I Just Need You - J. Nathan Page 0,76
taking the two flights down to the basement.
Dim lights filled the hallway. The whirring of washing machines and dryers in the laundry room echoed in the distance. There were no rooms down there, just storage closets, the maintenance room, and the kitchen where the girls had baked me cookies.
I tiptoed down the hallway, staying close to the wall. I poked my head into the maintenance room. It was jammed with broken chairs and desks, but there was nowhere for two people to hide, especially if the Frenchman wanted me to find him.
I moved to the laundry room, stepping slowly inside. Some of the dryers ran, the clothes inside spinning around behind the glass doors. The washers on the opposite side shook through the spin cycle, and I twisted around, but no one was in there either. I released a shaky breath.
I moved back to the door, peeking out into the hallway. It was empty. I released a breath before stepping into it and creeping slowly to the next room. The small kitchen.
I stepped inside and my eyes took in the old appliances against the wall and the wooden table in the center of the room.
The door I’d walked through slammed shut, and I jumped.
“Le fou de fortune.”
A chill rushed through me as I turned. There he was. The Frenchman, taller than I remembered, wearing all black with a patch over his left eye. There was a gun in his hand, dangling at his side.
I steeled my features, though my heart walloped in my chest. “Where’s Elodie?”
“Have pleasantries gone out the window?” he asked. “You Americans need to learn a thing or two about geniality.”
“Where’s Elodie?” I repeated.
“I gave you my word,” he said. “You came, and she’s free to go.”
I looked around, but Elodie wasn’t there. “Then let her go,” I said, trying so damn hard to sound confident, though all I wanted was to be as far away from him as possible.
He stepped away from the door and slowly circled me as if I were his prey. “Oh, she’s free to go…just as soon as we leave. I’ve secured a private jet since I know it’s what you’re used to.”
Bile crept up the back of my throat as I turned slowly, not letting him get behind me. I knew what he was capable of. “I can call my parents right now. How much do you want and where do you want it sent?” I reached around for my phone in my back pocket.
“Keep your hands where I can see them,” he ordered, lifting his gun and pointing it at me. “I may be partially blind but I’m not stupid.”
I held up my hands to show him they were empty.
“We’ll call them once we’re far away from here.” He stopped by the counter and snatched a knife out of the cutlery block. The ping of the metal pierced the silence in the kitchen.
Why did he need a knife? He had a gun.
He walked to a door at the side of the room and yanked it open. Elodie and Alice were on their knees in the closet. Their ankles, wrists, and mouths were taped with thick electrical tape, their eyes wide with fear.
I gasped. He’d taken both of them. I stared at them trying to communicate my regret. This all happened because they were kind enough to befriend me. Some friend I turned out to be. “I’m so sorry,” I said to them.
“As a show of good faith, I’ll leave this knife for them to get free.” The Frenchman placed the knife on the table. “Just not too soon. We obviously need to leave first.”
“How do you plan to get me out? I have bodyguards who’ll be looking for me.”
“Oh, le fou de fortune,” he chuckled. “You really think I’m alone?”
My stomach clenched. Had his men hurt Tristan and Briggs? Is that why they hadn’t found me yet? I needed to do something. And I needed to do it quickly. “I want to say goodbye to my friends.”
He rolled his single eye.
“I’ve done everything you asked,” I reminded him.
He waved the gun in their direction. “Do not touch them.”
I hurried over to them, moving the gun to the front of my jeans as I did so he couldn’t see me. I kneeled in front of them. “Are you okay?”
They bobbed their heads but the fear in their eyes remained.
“I’m so sorry this happened. You two have been the best friends a girl could ever ask for.” I tried not to cry