clothes before Dob hauled her into the last room on the left.
“Here’s where we’ll be doin’ you.”
She winced at the choice of words. He started describing the equipment and filming process. So was this porn or prostitution? Or both? Or…God help her…snuff films?
“Um, who’s, like, directing?” she asked, trying to appear naïve and trusting.
“The tr— other talent dictates what you do. It’s for a series of videos,” he added when she frowned. “Something like ‘Your Favorite Fantasy,’ I don’t know. But the guy chooses what you wear, what you say, and usually tells you what to do during the shoot.”
So porn, but that still didn’t fit with everything she heard. “Like a reality show?” she asked, just to keep him talking.
“Ha!” He shouted the laugh. “Yeah, sure, something like that.”
“Come back tomorrow night,” Skav said from behind her. She hadn’t heard him come up the stairs and cursed her inattention. “Nine o’clock. We’ll have everything ready. Then we want you every night after that. Contract states a week, but we might want you for a bonus.” He waggled his eyebrows, and her stomach turned at the implication that he meant himself. Or all three of them. She told herself she wouldn’t be here long enough for the “bonus,” but that didn’t help any of the other girls they no doubt used for whatever this really was. It had to be stopped, but she had to figure out a way to do so without incriminating herself.
None of the guys walked her downstairs, and it felt weird to have gone to all that trouble to get inside, then try to escape, and now be able to walk out unchallenged. She hesitated on the front walk, seeing no cars or a side gate or anything leading to a different way in. She’d better not push her luck—she headed straight out the front and hoped they didn’t spot her and question it.
Her adrenaline had been rushing since she’d first heard tires on gravel, and as soon as she got outside the gate to safety, she crashed. Weak knees, blurred vision, cold sweat. She staggered to the street lamp and grabbed on to hold herself upright. Fear faded, replaced by excitement. She’d done it! She’d infiltrated the enemy stronghold. In less than twenty-four hours, if things went right, she’d know who he was and where to find him. If she could also collect some evidence of what they were doing with the women they filmed, maybe she wouldn’t have to go after him herself.
She wasn’t sure that would be enough, though. Confronting him, getting answers to what he and Brian had been doing, why he’d tried to kill them, drove her as much as getting out from under his cloud. She wanted him to see her, watch her as his world fell apart—or his life drained out of him—and know she was responsible and why.
What was going on in that house would be his downfall, for sure.
But she would be his demise.
…
Reese was seriously dragging by the time she got back to her house. Her eyelids didn’t want to go above half-mast, and her brain was barely conscious of her movements. So while part of her was aware that the porch light was no longer on and that, as tired as she was, she should have been humming with electricity and wasn’t, she didn’t have the wherewithal to interpret it. When she aimed her key at the front door lock and the door opened, she didn’t react in time to avoid the hand grabbing her arm. It yanked her inside, slamming the door behind her.
She stumbled in the dark but adrenaline came surging back. Fight or flight?
Fight , she decided. She could vaguely see a darker shape against the far wall, moving to her right, so she moved to her left. When she reached out, seeking electricity to use as a weapon, she realized there was no current moving through the house. The intruder had shut off the power, probably at the breaker box in the kitchen. That frightened her even more.
Who’d learned her secret?
Her body was still obeying her command to
“Here’s where we’ll be doin’ you.”
She winced at the choice of words. He started describing the equipment and filming process. So was this porn or prostitution? Or both? Or…God help her…snuff films?
“Um, who’s, like, directing?” she asked, trying to appear naïve and trusting.
“The tr— other talent dictates what you do. It’s for a series of videos,” he added when she frowned. “Something like ‘Your Favorite Fantasy,’ I don’t know. But the guy chooses what you wear, what you say, and usually tells you what to do during the shoot.”
So porn, but that still didn’t fit with everything she heard. “Like a reality show?” she asked, just to keep him talking.
“Ha!” He shouted the laugh. “Yeah, sure, something like that.”
“Come back tomorrow night,” Skav said from behind her. She hadn’t heard him come up the stairs and cursed her inattention. “Nine o’clock. We’ll have everything ready. Then we want you every night after that. Contract states a week, but we might want you for a bonus.” He waggled his eyebrows, and her stomach turned at the implication that he meant himself. Or all three of them. She told herself she wouldn’t be here long enough for the “bonus,” but that didn’t help any of the other girls they no doubt used for whatever this really was. It had to be stopped, but she had to figure out a way to do so without incriminating herself.
None of the guys walked her downstairs, and it felt weird to have gone to all that trouble to get inside, then try to escape, and now be able to walk out unchallenged. She hesitated on the front walk, seeing no cars or a side gate or anything leading to a different way in. She’d better not push her luck—she headed straight out the front and hoped they didn’t spot her and question it.
Her adrenaline had been rushing since she’d first heard tires on gravel, and as soon as she got outside the gate to safety, she crashed. Weak knees, blurred vision, cold sweat. She staggered to the street lamp and grabbed on to hold herself upright. Fear faded, replaced by excitement. She’d done it! She’d infiltrated the enemy stronghold. In less than twenty-four hours, if things went right, she’d know who he was and where to find him. If she could also collect some evidence of what they were doing with the women they filmed, maybe she wouldn’t have to go after him herself.
She wasn’t sure that would be enough, though. Confronting him, getting answers to what he and Brian had been doing, why he’d tried to kill them, drove her as much as getting out from under his cloud. She wanted him to see her, watch her as his world fell apart—or his life drained out of him—and know she was responsible and why.
What was going on in that house would be his downfall, for sure.
But she would be his demise.
…
Reese was seriously dragging by the time she got back to her house. Her eyelids didn’t want to go above half-mast, and her brain was barely conscious of her movements. So while part of her was aware that the porch light was no longer on and that, as tired as she was, she should have been humming with electricity and wasn’t, she didn’t have the wherewithal to interpret it. When she aimed her key at the front door lock and the door opened, she didn’t react in time to avoid the hand grabbing her arm. It yanked her inside, slamming the door behind her.
She stumbled in the dark but adrenaline came surging back. Fight or flight?
Fight , she decided. She could vaguely see a darker shape against the far wall, moving to her right, so she moved to her left. When she reached out, seeking electricity to use as a weapon, she realized there was no current moving through the house. The intruder had shut off the power, probably at the breaker box in the kitchen. That frightened her even more.
Who’d learned her secret?
Her body was still obeying her command to
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