at the end of the corridor that she guessed was the master bedroom. There was the white-painted door ahead.
Did he have a victim inside? What was going on? The sound of those terrified voices had hit her right in the solar plexus. She dreaded to think what she would find when they got through the door ahead.
It was like something out of a nightmare, she thought. It was like something in a fantasy online game, even. It shouldn’t be real life, but it was. Now, in addition to the screams from ahead, Cami could hear bellows and bashes from the guest restroom where Guy was imprisoned. It sounded as if he was bludgeoning the door with his shoulders. She guessed that with his hands cuffed behind him, it was all he could do.
The master bedroom door was closed, but not locked, to Cami’s surprise. Connor wrenched it open.
The bedroom was large, luxurious, and messy with black furnishings and dark art on the walls. There was the bed, with black satin covers that looked rumpled and disturbed.
And, from under the bed, a hand was groping.
Cami felt her heart stop when she saw that hand, the fingers flexing as if in appeal. A woman’s hand. Pale skin. Deep red nails.
“Let us out!” The voice came again. “We’re trapped under here! We got in and now we can’t get out! Please, help!”
Connor ran over to the bed. He picked up a corner of it. It looked heavy and difficult to move. Cami rushed to help him, grabbing the side, hauling it up with all her strength.
Together—mostly by virtue of Connor’s efforts—they raised the bed enough for the two women under it to crawl out.
As they did, Cami stared anew. She had not thought this entire situation could get weirder, but a whole new level had been reached.
These women were prostitutes, she realized. They were heavily made up and dressed in ultra-revealing, colorful, anime costumes and harsh, garish makeup.
One wore red lingerie with a bright blue wig, and the other wore a yellow mini dress and a pink wig. Each had bare legs and high heels.
The one in the yellow dress was clearly in distress. She was sobbing and shaking. She looked terrified. The woman in the red lingerie seemed scared, but more controlled.
Cami didn’t know where to look as the two women sat on the bed. The one in the blue wig reached for a sheer sweater and pulled it on. It didn’t make much difference to the general level of semi-nudity. She ended up staring at the Persian rug on the floorboards.
“We are just friends,” the lingerie woman explained. “We are just friends of…of this man.”
“Whose name you don’t seem very familiar with?” Connor asked cynically.
“Just friends,” she repeated.
Connor sighed. “You’re not here against your will?”
“No, absolutely not. We got scared when we heard the knocking. We didn’t know what had happened, so we got under the bed.”
“We thought he’d brought…er…brought in a friend or something we had not agreed to,” the other woman said. Then, realizing what she’d said, she began to cry.