Concealed Force

Chapter 9

Laura sat on the edge of the bath and finished shaving her legs. She had the bathroom door propped open so she could see the TV where an old episode of Friends was playing. It was comforting to watch shows she'd seen at home, in her mother's pink living room, and sometimes she could forget for a few seconds where she really was.

She'd been in the compound a week, and the last four days had blurred. Laura spent most of her time in the room, with just one brief trip to the bar, which had been cut short by some problem that Reid had had to take care of. There were lots of things that only he could take care of, and he was out nearly all day, and once all night too, when he was on guard duty.

Some days there were a lot of unfamiliar bikers, many in the Copperhead Killers-branded jackets, coming and going through the gate, and she was sure they were picking up drugs or something, because brown bags of money were exchanged for plastic-wrapped packets. When that happened Reid and another large guy loomed over the visitors, intimidating them, monitoring their actions and waiting for them to leave.

She'd begun to learn how the place worked, watching from the window, picking up odd bits of information. Alyssa had a room, on the floor below, that she shared with another woman called Tara. All the men had nicknames, but not everyone used them, which is why one guy might be called Hammer and another John.

There was a kind of doctor on site—not a respectable one—who could stitch you up and get you drugs of all kinds including contraception. And breakfast was served in the bar for all the members, but she'd never been; Reid went alone, bringing her back waffles or toast and bacon, cups of coffee, and sometimes a scowl.

Even when he was in the room he seemed tired and distant, and she wondered if he was regretting saving her, whether she was too much of a burden, or just an annoyance. She wracked her brain, trying to work out what she could do to convince him to carry on helping her, and decided to just keep quiet and out of his way as much as possible.

When anyone else had stopped by Reid had pushed Laura onto the bed, or the floor, messed up her hair, let himself be overheard issuing an order to get on her knees or open her mouth or be a good girl, to make it seem as though he was being interrupted. But it had started to feel awkward, like a bad play that they were bored with.

The audience was losing interest, and they'd forgotten their lines. It was dangerous. And frustrating. Worse, she was just waiting here and no progress was being made.

Reid had been out of the compound several more times, but hadn't been able to take her, it was all shady club business, that he was vague about and he was always surrounded by other members.

He had brought her things back, though: a pair of jeans and some moisturizing cream, a pack of razors and some nail scissors. Every new item made her feel a little more like herself, the jeans especially. It was nice being able to wear clothing that didn't expose her legs, even though they were pretty skin-tight.

Alyssa brought her food most days, collected and returned laundry, and called her princess, smirking at her and telling her she was spoilt because she got to lie around all day. The truth was, doing some chores sounded pretty exciting to Laura.

She was going stir crazy, stuck in the one room day after day, staring at the walls or the TV, waiting for Reid to get back, just so she could feel as though there was a way out of here. He'd told her she should leave the room as little as possible, but maybe she could at least do this.

"What do you think?" she asked, when he got back late that night, mud on the knees of his jeans. "Can I go and help her out?"

"You're safe in here." He was frowning, brushing at his jeans, and then stripping them off. "Safe as you can be on the compound anyway."