Oh my God. Were they talking about Elise? No one to miss them? I missed her, and so did her parents.

“Doesn’t matter who misses her, they’re never gonna find her.”

I strained to listen over the buzzing in my ears. I prayed my legs wouldn’t give out and give away my presence. My hands were shaking so badly I feared the tumblers inside would start rattling and they’d find me.

“Do not touch her,” voice number two ordered. “She lives with her father. He’ll report her missing by morning. Lorenzo has someone set up.”

Sammy.

They’re talking about sweet Sammy.

Holy shit.

I had to find Asher—no, Mr. Newcomb. He was Adam Newcomb in the club. I couldn’t screw that up.

Adam Newcomb I repeated in my head as I stepped back, thankful for the carpet in the hallway. Another silent step back. And another. By the time I made it back into the dungeon I was out of breath, panting, and my entire body was trembling. Fear and adrenaline clashed and churned in my stomach, each emotion warring for the top spot, making me feel woozy.

I needed Asher, but first I needed to find a way out undetected. Or a distraction, something to alert the men I was in the room so they’d stop their conversation and move on.

Before I could decide on a plan of action the box slipped from my hands. In those seconds as I watched the box fall to the floor, I stood there like an idiot. I didn’t come up with a plan. I didn’t run. I didn’t find a place to hide. Nope, not me. I froze. I didn’t even startle when the glasses inside the box shattered.

I didn’t move when I heard footsteps coming down the hall, but I did lift my gaze when voice number two softly asked, “Are you okay?”

Will Evans.

My mind spun as I tried to recall everything I knew about the man. Longtime member, unattached, liked to join in when invited into a threesome, spent time in the viewing rooms but I’d never seen him pleasured.

God, how was this my life—self-pleasure, walls of pain, threesomes. Then there was overhearing nefarious plots to kidnap my coworker.

I totally should’ve listened to Asher—that was strike one. I should’ve called him when I had a bad feeling about Lorenzo calling me in early for no reason—that was strike two.

“Miss Ellis?”

Hurry, idiot, think up a lie.

“Yes, I’m sorry. I forgot to eat today, and I started to feel lightheaded. I guess I dropped the box.”

Mr. Evans looked around the room before his concerned eyes came back to mine.

“Are you sure that’s it?”

Think, lie again. More lies, think.

“Please don’t tell Mr. Kelly.”

Mr. Evans kept his eyes locked with mine and took a step closer, making my heart rate speed up.

“What would I tell Mr. Kelly?”

“That I interrupted your night. Again, I’m so sorry to have bothered you. I don’t know exactly what happened. One second, I was going over my mental to-do list making sure I hadn’t forgotten anything important. Everything has to be perfect. Then the next thing I knew I was swaying on my feet and dropped the box.” I stopped to let out an overexaggerated sigh in hopes of making my story more believable. “Now I need to get the cleaner down here to make sure no glass escaped from the box. Someone could get injured. Someone could—”