Captured
by
Victoria Calaway
Captured
Copyright 2011 Victoria Calaway
Published by Books of Desire Publishing
P.O. Box 71813
Newnan, GA 30271
Smashwords Edition
Smashwords License Notes
This e-book is licensed for your personal enjoyment only. This ebook may not be re-sold or given away to other people. If you would like to share this book with another person, please purchase an additional copy for each recipient. If you’re reading this book and did not purchase it, or it was not purchased for your use only, then please return to Smashwords.com and purchase your own copy. Thank you for respecting the hard work of this author
Chapter One
“Your assignment,” stated an undercover agent’s supervisor in the Federal Secret Investigations, “is to get evidence to support claims made by prominent people. What we have, so far, are statements that certain, prominent men have been blackmailed by being shown videos of themselves with this woman.” He tossed down a photo of a striking woman in her mid-twenties, her hair fiery red, and her body so fine that it appeared sculpted to perfection. “Hundreds of thousands of dollars.”
The undercover agent studied the picture closely. “Where is she?”
“Reportedly, here in Chicago.”
“These reported victims have no copies of the videos?”
“No. They were shown the video at the time of the blackmail demand. The tape was taken when they left. The woman has an accomplice. She’s telling everyone he’s her brother, but we’ve since discovered that he is in fact her husband. So far, we’ve got reports from five states.” He tossed another picture on the desk.
The undercover agent studied the second photo carefully. The man’s dark eyes seemed evil and piercing, and his head had a prominent baldness, with dark hair only around the back and sides of his head. There seemed no resemblance whatsoever between the man and the woman that would make anyone believe they were related.
“OK. Obviously they’ve offered proof they were blackmailed, so what’s the plan?”
“We’ll have to get your name and photo plastered all over the city at the next main event here. With the announcement that you’re a billionaire, she’ll come to you.” The supervisor gave him the rest of the details, then asked, “Any questions?”
“No. I can handle it.”
“Good. We need those videos. Find out where they’re keeping them. We haven’t been able to locate a safe deposit box in any bank so far, so they must be keeping the tapes with them. I’m sure they aren’t destroying them after they get their money. They can always go back for more, so let’s make sure they don’t. Remember, they’re considered dangerous. We believe they’ve killed twice already.” There may have been other murders, remained unspoken.
The undercover agent got to his feet, nodding in understanding. “I’ll be in touch.”
Leslie Trevor sat on the sofa in the living room of the apartment she shared with her best friend, Isabelle Harris. Isabelle sat in her favorite chair, one long, shapely leg dangling across the armrest, her attention focused on the television that sat in the corner of the room, a music video on the screen. Leslie scanned the newspaper, as she had been doing every day for the past two weeks, in hopes of finding a new job with a more secure future. Working for a local temporary service was not her idea of a career.
She envied Isabelle. Now, she had a career! Isabelle worked as an executive for a top hair care company in downtown Chicago, earned a very decent salary, had a great boss, and had benefits galore. Leslie, on the other hand, had only a small hourly rate and nothing more, not even vacation time. Although she had more than five years secretarial skills under her belt, having worked in as many posh environments as she had the more casual places, she was no better off now than she had been when she first started. She hadn’t yet found a permanent position. To be more precise, the service hadn’t found one for her as she’d been told they would do, which made her wonder if they’d even tried. Having finally tired of running from job to job all over the city, she’d resorted to searching the classifieds in more earnest these days, craving for a change to something more secure, perhaps even something challenging.
“Any plans for this weekend?” Isabelle asked, interrupting Leslie’s study of the classifieds.
She lowered the paper, peering over the top of it at her friend. “When do I ever have plans? Since I moved here, I haven’t had any luck with finding a suitable date for anything. The last guy who asked me out wanted to take me to a kiddy pizza place, for crying out loud. He wanted to play arcade games!” She shook her head in disbelief that a grown man would actually want to take a woman on a first date to such a place.
“You could go out with Chad. I think he’d like you, and he’s not the type to go to kiddy pizza places.” Isabelle grinned.
Leslie scrunched up her nose. “I don’t think so.”
“He’s nice looking, owns a top law firm, is a great, sexy wrestler, and I still say he’d like you.”
“No, he wouldn’t, because I don’t like him. He was a jerk when you introduced us, and I don’t think he’s an attorney at all. He’s a professional wrestler. That I have proof of, so when would he have time to practice law? And another thing…please! A certain amount of arrogance is attractive, but he’s swarming with it, and with something else I’m too much of a lady to say aloud!”
Chad Powers’ law firm represented the company where Isabelle worked. The first time Isabelle had met him, she thought he’d be perfect for Leslie. Attractive, charming, quite a gentleman, a man who carried himself well, and one she felt sure would be to Leslie’s liking. Plus, Leslie liked wrestling and watched him on TV every week, having made the comment more than once on how sexy she thought the man to be.
A few nights ago, she and Leslie went to a concert together, and afterwards, they’d stopped in for a drink at their favorite nightspot. As they sat at one end of the bar, enjoying a drink and chatting about the concert, they noticed a short, chubby, balding man eyeing them through coke-bottle thick glasses. The glasses caused his eyes to appear to bulge out of their sockets, and he had so many freckles that he actually looked like a frog. Ignoring the man didn’t seem to thwart his attention, for he suddenly got up and moved to sit beside Isabelle. Ordering refills of their drinks without their consent concerned both women to such an extent, they left the drinks untouched, and got up to leave before the situation could escalate.
As bad luck would have it, the man slid off his stool and unsteadily stood in their way. “Hey, I just bought drinks for you two. The least you can do is enjoy them. I’m sure you can show your gratitude out back in my car.”
“Excuse me?” Isabelle instantly blasted him, her heart pounding so hard that it hurt. She refused to let him see her fear. “Do we look like easy pick-ups to you? I’m sure you can find what you need on a street corner downtown!” Before he could answer, she got nose-to-nose with the short, rotund man, suddenly forgetting to fear for her life. “Now, get out of our way.” She brushed past him, and when Leslie immediately started to follow, the man grabbed her arm in a vise-like grip. “Not you, honey. You can stay with me. Let the bitch go home.”
“Let go of me!” She tried twisting her arm from his grasp, only to succeed in causing him to grip harder. She grimaced from the pain of his grasp, certain she would have a painful bruise.
Suddenly, a large hand took the man’s wrist, squeezing powerfully enough that the man yelped and loosened his grip on Leslie’s arm.
“The lady said let go, so you let go,” came a deep, masculine voice that exuded a warning that sounded lethal.
“You’re breaking my wrist! Let go!” the balding man wailed.
“Apologize to the ladies,” he ordered, causing the man to mumble an apology that sounded far from sincere.
The next instant, his wrist was released, and the froggish man practically ran out of the door.
“Oh, my God!” Isabelle sank to the nearest barstool. “Chad! Thank God, you came when you did! Thank you!”
He smiled at Isabelle, then turned his attention to Leslie. “Are you all right?” His dark eyes raked over Leslie as if she stood before him with nothing on but a smile, a look that Leslie resented; yet she said nothing, because she was grateful for the rescue.
Leslie rubbed her bruised arm as she nodded. “Yes, thank you.”
“You’re very welcome.” He flashed a smile of perfect, white teeth that changed his already good looks to devastatingly handsome, which Leslie had seen many times before on television, but never in person until that moment.
It was that night when he’d rescued them from the froggy creep, that Isabelle had introduced them. While the two of them made small talk, Leslie had an opportunity to study him without being noticed. He stood well over six feet tall, and his powerful build would be the envy of any athlete. His hair shone raven black, cut in a biker’s style, then pulled back at the crown of his head with an elastic band, the length being long enough to hang to the center of his broad back. He had a well-kept mustache and beard that surrounded his mouth and chin, the rest of his face clean-shaven. When he smiled, it reached his dark brown eyes, seeming to make the color come to life with a sparkle. She found him fascinating to watch. He had a very expressive face and eyes. She had the notion she could get lost in his eyes alone. He did not in any way resemble an attorney, dressed in tight, black jeans, a western-plaid shirt and boots, but his build did give away the massiveness of a wrestler. You’re no attorney, she thought, still studying him, her eyes narrowing slightly.
“Let’s dance,” he’d said suddenly, sliding off the barstool and taking Leslie by the hand.
She automatically jerked back, obviously surprising him, for his eyes went wide. Even though he towered over her by a full foot or more in height, she had not been intimidated.
“Don’t you dare treat me like that! I’m not your personal property, and you are not going to jerk me around like some kind of puppet!” Realizing the ghastly frog-man before had left her in shock, she felt guilty for being so mean. After all, she felt sure he had saved her from a horrible fate. Even so, Chad had no right to expect anything of her.
She had then hurried away out of embarrassment, and hadn’t given him more than a glance since. When he’d next appeared on TV, she’d made an excuse to leave the room, only to return when he was off the screen.
Heaven only knew what gave Isabelle the idea that Chad would ever like her. It seemed even more improbable now, especially after such a brief, totally embarrassing, one-time meeting.
“You like him so much, you go out with him,” Leslie suddenly suggested, bringing herself back from her thoughts.
“I’m committed,” Isabelle reminded her. “Scott and I have plans to go to a movie matinee on Sunday. I thought that if you had a date, we could double. Maybe even go on a picnic at the park afterwards.”
“Thanks, but I don’t have a date. I had more luck staying on the farm. At least I had dates for the barn dances that farmers took turns having on Saturday nights.” She sighed heavily and lifted the paper in front of her face once again. A minute later, she sat up straight. “Hey! Listen to this! ‘Elderly woman seeks secretary-companion. Two years secretarial skills required. Apply in person. Penthouse Apartment, Rockwell Arms, East Erie Street.’ Wow! Now, that’s something I could do!”
“East Erie,” Isabelle repeated. “That’s downtown, not very far from where I work. There are several high-rise apartment buildings on that street. They’re very elegant, and very expensive. Did you say penthouse?”
Leslie looked at the ad again. “That’s what it says.”
“You’d better apply for that job as fast as you can, Les!” Isabelle and Leslie’s younger brother were the only people to use that shortened version of her name.
“I wonder if it’s too late to go over there?” She looked at her watch. Six o’clock.
“I wouldn’t think so, since it’s where she lives. Go on before someone else beats you to it!”
Convinced that it would be a great change for her, Leslie jumped up and hurried to her bedroom for a change of clothes.
A few minutes later, she presented herself before Isabelle, wearing a sleek, navy business suit, one she wore for her more formal jobs, her make-up light and professional, and her deep auburn hair fashioned into a French braid.
“How do I look? Good enough for a rich lady’s inspection?”
Isabelle studied Leslie’s appearance carefully, then said, “It’s perfect. Now, go get that job! Want a ride over?”
“I’ll take the bus, thanks.” With a smile, and a deep breath for courage and confidence, she hurried to the corner to wait for the bus.
Leslie got off the bus directly in front of the apartment building and looked up at the tall structure. Seeming to reach the sky, the fifty-one-story structure somehow held a glimmer of promise. Straightening to her full height of five-feet-four inches, she squared her shoulders and headed for the entrance. She walked up to a man in uniform at the door.
“I’m here about the ad in the paper for a secretary-companion position. It said to apply in person at the penthouse,” she told the doorman.
“Ah, yes. That would be for Mrs. Oglesfort. I’ll advise her that you’re on the way up. Your name?” When Leslie told him, he then said, “One moment, please.” The doorman used a phone from inside a metal box located just beside the door. A moment later, he turned to Leslie. “You may go on up. Follow me, please.”
Leslie followed him inside to an elevator, where the man inserted a key, pressed the button for the fifty-first floor, then stepped back.
“The elevator opens directly into the foyer. Someone will greet you. Good luck!”
Leslie smiled a thank you, then the elevator doors shut, enclosing her into a shiny silver cubicle that mirrored her reflection on all four sides. The next instant, the elevator whooshed upward, leaving her stomach somewhere on the ground floor. It didn’t stop until it reached the penthouse, and Leslie swallowed hard to tamp down the roiling of her stomach. That would take some getting used to! The doors opened, and Leslie came face-to-face with a woman in her early fifties, her hair swept into a twist, attired in a formal black and white maid’s uniform.
“Hello, Miss Trevor,” the woman greeted with a smile. “I’m Joann. Please, come in and make yourself comfortable. Mrs. Oglesfort will be with you shortly. I’ll bring some iced tea. Would you prefer sweet or unsweet?”
Leslie stepped out of the elevator and smiled. “Sweet with lemon, if you have it. Thank you. Oh, and please call me Leslie.”
Joann’s smile widened. “Leslie, it is. Come and be seated. I won’t be a minute.”
Leslie took three steps down and followed Joann into a spacious, elegant living room. The deeply padded, azure carpet made her feel sure she’d sunk to her ankles in it. Centered in the room sat a U-shaped sectional sofa in ivory leather, surrounding a glass-topped table with a centerpiece of freshly cut flowers in a wicker basket. Around the room were smaller, matching glass-topped tables and large, beautifully crafted ceramic pots containing various trees. The ivory walls were decorated with large oil paintings of waterfalls, lakes, and other natural water scenes. At the back of the room, floor to ceiling glass panels opened to a large balcony that allowed a spectacular view of the Chicago skyline. The glass doors were currently open, letting a warm breeze through the screens, the pale blue sheers gently billowing with the wind.
Leslie took a seat on the sofa and admired the beige and brown stone fireplace that took up the center portion of the wall near the elevator.
A few moments later, Joann returned, carrying a silver serving tray, containing tall glasses of iced tea, pastry plates, linen napkins, a plate of sugar cookies, and a plate of warm, buttered rolls.
“Thank you,” Leslie said graciously. “The rolls look wonderful!”
Joann smiled. “I made them myself. Try one. They melt in your mouth!”
Unable to resist, Leslie helped herself and bit into the fluffy roll. It did indeed melt in her mouth, and she closed her eyes to savor the flavor. She let out a pleasurable moan as she swallowed the delicate bread. “Oh, it’s absolutely heavenly!”
“Isn’t it?” came a feminine voice that caused her to look up.
Leslie’s eyes came to rest on a woman in her late fifties to early sixties, her hair white, her dark brown eyes sparkling and her body small and frail-looking. Her bright smile and apparent vibrant energy let Leslie know that she probably was not frail at all. That she wore shorts just above the knees, and a screen-printed T-shirt displaying a cartoon of Winnie the Pooh surprised Leslie. She didn’t think anyone rich would be likely to dress down in such a manner.
“Hi,” the woman greeted, as she sat down across from Leslie. “I’m Emma Oglesfort.” She reached out a hand toward Leslie, which Leslie accepted for a friendly shake.
Leslie quickly introduced herself as Joann gave her a small plate on which to place the roll she had taken, then quietly left the room.
Mrs. Oglesfort helped herself to a roll and a cookie. “Tell me about yourself, Leslie,” she urged. “Where you’re from, your marital status, your current job, your skills?”
“I grew up on a farm in southern Illinois, just outside a small town called Christopher. My parents raise cattle. I have one younger brother, who now runs the farm.
“I’m single, never married, and completely unattached. I attended two years at John Logan College, studying business, which is where I learned most of my skills.” She then explained about the temp-service, her desire to get a new job with a lasting employer, then finally, her living arrangements with her best friend.
“No men in your life at all?”
Leslie’s cheeks turned a delicate shade of pink. “No. Not even a steady date.”
Emma smiled. “What do you like to do in your spare time?”
“Mostly, I like music, dancing, if I had dates, and I have a routine of jogging every morning at the crack of dawn. I rarely watch television. I’d rather read a good book. I like bowling, movies, concerts, and going to plays.”
“I love reading! Do you like shopping?”
“Oh, sure! What woman doesn’t?” Leslie laughed, bringing a chuckle to Mrs. Oglesfort.
“I’ll explain the job, and then you can tell me if you want the position.” When Leslie nodded, the woman continued, “My name is Emma, which you may call me. The secretarial part isn’t for me. It’s for my nephew, who also lives here, but he’s rarely around because he travels a lot. When he is here, however, he’ll need someone very efficient, for which I think you’ll qualify. I know that a temp service tests you for qualifications, so I know you’ll be efficient with the number of years you’ve been there. The companionship part is for me. My husband passed away several months ago. I don’t work, so it gets rather lonely and boring. I volunteer at the hospital on Sunday, and I play cards every Monday with a group of ladies, therefore your off days would be Sunday and Monday.” She named a salary that made Leslie’s eyes widen, for it was almost twice what she currently made. “Of course, you’d have medical and dental coverage, a week’s paid vacation after six months, then two weeks a year after that. You won’t be required to drive me around. We have a chauffeur, and you’re more than welcome to have him drive you to any appointments, such as the doctor or dentist, or whatever. He has Sunday off, but you can have him drive you shopping on Mondays.
“The position requires that you live-in. You’d have your own bedroom and bath, free use of the kitchen, laundry room, library, and the rooftop pool and garden. On the main floor there’s a convenience store, a dry cleaners, and a fitness club. The fitness club is free for you as an employee here. You’ll love the sauna. It’s marvelous!
“My nephew has an office down the northern hall, across from the library, where he has a computer. You’d have use of it when working for him, and for Internet activity whenever you wish, as long as you’re on free time, which may be plenty when I’m reading or whatever on days that it’s either too hot or too cold to go out. Farther down the hall is an entertainment room with games, a pool table, a stereo system, a big screen television with theater surround-sound, a DVD player, and of course, cable. There’s a rack filled with movies, plus a rack filled with music CD’s of various artists and styles. Again, feel free to use them when you have free time.”
All the amenities caused her head to spin. She’d never had those kinds of luxuries, and to have them right at her fingertips boggled her mind. Surely, there had to be something wrong with this job! Then, a discouraging thought occurred. What if the problem turned out to be the nephew? Could it be possible that the job came with such enticing benefits that it made putting up with a crotchety old man worth it?
Emma interrupted her thoughts. “I’d like for my nephew to meet you before we finalize the job. I’ve interviewed several people today, but you seem to be the one I’d like to hire. I’ll call him right now and see when he can meet you.”
Thinking that meeting the old man might be a very good idea, Leslie nodded. Because of Emma’s age, she assumed her nephew would be in his early to mid-fifties.
After a moment on the phone, which sat on a table in one far corner of the room, Emma returned, her smile bright. “He says that I can make the decision on hiring you since he’d rarely need your secretarial services. He’s in a meeting and can’t come home right now. He’ll have to meet you at another time. Is that all right with you?”
Although Leslie would have preferred meeting him first, she seemed to have no choice if she wanted the job, and she did want it. “That’s fine,” she agreed, her mouth answering before her brain had a chance to really think it over.
“Good! It’s set then! When would you like to start?”
She chewed the inside of her lip for a moment as she gave it some thought, then she answered, “How about Monday? I should give the temp-service some kind of notice, as well as my roommate. It’s such short notice that she might have a cow, but she makes good money and can afford the place by herself. I’m sure it’ll be all right. I can move in over the weekend and start the job on Monday.”
“Splendid! However, let’s start you on Tuesday. That way you can have your regular days off from the start, since that’s my day to play cards with friends. I’ll have Joann set the bedroom up for you. It’ll be nice and fresh, and she’ll stock the linen closet. Of course, you may have your own phone line installed, if you wish, but you’re free to use our phone.”
“I have my own line. I’ll arrange for it to be moved here.”
“Very well. That may take a few days, maybe even a week, so please feel free to use our phone until then.”
Still thinking of the nephew, Leslie asked before she could stop herself, “What’s your nephew like?”
“Oh, he’s marvelous! A very sweet man. You’ll like him immensely!”
Being the aunt, of course she’d have given him rave reviews. As sweet as Emma seemed, perhaps he couldn’t be as bad as she thought. If he turned out to be anything like the froggy man at the bar, she could always move right back out. She’d ask Isabelle to reserve her room, just in case.