A Debt Repaid Read online

  I’ve never begged or groveled in my life, but today I will. Though it’s embarrassing, and I can feel the eyeballs of other guests on my back, I will not give in to shame.

  “Ma’am, we can’t.” He slides his hand back as if he’s afraid I’ll touch him. “If you cannot pay for your stay, please find a different accommodation.”

  “Please …” I beg, tears welling up in my eyes. “I don’t know this city or any of the people. I can’t go home either.”

  Someone else behind me clears her throat, and the man in front of the desk suddenly seems in a hurry. “I’m sorry, ma’am. I can’t help you.” He waves at the other customer and turns his head away from me. “Hello, may I help you?”

  “Please …” I mutter, but he completely ignores me.

  I close my eyes and take a short breath before turning around and walking out of the building, forcing the tears to stay at bay. I will find a hotel. There must be someone who’ll take me in for the night.

  Continuing my search, I try one hotel after the next. Even the bed and breakfasts all show me the door. Not even offering some work like washing the dishes or cleaning the rooms convinces them to offer me a place to stay. And after walking all over the city to about sixty plus different establishments with blistering feet stuck in sky-high heels, I’m about to break.

  By the time I’ve given up, it’s already past nighttime. Barely anyone is left on the street, and half of those are probably dangerous. I’m too afraid to talk to anyone and ask for help. Everyone seems suspicious even though that might only be my terrified brain talking. Someone who grew up distrusting the world doesn’t easily shake that feeling.

  I resent the person I’ve become thanks to my family, but I can’t easily overcome my fears either, so there’s nothing left to do but move on.

  But I have no energy left to fight with, no more strength in my legs to walk another step. I succumb to the very first empty-looking shack I can find; a long-abandoned basement dwelling beneath one of the city’s many bridges.

  I open the busted, creaky door and make my way into a small room to find an old, metallic bed with a stained mattress on top. It looks like a crack house, a place where fellow drug addicts gather to shoot up, but it’s the only place I can go when no one else will take me in. The only place no one will ask questions about who I am and where I came from or judge me for who I am.

  But I’m the only one here for now, so I lie there on that filthy mattress and stare at the graffiti-covered walls until the tears begin to roll. And they don’t stop … not for several hours.

  * * *

  A sudden cough wakes me up from a nightmare-fueled sleep. My eyes pop open from the sound, and I immediately sit up in bed the moment a face appears in front of me.

  “Hey, man,” he says in a weird, nasally way. “Gaat het?”

  My head is woozy, and everything’s so blurry. What’s going on?

  “Zal ik een ambulance bellen, of zo?” the guy says.

  “Wha-what?” I mumble. Shit, I realize he’s trying to speak Dutch to me. “Ah, sorry, I don’t speak—”

  “Oh, an American … Nice,” he says, with an exaggerated voice. He sits down on the bed, so I pull up my legs and wrap my arms around them. “Are you okay? Should I call an ambulance?”

  I look around for a second, trying to get my bearings in the middle of the night. “No, no, I’m fine,” I mumble.

  There’s a ton of smoke in the room, and I almost jump up and sprint out of the room. But then my eyes catch sight of the cause … a pipe filled with marijuana.

  No wonder I’m so dizzy. He’s been smoking in here … and for how long?

  “Want some?” He picks up the bong and holds it out to me.

  I make a face and hold my breath to keep from smelling the stench. “No, thanks,” I say. I hate drugs. Always have.

  “Don’t say I didn’t offer,” he says with a laugh, and then he takes a whiff.

  I get off the bed and pat myself down. I must’ve been beyond exhausted for me to be able to crash in a place like this. Geez.

  “Whoa … nice dress. Where’d you get it?” he asks, eyeing me up.

  “Um, none of your business,” I reply.

  “Sorry, didn’t mean to be rude,” he says. “You sure you don’t want some?” He holds it up again. “Might relax you a little.”

  “No, thanks. I have to go,” I say, and I hurry out the door.

  Coming here was a mistake. It’s dangerous, not to mention unhealthy. I’m covered in germs and dirt and God knows what else, considering what usually goes on in a place like that. I should be happy there was only one druggie in there, and that he wasn’t doing any of the hard stuff. There was a tiny plastic bag filled with white powder sitting on the table, though, and I don’t even wanna know what was inside that. Shit … I should be more careful.

  I tiptoe up the stairs, still wearing my high heels. I could try to take them off, but I’m not sure walking barefoot would be any better than this. However, my feet are killing me, and I barely had a few hours of rest. But I have no place to go … except maybe the park.

  Would that be safe at this hour of the night?

  The wind brushes past my arms, making me shiver. It’s far colder outside than it was in that house. Even though it had no electricity, at least you could shut the doors and block out the wind. Now I’m outside in a cold country where the days consist of more rain than sun.

  Right then, raindrops fall onto my naked shoulders, and I stop and hold up my hands. More drops follow, and the streets soon fill with rain. Again.

  I sigh out loud, and my shoulders slump at the thought of spending the night outside in the cold. This is far from what I expected freedom to be like once I got out. Far from what I was used to when I still had it.

  But going back to those days is impossible. They’re long gone, along with the rest of my faith in humanity.

  Through the rain, I walk for miles and miles until nothing remains but city streetlights and the occasional passerby on his way home. I pass a few shops along the way, and one of the windowsills filled with beautifully decorated cakes and appetizing pastries in a bakery makes my mouth water. I contemplate breaking and entering, but that would be wrong. I have no right to steal from people, not even for my growling stomach.

  I avert my eyes and focus on what I can do to make things better as my growling stomach demands every iota of my attention. I haven’t eaten anything since breakfast, but I can last a little longer. The question is, how long?

  It’s the middle of the night. Everyone’s busy with their own things or sleeping, so there’s no use even thinking about it. I’d better continue walking. The only place I have left to go to is the park. Maybe I’ll be able to find a bench there where I can rest. Anything would be good right now as long as I can get off my feet.

  After checking a local sign with a map on it, I make my way to the nearest park and clutch the gates while I find my way inside. Thick trees and bushes are everywhere with a few patches of grass scattered around a pond. Along the gravel path, I see several benches a few steps apart, and I collapse on the first empty one in sight.

  No one else is here except a few doves and the occasional druggie. But none of that fazes me anymore. I’m far too tired to move on to someplace else … too tired to care.

  Chapter 3

  Easton

  My employees turned over everything at that goddamn store, but they couldn’t find any clues as to her whereabouts. There was nothing left of her. One of their cashiers was responsible for her escape. Gave her a key and everything, tsk. High-end, my ass. If I don’t fucking find my girl, I’m going to tear that Luuks boutique apart. Their entire brand will sink and fade into nothingness, I’ll make sure of it.

  She’s gone because of them, fled the scene to God knows where. She’s probably frightened, hungry, and alone. She could be in danger, for all I know. And I’m sitting here in my mansion organizing a search while others do the running for me. I’m not doing anythi
ng when I should be out there, searching for her day and night, turning over every rock until I find her and leaving nothing left unscathed.

  Fuck. I should’ve never let her out of the house. Never.

  I fish my phone out of my pocket and dial the number I never wanted to call.

  He picks up. “Davis.”

  I almost wish he didn’t. “Your daughter escaped.”

  It’s silent for a few seconds. “Well, that was quick.” He laughs out loud, and my jaw fucking drops. “I thought you’d manage to hold onto her for some time at least, but that’s faster than even I could imagine.”

  “This isn’t a joke,” I growl.

  “So why are you calling me?”

  “Is she at your restaurant here?”

  “No, not that I know of.”

  “If she is, you’d better fucking tell me right now, or else …” I growl.

  “My staff would’ve told me if she was, and she wouldn’t go there, trust me on that,” he replies. “Why is this my problem?”

  “Of course, she would. You’re her fucking father, so any business you own is a haven to her.” I’m so pissed I clench the desk with my nails.

  “She won’t because she hates me and everything that has to do with me,” he replies.

  “You’re her only safety net,” I say. “I’m sure the restaurant would take her in if she begged.”

  “Well, then maybe you should’ve held onto her better.”

  “Don’t fucking tell me what I should and shouldn’t have done,” I yell. “This is your problem because she’s your daughter who you exchanged for a loan. A loan I can withdraw at any time.”

  He snorts. “The money’s already spent, Easton. There’s no way to get it back.”

  I lean over and swear into the phone as it’s jammed between the desk and my mouth. “My money is inside your business, inside you, and I will fucking rip it out if I have to. Do you hear me? I will tear down your business and your fucking ass along with it.”

  I can hear him swallow on the other end of the line.

  “Now you listen … If she calls you, comes to one of your restaurants, anything, you let me know. Do you understand me?”

  A few seconds pass. “Yes. Of course.”

  “Good,” I hiss. “And I want you to go fucking look for her.”

  “What? Me? Why?”

  “Because she’ll listen to you.”

  “She never has,” he exclaims.

  “I don’t fucking care how you get it done. You’re going to help find her. She’s my fucking wife, and I want her back.”

  “How am I going to find her if you can’t?” he asks. “She doesn’t have a phone anymore because you took it from her. I have no way of contacting her.”

  “Are you deaf? I said get it done. Do whatever you have to. If I don’t get her back, I’m going to turn your world into a living hell …” I growl into the phone. “I have cameras in my home. Hundreds of them. Did you know?”

  “What does that have to do—”

  “I taped her,” I interject. “Every single second of her breathing in my home … in every single possible position you could imagine.”

  He gulps.

  “You wouldn’t want it to suddenly end up in the hands of journalists, would you?”

  “No,” he says, clearing his throat. “I’ll find her. I’ll make sure of it.”

  “I’m glad we finally understand each other,” I reply. “Call me when you have more information.”

  I end the phone call before he can reply. I don’t want to hear his voice any longer than necessary. I just want him to find her before it’s too late. Before she’s out of my grasp forever or, worse, in someone else’s.

  I punch my desk and blow out a breath to try to contain my fury. I would blow up this entire city if it meant I’d find her again … but if there’s a chance she could die, I wouldn’t dare risk it.

  I don’t want her dead. I want her alive and in my arms where she belongs.

  “Sir …” Jill places a hand on my shoulder.

  I shrug it off. “Don’t.”

  “Punching a desk isn’t going to help,” she says.

  “What will?” I say, turning around to face her. “Exactly. Nothing.”

  She cocks her head and smiles. “Your employees are doing their best to find her.”

  “Then they’re not working hard enough,” I reply.

  “It takes time to find her in a city this big, and a lot of time has passed. She could be anywhere,” she says.

  “Exactly my point,” I retort. “The longer it takes, the more time she has to get even farther away from me.”

  “Sir …” She pauses for a moment. “Have you thought about letting it go?”

  My eyes widen. “Letting it go? Have you lost your fucking mind, Jill?”

  “No, it’s just that …” She swallows. “I know she is your wife, but you two haven’t exactly gotten along very well, and—”

  “We were getting along fine,” I interject. “She was just getting used to me.”

  “She was constantly looking for a way out,” she adds.

  “Because she’s a spoiled little princess who wants more, more, more,” I hiss.

  “Because you took the thing she wants the most …”

  “What?” I’m right up in her face now.

  “Her freedom,” she says, adding another gentle smile. “A woman will always fight to get what she wants. Always.”

  “I couldn’t give her that, Jill, and you know damn well why.”

  “I know. I’m just saying …” Her shoulders rise with her deep breath. “If you would’ve given her a little more a little sooner, maybe she wouldn’t have had the urge to escape.”

  “She wouldn’t have slipped away if you wouldn’t have let her out of your sight!” I growl.

  Her lips part, but she sucks in her words and lowers her eyes. The hurt spelled out on her face is so clear not even a blind man would miss that. Guilt immediately fills my veins.

  “I know …” she mutters. “But Charlotte isn’t the easiest to work with.”

  I can’t lie and say that she is, so I have to give her that. “It’s why I tasked you with taking care of her.” I place a hand on her shoulder. “Because I trust you the most.”

  She beams once again and snorts a little. “But couldn’t you have picked an easier girl? Like, I don’t know, one of the many girls who’d wait in line to get some time alone with you?”

  “Nonsense,” I say, shaking my head.

  “I’ve seen them. At your clubs,” she adds, her cheeks turning rosy. “You could pick one to your liking. There are so many who … who just wanna be near you.”

  I lick my lips. “I only want Charlotte.”

  “Why?” she asks. “What’s so special about her?”

  I frown at her question. She’s never asked me that, and it’s telling that she’d need to.

  “Everything.” I dig in my mind, seeing images of her right in front of me. “She’s beautiful … smart … sassy.”

  “Many girls have those qualities,” Jill says.

  “Not like this one,” I reply. “Not with her family reputation.”

  “This is just to get back at her father, isn’t it?” she asks.

  “It’s so much more than that,” I say, and I tilt my head lower. “But you wouldn’t understand. You weren’t there when my infatuation with her started, and that’s okay. But don’t question me on my choices, Jill.”

  She nods a couple of times and looks away. “Yes, sir. I understand.” Turning around, she walks off, but before she exits, she grabs the doorframe, and says, “Is there something you need, sir? Anything?”

  “No, I’m fine, Jill. Go help the others find Charlotte.” I pick up a cigar and light it, taking a drag before I add, “Do whatever’s necessary to find her.”

  I keep taking drags, but not even a good cigar can take the edge off. I’m antsy; my body is riddled with energy it can’t release, and it makes me want to
lash out. But there’s no point. There must be some other way I can rid myself of this fiery blaze roaring through my heart.

  I open my laptop and enter the password, then immediately open the folder with all the videos of her. I can’t stop myself. I have to see her. Any way I can is good enough as long as I can get my Charlotte fix.

  I know I’m greedy, selfish, and fucking disturbed, but I don’t care. I need her, and now that she’s gone, I only want her more.

  But when I look through my files, the one from the night at the restaurant is missing. The one where she acted like a complete vixen, seducing me until I succumbed and played with her mind and body.

  My eyes widen.

  It’s gone. Vanished like it never even existed. It’s not even in the bin.

  How? No one has access to this laptop … unless …

  Charlotte stole the key.

  My fist balls, and I toss my cigar into the ashtray and growl out loud. She did this.

  Chapter 4

  Charlotte

  A sharp gust of wind startles me awake. The moment my eyes open, the memories of yesterday flood back in … and the fact that I’m homeless.

  My body trembles. My dress is still wet and clinging to my skin. I probably fell asleep due to sheer exhaustion. However, for some reason, a knitted blanket covers me. It smells weird, but it’s cozy and soft … and all the things I don’t deserve.

  Someone must’ve found me here last night and placed this over me after seeing my clothes. There’s even a note tucked between me and the blanket.

  Thought you could use this more than me. – Jordy (the druggie from that house)

  I grin. That’s sweet. He’s not as bad as I thought he was. Then again, I always judge people too soon. I should learn to be less apprehensive about people who live a different life. After all, you don’t know how a person is or what they’ve been through just by looking at them.

  I gather the blanket around me and lie back down on the bench to close my eyes for a second and soak in the tiny bit of sunshine breaking through the clouds. I should prepare for the day so I can survive.