Page 132 of Locked in Wonderland

“Keep it.” He smiled faintly. “I smashed your last one. If you ever need money, sell it. It’s worth a bit.”

Then he turned away again.

And all I could do was stand there and watch the man who’d saved my life walk out of it.

The hotel had a vacancy. Either they didn’t remember me from my previous stay, or they did an excellent job of pretending they didn’t. They also didn’t bat an eyelid at me arriving with a black eye, no luggage, and paying in cash.

The pretty receptionist apologized for the view from the room, explaining that the only two vacancies overlooked the car park. I told her that as long as there was a bed in it, I didn’t care if all I could see were bins.

I went straight to the window once I was in the room. A rusted fire escape snaked down the rear of the building, overlooking a half-full car park that shimmered beneath the yellow glow of security lights.

It wasn’t pretty, but the anonymous concrete and parked cars were a relief—far preferable to a room overlooking the sea. I didn’t want Wonderland in sight. It would be too soon if I ever saw it again.

I showered first, lingering beneath the hot spray long past the point I would normally have gotten out. I might have stayed there even longer had my stomach not begun loudly protesting. Not surprising, considering the only thing I’d eaten all day was a single piece of toast. My abduction, the court case, and then my time in Kellan’s ‘custody’ had ruled out anything else.

During my last stay at the hotel, the room service menu hadn’t warranted so much as a glance. This time, with the alternative being to venture out into the world, I counted the cash Nico had given me, decided I could afford it, and ordered far more than any one person needed.

Chips. Sandwiches. Cake. Not exactly a balanced meal, but I wasn’t in the mood to be sensible.

The food arrived suspiciously quickly. Sure enough, the chips had clearly been reheated, their limpness and the oil clinging to them a dead giveaway. The sandwiches weren’t much better, the fillings having long since merged into a single indistinct flavor, every bite carrying that unmistakable refrigerator dampness. The cake was better, largely because of its incarceration in plastic.

I recognized the irony that, under normal circumstances, my role as an environmental health inspector would have compelled me to reject them without hesitation. But that was also pre-rat-soup days, so I ate every mouthful instead.

Afterward, I stripped for bed and slid beneath the cool sheets, my thoughts inevitably drifting back to Nico.

What was he doing now? Where was he staying?

Somehow I doubted he was making do with stale sandwiches and reheated chips.

Was he thinking about me?

Or had he already put Wonderland—and me—behind him?

The questions followed me into the darkness.

Was it Stockholm syndrome?

For my sake, I hoped it was. Tomorrow I’d go home. Things would get easier once I put some distance between myself and this place.

At least...

I hoped they would.

Chapter Forty-one

Two weeks after Wonderland

The lies were difficult at first. They became easier each time I repeated them. I met a man. Yes, I should know better at my age than to get so wrapped up in someone. Anyone would think I was a teenager, right? I know it’s quite the coincidence that I lost my phone at the same time.

I’d even bought a new phone to make that part convincing, an expense I could have done without, given Nico had been right about them cleaning out my bank accounts. Thankfully, I had one account with a different bank that they hadn’t been able to touch.

Yes, it was irresponsible not to let work know where I was. But I think that’s really a symptom of me having been unhappy there for quite some time. Who wants to spend their life being the least welcome person in every restaurant they walk into?

That I’d made no real effort to get my job back gave the lie just enough truth to be convincing.

What was he like?

The first time someone had asked, I’d pictured Warren. Then I’d promptly described Nico.