“American Diner,” Eve’s boss said, his crusty voice distinctive.
“I’m looking for Eve Clegg.”
“Not here,” he grunted. “She didn’t show up for her shift.”
“Didn’t show?—”
“Look, whoever you are, when you see her, tell her she’s fired.”
“But she never misses work.”
“Not my problem.” He ended the call with a bang.
CHAPTER FIFTY-FIVE
Eve blinked hard.She couldn’t move. Crap! Where was she? Strapped to a bed.She knew that much.Even her head was secured. The scent of Pine Sol burned the insides of her nose.
The last thing she remembered was a man in black shirt, jeans, and silver-tipped boots reaching into the bush where she was hiding. He seized her by the neck. She pepper sprayed him. He screamed but didn’t lose hold. Then a siren blasted.
Had paramedics rescued her? If so, why was she restrained? She could wiggle her fingers and her toes. Nothing was broken. No spinal injury.
She strained to look left. Yellow lines bounced up and down on the monitor by the bed. Wires were running from the monitor to someplace on her body. Her forehead, not her heart. Was the monitor recording her brain waves?
She tried to scream but could only produce a grunt. That was when she realized her mouth was sealed shut.
Breathe through your nose. Breathe. In, out, in, out.
More Pine Sol fumes. Claustrophobia threatened to undo her.
Again using peripheral vision, she took in the room. Others. There were others!
Like her. Restrained in the beds.
A whoosh followed by a gust of air rattled her bed. A hydraulically-operated door must have opened somewhere. She couldn’t see anybody but heard two sets of footfalls—hard-soled and squeaky—making their way across the floor.
The smell of one of the men arrived before he did. Body odor and booze. A ripe combination. His face came into view above hers, and she recoiled. Him! The man in the silver-tipped boots.
He grinned, exposing a mouthful of retro-style braces, and tightened one of her Velcro straps. “In case you were wondering, your pal Ashley might have gotten away, but I’ve got a man who is going to take her down.”
Eve glared at him.
He snorted. “Oh, yeah, you’re scaring me, babe.Not.Hey, Zach.”
“Yeah, Troy?”
Troy. Eve stiffened. Kayla’s aborted blind date had the name Troy.
“See these tests?” Troy thumped something to Eve’s right. It sounded like a clipboard. “This hellcat is quite a specimen. Good essential makeup. Aggressive but nothing that can’t be fixed.”
Eve wondered if she could cajole Zach into helping her. Where was he?
Troy returned his attention to her. “I know you want to be released, babe, but tough luck. You’ll be gracing our fine establishment for at least another twenty-four hours. It’s final testing time. By the way”—he held a piece of paper at reading distance from Eve’s eyes—“see this? You signed a legal agreement, which means we can do whatever we want to your sweet bod.”
Eve’s insides clenched. If the autograph was a fake, it was a good one.
Troy said, “Remarkable how legit handwriting looks even after a heavy dose of K2-4, right, Zach?”
K2-4?What the hell is that?
