Swimsuit - James Patterson [5]
Kim turned her head harder to the left, stretched her neck with tremendous effort, and saw a man sitting in a chair. He was wearing earphones, and he pulled them down from his head so that they were resting on his collarbones.
Her first look at the man who’d taken her.
She didn’t know him.
He had medium-length hair, was maybe in his late thirties. He had regular features that could almost be called handsome. He was muscular, wearing form-fitting, expensive-looking clothes, a gold watch she’d seen in Vanity Fair. Patek Philippe. The man in the chair looked to her like the actor who played the lead in the latest James Bond movie, Daniel Craig.
He put the earphones back on and closed his eyes as he listened. He was ignoring her.
“Hey! Mister! I’m talking to you!” Kim shouted.
“You should hear this,” the man said. He named the music, told her that he knew the artist, that this was a first studio cut.
He stood, brought the headphones over to her, and put one of the earpieces against her ear.
“Isn’t that great?”
Kim’s escape plan evaporated. She’d missed her big chance at seduction. She thought, Whatever he wants to do, he’s going to do. But she could still beg for her life. Tell him it will be more fun if she participated — but her mind was scrambled from the injection he gave her and she felt woozy, too weak to move.
She looked into the man’s light gray eyes, and he looked back as though he felt affection for her. Maybe she could use that. She said, “Listen to me. People know I’m missing. Important people. Life Incorporated. You’ve heard of them? I have a curfew. All the models do. The police are already looking for me…”
“James Blond,” as she suddenly thought of him, said to her, “I wouldn’t worry about the police, Kim. I was very careful.” He sat beside her on the bed, placed his hand on her cheek admiringly. Then he put on blue latex gloves.
He lifted something from a nail in the wall, a mask of some sort, and when he put it on, his features became distorted. And very scary.
“What are you doing? What are you doing?”
Kim’s screams ricocheted around the small room. The man said, “That was great. Could you do that again? Are you ready, Kim?”
He walked around to each of the cameras, checked the angle through the lenses, turned them on. The bright lights blazed.
Kim followed the blue gloves as they whisked the satin sheet away from her body. It was cool in the room, but the sweat immediately beaded up on her skin. She knew.
He was going to rape her.
“You don’t have to do this,” she said.
“I do.”
Kim started keening, a whimper that rose to a cry. She turned her face away, stared toward the closed windows, heard the nameless stranger’s belt buckle hit the floor. She began sobbing without reservation as she felt the drag of latex running over her breasts, the feeling in her groin as he opened her with his mouth, the blunt feel of him pushing his way in, her muscles tightening to stop him from entering her.
His breath was soft against her face as he spoke into her ear.
“Just go along with this, Kim. Just go along. I’m sorry, but it’s a job I’m doing for a lot of money. These people watching are big fans of yours. Try to understand.”
“I want you to die,” she said. She bit down on his wrist, drawing blood, and then he hit her, slapped her hard on each of her cheeks. Tears made her skin sting.
She wanted to pass out, but she was still conscious, very much under the blond stranger’s body, hearing him grunting, feeling — too much. So she did her best to block out everything but the sound of the waves and thoughts about what she would do to him when she got away.
Chapter 6
WHEN KIM WOKE UP she was sitting in a bathtub of warm water, leaning with her back against the sloping rim, her hands tied under the suds.
The blond stranger was on a stool beside her, washing her with a sea sponge as naturally as though he’d bathed her many times before.
Kim’s stomach heaved, and she vomited bile into the tub. The stranger stood her up in one powerful swoop, saying “Alley Oops,” and she noticed again how strong