Swimsuit Read Free

blanket was thrown over hers, the cell phone ripped
     from her hands.
    Then—there was the prick of a needle in her thigh.
    Kim heard his voice as her head rolled back and the light faded.
    “Fighting me is pointless, Kim. This isn’t about you and me. It’s a whole lot bigger than that, trust me. But, then, why should
     you trust me?”

Chapter 5
    KIM CAME to consciousness.
    She was lying faceup on a bed inside a glowing, yellow-painted room. Her arms were tied and anchored behind her head. Her
     legs, a long way away, were roped to the metal frame of a bed. A white satin sheet was tucked under her chin, draped between
     her legs. She couldn’t be a hundred percent sure, but she thought she was naked under the sheet.
    She pulled at the rope holding her arms behind her, and she got terrifying glimmers of what might happen to her next, nothing
     that matched the man’s promise that “everything’s going to be fine.” Then she heard grunts and squeals coming from her throat,
     sounds she’d never made before.
    She got nowhere with the ropes, so she lifted her head and as best she could, looked around the room. It seemed unreal, like
     a stage set.
    To the right side of the bed were two closed windows, hung with gauzy curtains. There was a table beneath the windows loaded
     with lit candles of all heights and colors, and there were tropical flowers.
    Birds of paradise and ginger—very masculine to her eyes, sexual really—stood erect in a vase beside the bed.
    Another look around, and she took in cameras, two of them. Professional grade, mounted on tripods on either side of her.
    She saw lights on stands and a sound boom she hadn’t noticed at first, positioned above her head.
    She became aware of the roar of surf, loud, as if the waves were crashing against the walls. And there she was, pinned like
     a butterfly at the center of it all.
    Kim took in a deep breath, and screamed, “HELP MEEEEEE.”
    When her scream faded, a man’s voice came from behind her head. “Hey, hey. Kim. No one can
hear
you.”
    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