A Bedtime Story Read online

  There were three men already inside the room. A short stocky one in a pinstripe suit sat behind a massive mahogany desk facing them. He immediately stood up to greet them, an ugly sneer marring his face. The other two could have passed for Secret Service agents, complete with black suits and earpieces, if not for the AK-47s they carried. They stood stoically against the walls on either sides of the room.

  She stopped right in her tracks and turned to Kayne abruptly. “What is this? What’s happening?” she hissed through clenched teeth.

  His expression was detached, his eyes cold and intense, just as they had been the first time she noticed him. A shiver ran down her spine. He didn’t answer her. Never breaking eye contact, he slowly shut the door. With his hands behind him, he leaned back into it, effectively blocking the only exit. He simply nudged his head in the stocky man’s direction, who was unsuccessfully trying to get Laura’s attention.

  “Miss Spencer, how lovely to finally meet you. Let me introduce myself. I’m Maxwell Bane. Please, have a seat.”

  Laura quickly turned her head to Maxwell at the mention of her name, then right back to Kayne, bewilderment now in her eyes. “Kayne, what is this? How does he know my name?” Her breath quickened, her voice barely above a whisper.

  “He just wants to talk, Laura. Have a seat.” His voice was commanding, devoid of any sympathy.

  Maxwell began again, this time, the gentleness in his tone more forced, his words articulated. “Miss Spencer, please have a seat. All I am asking is for a little friendly talk. Let’s keep things nice, shall we? I would hate to resort to more… persuasive methods…” Laura finally turned to face him. “Please… Mr. Bane… I am sure this is a complete misunderstanding…”

  “Is it? Are you not Miss Laura Spencer?”

  “Yes… but—”

  “Sister of Peter Spencer?”

  Her face instantly paled, her mouth opened then closed, without releasing a sound. So this is what it was about. Oh, Peter, Peter, what have you done? She knew he had gotten involved with bad things, bad people. He had been doing drugs for as long as she could remember, but it was only in the last few years he had gotten seriously into the harsher stuff. He completely changed, became paranoid, she barely saw him anymore. But she held on to what she had, he was her only family. About eight months ago, he had come to see her at her apartment. He was acting very weird, thought he was being followed. All he said was that he had to disappear for a while, until things blow over. He had told her how much he loved her and how sorry he was, that he would write to her so she could know he was alive and well. He proceeded to explain to her a secret code he’d constructed to ensure a secure communication. She started receiving his postcards about two months after, every two weeks, sometimes three, never more than that. She never believed anyone was after him. But she didn’t have it in her to fight his drug-induced paranoia, and so she resigned herself to kiss every postcard and burn it after reading, as instructed.

  “What is this about? What do you want with him?” Her voice was firmer, her tone defensive.

  “Miss Spencer, please have a seat. We just want to ask you a few questions about Peter.”

  “I don’t know where he is. I haven’t spoken to him in almost a year.”

  “Oh, come now… We know that’s not true. We know for a fact that you know where he is. We just want to talk to him, that’s it.” “Bullshit,” she mumbled to herself. “You’re wrong. I don’t know where he is. I’m sorry.”

  Maxwell squeezed the top of his nose with two stubby fingers, clearly starting to lose patience. “Miss Spencer, I was hoping we could be civil about this. I don’t think you understand the severity of your situation. Maybe my friends can help.” He waved his arm toward one of the men by the wall.

  She shuddered with dread. She did understand, she understood too well. What they didn’t understand was that she would never, under any circumstance, betray her brother. Peter, her brother, her only friend, her only family. Peter, who bandaged her wounds when she was still a child and held her at night when she had nightmares. Peter, who taught her how to lie so they could stay together when they were minors, who skipped supper more than once so she could get dessert to finish off her meals. Peter, who sacrificed everything, for her. No, she understood. Tonight, she would not leave this room alive. A whimper escaped her lips. She turned back to Kayne slowly, the familiar sadness back in her glistening grey eyes.

  Her voice was soft, wavering. “Please… please… I really don’t know… You have to believe me.”

  He remained unmoved, staring her straight in the eye. “I’m not the one you have to convince. My job was just to get you here.”

  She just stared at him, hurt and betrayal in her eyes. “How could you do this to me?” It was so silly, and yet she couldn’t help herself. “So… that was your plan… the entire evening?”

  The faintest smile crossed his lips as he reached into his back pocket and pulled out her missing wallet.

  “You’re a monster…” She wasn’t saying it out of spite, just acknowledging it quietly to herself, amazed at the realization.

  He didn’t respond. Instead, he stepped forward and grabbed her firmly by the arm, though not unkindly, and pulled her toward the chair. She didn’t resist, simply allowing her limbs to be dragged. As he sat her in the chair, she looked up, her eyes reflecting a mix of pleading and panic.

  “So that’s it? You’re just going to leave me here with them?”

  If only for an instant his eyes softened, his tone remained impassive. “Do you want me to stay?”

  She realized the perverse irony. He had brought her here. He was the reason for all of this. But right now, yes, she wanted him to stay. Somehow, she felt safer with him around. Her voice broke into a little sob, and she nodded shamefully, letting out the faintest “yes.”

  He nodded his head slowly, then with the tip of his fingers, he lifted her head ever so gently to force her to look him in the eye. “Okay. I will.”

  He walked to the back of the room and took a seat facing her, backing the chair against the wall. The two men in black closed in on her, proceeding to handcuff her hands and feet to each side of the chair. Her breathing quickened. Maxwell was grinning perversely, waiting for her to be settled. He looked back at Kayne, with a casualness reserved for old buddies.

  “So you’ll be joining us? Ah, just like good old times.” He winked. “Nostalgic, are we?” He let out a sickening chuckle to which Kayne responded with a cold smile. Maxwell then turned all his attention back to the helpless girl tied up in front of him. “It saddens me, Miss Spencer, to have to resort to such measures. This could have been easily avoided. I do not wish you harm, but let me make myself clear: I will get my answers. You will talk, one way or another.”

  “But I swear… I don’t know…” She sobbed quietly.

  “Very well then. If that’s how you want to play, have it your way.” His voice was stern as he motioned to the man identified as Carlo to bring some sort of medieval-looking iron instrument seemingly straight out of the Spanish Inquisition. Removing her left shoe, Carlo then proceeded to insert her foot in the contraption.

  He began twisting one of the dials. A sharp pain shot through her entire body. She screamed in agony as her sobs intensified, repeating over and over again the same few words: “Please, I don’t know, I swear.” But the dial kept twisting, intensifying the pain. She thought she might pass out. She could barely make sense of what Maxwell was shouting. She threw a look in Kayne’s direction, her vision blurred with tears. He was sitting calmly, his legs spread wide open on the chair, leaning forward, with his elbows resting on his knees. He was slowly inhaling a freshly lit cigarette. He returned her stare, emotionless.

  He truly was a monster. How naïve she was to think his presence would benefit her condition. Despair began to invade her thoughts, and she prayed she would pass out soon. Without warning, the pain stopped. Maxwell kept repeating her name, seeking her attention. He insisted on calling
her Miss Spencer, with his eloquent speech and gentleman mannerisms. It was all a farce, a cruel joke she had walked into of her own accord. And why? Because a handsome stranger had also played the gentleman. Just as she was starting to catch her breath, she felt the sting of cold metal on each side of her little finger. Carlo was holding garden shears, trapping her left pinky in between the blades. Awaiting Maxwell’s instructions, he applied just enough pressure that she made no attempt to move. With cold terror in her eyes, she looked around frantically, resembling a cornered wild animal. She repeated the same words, even screaming, her vocabulary dwindling to please and no. Maxwell’s smile was full-on sadistic. There would be no mercy there. Was there ever? No, he was taking pleasure in this. It was more than a means to an end. She instinctively fell back to Kayne, pleading with all she had, her words, her tears, her eyes, her uncontrollable heaving.

  “Enough.” His voice echoed in the room. In response to Maxwell’s inquisitive look, he finally broke eye contact with Laura long enough to tell him to leave them. He wasn’t asking. Maxwell seemed displeased with the turn of events but also seemed to know better than to defy a direct order. He gestured to his men, and they all left the room quietly.

  Kayne got up, unhurriedly making his way over to face Laura. Resting slightly on the edge of the desk with his arms crossed, he patiently stared at her, waiting for her to regain some kind of composure. He only spoke to her when her heaving stopped and she finally lifted her head to meet his eyes.

  “You love your brother very much.” He waited for her to nod in agreement before continuing. “And you are very loyal to him, I can respect that. You think there’s nothing we can do that will make you talk, that you’d die for him if you had to. But that’s not how it goes. Trust me, Laura, I know. Everyone has a breaking point. Everyone talks. The only thing that ever changes is the state they’re in when they do.”

  She broke down again. “What do you want with him?” she sniffled, her nose running.

  “Information. Information he stole.” His voice remained calm.

  “You’re going to kill him… and you’ll kill me regardless of what I say…” she whispered softly, still gasping for breath.

  “Cooperate, and I give you my word. You will leave this room alive.”

  She laughed sardonically. “You give me your word? Oh, what a relief!”

  “Think about it, Laura, I haven’t lied to you once. I don’t lie.”

  “Seriously? You’re gonna pull that—” Before she could utter the word shit, he raised his brow at her. He apparently didn’t like cursing.

  “You said you had to drop something off.”

  “I did.” He grinned wickedly.

  Of course, she was the thing. She felt her Long Island Iced Tea coming back up. “I followed you here… You didn’t even have to drug me or force me…” Her disbelief and bitterness bled through her words. “Why go through this charade?”

  He actually smiled at that. “Don’t beat yourself up about it. I would have brought you here one way or another. I thought you’d prefer my way,” he taunted.

  “You really are a monster.” This time, she was saying it to his benefit, her soft voice cracking. She broke down again, muttering to herself, “Oh god, oh god, please help me.”

  “You think God can help you? No, Laura, God can’t help you. I may be a monster, but I’m the only one who can help you right now.”

  She didn’t respond, didn’t know how to respond. So she lowered her eyes to the ground and repeated the same words, caught in a hellish loop. “I don’t know where he is.”

  He approached, kneeling down on one knee so he was at eye level with her. He lifted her head, in the same gentle way he had done earlier. “Look at me.” He waited until she did. “I’m offering you help. I understand you want to protect him, but don’t ever lie to me,” he spat, his stare cold and ruthless, making her shiver.

  “Here is what I am offering you, Laura, I don’t want you to tell me where he is.”

  She remained quiet, opting for the safety of silence. She held his gaze as he stood back up, a lingering hope flickering into her eyes. “What I want is for you to tell me something, anything, to lead us in his direction. I don’t want his specific location. Just the city he’s in.”

  “So you can find him and kill him.”

  “Or not. It could take us over a week to track him. He might even be gone by then. Don’t you see what I’m offering you? I’m offering you a chance to get out of this alive while still being able to live with yourself.” He could see her thinking it over, hundred thoughts racing in her mind.

  “But—”

  “No buts, Laura. It’s a good offer. It’s a very generous offer. And it will expire soon. I’m going to count to five. If I don’t have the name of a city by then, I’m walking out of here. And no one, not God, not anyone, will stop what’s to come. Do you understand?” She nodded nervously. As he began to count, she stopped him at one, anything to bide her time. “I could lie, how would you know?”

  By the way his eyes narrowed and his jaw tensed, she instantly regretted the words that had just left her mouth. She cringed as he approached, leaning into her ear, his voice deceptively soft. “You could. But I would strongly advise against it. I will find out. And when I do, I will personally continue what they have started. Not for answers, not for the truth, but for the sheer joy of it. I will make a masterpiece out of you. Do you understand me, Laura?” She nodded her head frantically, terrified.

  He grabbed her chin tightly and forced eye contact as he uttered his warning. His voice was harsh, as he emphasized each word. “Whatever you do. Never. Lie. To me.” And then he resumed his count. “Two, three, four—”

  “Boston! He’s in Boston.” Devastated, she broke down, her body barely supporting her. He grabbed her by the chin again and studied her features, trying to read into them. Her mascara was running down her cheeks, her face contorted in pain. She was a mess.

  He knew from the torment reflected in her eyes, she told the truth. Still, he asked, “Boston, are you sure?”

  “Yes…” she wailed, her body shaking uncontrollably.

  He left her side. The next thing she knew, she was alone in the room. She could hear voices on the other side, as if Maxwell and Kayne were arguing, their tones restrained.

  They eventually reentered the room. Kayne walked straight to her, determined, followed by Maxwell, venom dripping from his strained features. Kayne briefly looked her in the eye then proceeded to unshackle her. She was confused. Were they going to kill her now? But then why unshackle her? Kayne lifted her to her feet with a firm hold, ignoring Maxwell’s presence.

  “You’re coming with me,” he answered her questioning look as he dragged her impatiently out of the room.

  “Where are you taking me?” she asked softly, the fight in her long gone.

  “To my home. You’ll be under my supervision.” Sensing her hesitation, he snapped at her, annoyed, “Unless you would prefer me to leave you here?”

  She shook her head vehemently in response.

  “Good. Let’s go.” As they were about to pass through the door, he stopped, turning to face her. “It’s a long drive. I expect you to behave. If you try to reach out to anyone, even just to make eye contact, I will kill them. And you will finish the ride in my trunk. Understood?”

  She nodded, her eyes wide with alarm.

  “I want to hear you say it.”

  “I understand,” she quivered.

  He nodded his approval, smiled, and brushed her cheek with the back of his hand. “Good girl.”

  She remained perfectly still. If this gesture was meant to be soothing, it had the total opposite effect. She felt her insides churn with revulsion. To think that not so long ago, a couple of hours actually, the same touch would have had her dreaming for days. That already seemed so long ago, like another life, one that was never really hers. It was funny, she thought, this should feel surreal, but it didn’t. Everything leading up to this
ill-fated room was the dream. The nice club, the flirtations with a handsome stranger, those were the illusion. The nightmare that followed, that was reality.

  He opened the passenger door for her and helped her in, always the gentleman. The drive was quiet, the roads empty. Dawn was creeping in. It was past five in the morning, and she was exhausted, but she refused to shut her eyes, wanting to maintain some type of control, however small, in her life. About twenty minutes into the drive, as she was losing her battle to fatigue, the sound of his voice startled her.

  “While you’re under my roof, there are three simple rules you need to follow, the first you’ve already been warned of. Never lie to me. Never disobey me. Never disrespect me.”

  The warning snapped her senses fully awake, and she nodded her head meekly in response.

  “Here, wipe your face.” He handed her a tissue, which she tentatively reached for. He then proceeded to place a call via the Bluetooth in his car. A gentle female voice came on the speaker, with the unmistakable patient and kind tone older women adopted when speaking to their offspring.

  “Master Kayne.”

  “Hi, Olga.” His voice was soft, in a way Laura didn’t think possible. “Olga, please set up the bedroom in the eastern wing. We will have a… guest… staying with us…” He eyed Laura with an indiscernible smile.

  “Yes, Master Kayne, anything else?”

  “Yes. Please ask Lucas to set up the B security system.”

  “Yes, Master Kayne. Will that be all?”

  “Yes, thank you, Olga.” He was smiling to himself, a true warm smile, like the million-dollar one he flashed her at the club. So if it wasn’t all an act, who was that man? She was getting a room? That was a good thing, she assumed, hopefully with a lock on the inside. It hadn’t even crossed her mind to worry about her new living conditions before, she was so glad to be out of the room.