Captive by K. M. Fawcett Read Free Book Online

around the room. Behind them, three normal doors—two open and the center one closed—led into other small rooms. A knickknack-cluttered end table and a wingback chair were arranged along the wall to her right. An oak sideboard and hutch, and a knee-high cherrywood Japanese-style table with mismatched pillows stacked neatly beneath it were to her left. Daylight streamed into the ten-by-twenty-foot room through an entire wall made of glass. About fifty yards of mowed lawn lay between the wall and a wooded area. Was it a forest?
    “Where am I?” Addy tried getting the words out of her dry throat.
    “Ye best drink, lass. It will help ye get yer voice back.”
    Addy brought the cup to her nose and sniffed. “Orange juice?”
    “Aye.”
    She inhaled again noticing another aroma she couldn’t quite place. “What else is in this?”
    “Just a wee bit of the malt.”
    The girl turned to him. “You spiked our juice?”
    “Well, I had to make it palatable.”
    “Who are you two?” Were they with the cult or with the prisoners...or with the aliens?
    “The name’s Duncan. This lovely lass is my daughter, Tess.” He flashed Addy a cheerful smile that made his warm, brown eyes twinkle. The lines around them couldn’t hide the kindness radiating from him. He appeared to be in his late fifties and attractive for an older guy. Or maybe she was just a sucker for the accent.
    He was a big man, though whether he was stout or muscular she couldn’t tell. The eggplant color, Charles Dickens–like cloak he wore hid his body.
    Where Duncan had a big presence, Tess was quite the opposite. She had a frail look to her; small boned, thin, and so pale Addy could see the dark blue veins under the sheer skin of her neck. Her gray eyes were the color of silver moss and a beautiful contrast to her fiery red hair. Like her, Tess was dressed in jeans shorts and a T-shirt.
    “I guess ye can call us the welcoming committee,” Duncan said.
    Addy shifted on the couch. “Where am I? What were those creatures? What happened to Max?”
    “Max?” Tess glanced at her father.
    “Ye mean the gladiator, Max?”
    “I don’t know. He’s a big guy with big muscles, dark hair, and the greenest colored contacts I’ve ever seen.”
    “Aye. She’s met Max.”
    “Met him. I was assaulted by him.”
    “Oh, honey.” Tess moved to sit next to her on the couch. “I’m so sorry.”
    “I dinna understand. Ye’ve been to a breeding box without going to the Yard first? Hmm.”
    Addy took a small sip of her drink—.
    “Och, well, ye must be ovulating.”
    —and spewed the juice on Duncan. “Does anyone here, besides me, feel uncomfortable discussing my biological clock?”
    “Settle down, settle down.” He used his cloak to wipe the droplets from his face. “Usually they bring ye new ones to the Yard first so we can explain how things work here.”
    “Where is here? What happened to me?”
    “Perhaps first ye should tell me all that ye ken.” Duncan sat in the wingback chair while she explained everything: the forest fire, waking up in the room and not remembering how she got there, what Max said about the baby-making cult, his attack, his breakdown, the alien creatures, and getting drugged.
    When she finished her story, Duncan rubbed a bushy eyebrow, ambled to the sideboard and poured a shot of amber liquid. Scotch, probably. “Well, lassie. That’s quite an interesting tale.”
    She slumped. What had possessed her to spill her guts to strangers? She knew better than to trust anyone especially with the crazy story she just told. He must think her a lunatic talking about baby-selling cults and aliens. What if he called the insane asylum?
    Her eyes darted to the glass wall. A small black cylinder laying on its side was wedged within the glass a little higher than doorknob height. The base of the cylindar was about the size of a silver dollar. What were the chances it was a button for opening a door? She could make a run for it. Duncan would