Against the Night. Kat Martin
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she figured. At least he was out there somewhere.
“I’m walking toward the front steps,” she said into the mic hidden inside the locket, figuring she was still far enough from the windows no one would see her talking to herself. She steadied her nerves as she pushed the doorbell and heard it chime somewhere inside.
It didn’t take long for the door to swing open. A smiling Kyle Bennett stood in the doorway.
“Come on in.” He was dressed in designer jeans, loafers and a yellow Izod knit shirt, his sandy hair neatly combed. He was casually GQ, exactly what she had expected.
Amy walked into the Spanish tiled entry noticing a heavy wooden chandelier overhead, and Kyle closed the arched front door.
He surveyed her head to foot. “You look just as good in clothes as you do out of them. That’s definitely a plus.”
She swallowed, not happy with the reminder he had seen her all but naked. “Is…is everything ready for the screen test?”
“My camera guy is running a little late, but he’ll be here soon. Why don’t we go into the studio and I’ll fix us something to drink?”
She let him guide her through the house into what looked like his study, done in dark wood paneling with a wide, ornately carved oak desk, and a dark brown leather sofa and chair. A camera on a tripod pointed toward the sofa, apparently where Bennett planned to film the audition.
“Have a seat,” he said.
She sat down on the couch, nervously smoothed her palms over her white jeans.
“What would you like to drink? Glass of white wine, maybe, or something stronger? How ’bout I make you a cosmo?”
Amy shook her head. “A Diet Coke would be good…if it isn’t too much trouble.”
“No trouble. I just figured you might want something to help you relax in front of the camera.”
“I think…think I’d do better if I wasn’t drinking anything alcoholic.”
His smile looked more feral than friendly. “How about some orange juice? It’s pretty much all I’ve got.”
“That would be great.”
He walked over to the bar in the corner and began fixing their drinks. A blender sat on the back bar next to a row of mixes, and a pink silk geranium in a small woven basket. A couple of padded leather stools sat in front of the bar.
Kyle returned with their drinks, handed her the orange juice and sat down on the sofa beside her. He lifted his glass. “Here’s to a great test today.”
Amy lifted her glass and he clinked his against hers. She took a swallow and then another, hoping it would help calm her nerves. “You know, a friend of mine came here for a screen test,” she said, easing into the subject of her sister.
One of his sandy eyebrows went up. “That right?”
“Silky Summers. She worked at the club before I started.”
“Oh, sure, I knew Silk. I tried to help her.” He shook his head. “It was sad, really. Silk had big dreams, but I’m afraid she didn’t have much talent.”
“Is that right?” Amy thought that was probably a lie. Rachael was good at most everything. “She always wanted to be an actress.”
“They all do, sweetheart. But most of them just can’t cut it.” He smiled. “Not like you. I’ve got a good feeling about you, Angel. I’ve got a hunch you’re going to show real promise.”
She took another sip of juice, buying herself some time. “I wonder what happened to her? Silky, I mean. You haven’t heard from her, have you?” She yawned behind her hand, feeling a little tired, and wished she had slept better. “I mean, she thought you could get her into show business. I figured she would try to stay in touch with you.”
He shrugged his shoulders, which were slim and made her think of Johnnie’s thick shouldered, muscular build.
“Haven’t heard a word,” he said. “The police asked me about her, you know. I told them I hadn’t seen her for a couple of weeks before she disappeared.”
“She didn’t say anything, then…? About where she was going?” She felt like yawning again, but managed to resist.
Kyle leaned in closely. “What’s your interest in Silk?”
Amy tried to shrug, but her shoulders barely moved. “She owed me some money. I’d like to…get it back.”
He relaxed at that. “Stick with me, kiddo, you’ll make plenty of money.”
She looked up at him and tried to smile, but her eyelids felt heavy.
“Now that I think of it,” Kyle said, “she did go out with a guy I knew. Kenny Reason. He’s a DJ down at The Rembrandt Club. I introduced them. Maybe Kenny’ll know where you can find her.”
Amy blinked up at him owlishly. “Thanks.” The more she stared, the fuzzier his features became. She started frowning. “I don’t know what’s…what’s the matter with me but…I’m starting…starting to feel really funny.”
Kyle smiled kindly. “You’re probably just nervous. Why don’t you lie down for a few minutes? I’ll wake you up when my camera guy gets here.”
She didn’t want to lie down, but her mouth wouldn’t move to form a protest. Instead, she let him help her to her feet and the next thing she knew, she was leaning against him, letting him guide her down the hall. She caught a glimpse of a big king-size bed, realized in her foggy brain that something was terribly wrong.
“Johnnie…” she whispered, and prayed he could hear her as the world went suddenly black.
“Son of a bitch!” Johnnie was out of the car and charging down the sidewalk. He raced across Bennett’s front yard, darted around the corner into the side yard, ran toward the rear of the house and up the back porch steps where he could break in without being seen.
The door was an older style with a curtained window. He pulled his Beretta from where he’d stuffed it into the back of his jeans, used the barrel to break the glass pane and reached inside to turn the lock. No alarm went off as he opened the door. He kicked his way through the shattered glass on the Spanish tile floor and rushed toward the bedroom, figuring that was the mostly likely place Bennett would have taken her.
The minute Amy had begun to slur her words, he knew what was happening, knew the weasely little bastard had loaded her drink.
The door at the end of the hall was closed. He paused when he reached it. Hearing Bennett’s voice in a one-sided conversation, he clamped down on the rage swelling inside him, turned the knob but found it locked. He raised his heavy boot and kicked the door open.
He aimed the pistol at Bennett. “Move, you little prick, and I swear I’ll blow your head off.”
Leaning over the bed, Kyle froze. Johnnie’s gaze shifted to Amy, who lay on her back on top of the mattress, completely unconscious. Bennett had unbuttoned her pink blouse, giving him a view of the plump cleavage above her push-up bra. He’d unzipped her white jeans, but that was as far as he’d gotten.
“Move away from her. Now.”
Bennett held up his hands as if they could stop a bullet and backed away from the bed. Just beyond it, the closet doors were folded open, revealing a wall filled with kinky sex toys: padded handcuffs, a leather headdress, a roll of duct tape, and every shape and size of dildo imaginable.
The rage returned, so thick and hot he could barely see. His finger itched where it curled against the trigger.
“Who are you?” Bennett demanded, but his voice shook. “What are you doing in my house?”
Johnnie lowered the pistol, shoved it into his pants behind