Master of Lust

Chapter - 279

The apartment building where Annie lived was a far cry from the lavish atmosphere of La Fleur Étoilée. It was an affordable complex, with chipped paint on the walls and narrow hallways that felt more cramped than cosy.

The elevator was out of service, a faded "Out of Order" sign taped haphazardly to the door, so Rick and Sharon took the stairs. As they climbed, they passed a few residents loitering in the stairwell and hallway, giving them glances but ultimately paying little attention.

Arriving at Annie's door, they rang the bell, and it was answered by a young woman in a loose, worn-out hoodie. Sharon stepped forward, her expression sharp as she asked, "Are you Annie?"

The girl shook her head, confused, "No, who is asking?"

Without wasting a second, Sharon revealed her badge. The girl's eyes widened, and she swallowed nervously, muttering a quick, "This way," as she led them further into the apartment.

The cramped space reflected a modest lifestyle, with worn furniture, cheap decor, and clutter strewn about. It was clear that comfort took priority over style here, as the furniture was mismatched and there were remnants of fast-food containers on the table.

As they reached the living room, Rick and Sharon found Annie sprawled on the worn couch, a lazy grin on her face as she shared a joint with two other girls. The air was thick with smoke, a stale, pungent smell filling the space.

The scene was hazy, and the dim light filtering through the window only added to the murkiness of the room, casting everything in a dreary hue.

The girl who'd led them to the room gave Annie a quick tap on the shoulder, "They are here for you," she muttered, nervously shooting glances at Rick and Sharon while subtly motioning to the other girls to hide the joint.

Annie's bloodshot eyes lifted lazily toward Rick, her grin widening in an almost smug, careless way, "Rick? Why are you here?" she asked with a slurred voice, her gaze shifting to Sharon.

Her eyes narrowed in mock curiosity, lips twitching into a sloppy smirk, "Wait... who is this?" she continued, her words slow and her head swaying slightly, as though the room was moving along with her.

"Oh! Don't tell me—you finally took my advice, huh? Realized how much of a whore Nadia was, and decided to dump her for this nice girl?" She giggled, her chuckle laced with a mix of smoke and delirium.

Sharon's patience wore thin quickly, and with an irritated sigh, she flashed her police badge, holding it up in plain view. For a moment, Annie squinted at it, her dazed mind slowly trying to understand.

Then, her face lit up in an amused chuckle, "Oh, wait... are you serious?" Her gaze dropped back to Rick.

"So, you called the cops on me just because I had a few words with that whore Nadia?"

The other girls looked far more alert than Annie and jumped to hide the joint, nervously darting their hands around for any traces of incriminating evidence. One girl rushed over to the window, hurriedly shoving it open, letting the smoky air flow out into the morning light as if it could instantly erase the lingering scent.

Annie leaned back, her bleary eyes glued to Sharon's badge, a lopsided smirk still on her lips.

Sharon's patience had run out. She leaned in, her voice low but laced with an unmistakable edge of irritation.

"Listen, Annie, we can talk here in the comfort of your dingy little setup, or I can escort you down to the station, where I'm sure the cold, metal chairs and bright lights will feel much less cozy. So, what's it going to be?"

The hint of a smirk faded from Annie's face as Sharon's words sank in, a flicker of fear cutting through the fog in her eyes. Her mouth parted, and she stammered, "I swear... I didn't... I mean, I didn't do anything! I didn't kidnap Nadia... You've got this all wrong."

Sharon dismissed her excuses with a wave of her hand, her eyes narrowing in disbelief, "Look, girl. Nadia—Jemimah, whatever name you want to give her—has amnesia. She didn't know a soul here, and not a single person knew her. She was safe, hidden. But the moment she crossed paths with you? Within twelve hours, she's been kidnapped."

Sharon leaned in closer, her expression unforgiving, "Now, you tell me, Annie. How are you not involved in this?"

Annie's face went pale, and she glanced nervously between Sharon and Rick, crumbling under the weight of the accusation.

Seeing Annie's resistance falter, Sharon pressed harder, her voice steady and unyielding, "Come on, Annie. Enough dodging. Just tell me—what did you do? Who's in on this with you? Who's your partner in the kidnapping?"

Under the weight of Sharon's accusations, Annie's composure shattered. Tears welled up in her red-rimmed eyes, and she started to break down, her voice choked with sobs.

"I swear, I didn't do anything!" She sniffed, her hands shaking as she wiped her face, "When I saw her at the restaurant, I… I couldn't control myself. I was so angry; I couldn't think clearly. But all I did—" She paused, her voice hitching.

"All I did was post her picture on social media. That's it. That's all I did…" She dissolved into tears, her voice trembling as she tried to continue.

Rick look like he figured something out after hearing Annie's confession, then he leaned in, "What if someone saw your post? Someone who's been actively searching for Nadia, someone desperate to find her... and that led straight to her kidnapping?"

Annie's eyes widened, the weight of the situation finally settling in. She looked at Sharon, who was already nodding, "It's possible," Sharon said, cutting through Annie's sobs with her calm authority, "Show me the post."

Annie fumbled for her phone, bringing up her social media account. Sharon took it, scanning the screen— and there it was.

Annie's social media post featured a photo of Nadia, seated across from Rick at the luxurious La Fleur Étoilée. The caption beneath it read:

"Look where I found the whore of Portstown, enjoying an expensive dinner worth more than her with her new boy toy after killing two men."

Sharon sighed deeply, her face clouded with frustration and disbelief as she checked the post. Sharon's jaw tightened as she read the number under the post: 8,657 views.

Sharon stared down at the post, frustration clouding her face, "How are we going to trace who saw this? And who's behind all this?" She shook her head, letting out a sigh of disbelief, before fixing Annie with an intense, anger-fuelled gaze.

"I swear," Annie stammered, her voice quivering as she tried to defend herself, "I didn't know it would lead to this, and I didn't do anything else. It was just an impulsive post—I swear."

Sharon straightened, "Well, that's all for now," she replied, "But don't think this is over, Annie. You're still one of our prime suspects, and we can call you into the station if further questioning is needed. Don't go out of the town."

Annie's face drained of colour as she nodded, realizing the gravity of her situation.

The roar of Sharon's Harley tore through the busy streets, blending with the hum of morning traffic, car engines revving, and the occasional blare of horns.

The deep, throaty rumble of the Harley's engine was loud and raw, vibrating under Rick as he clung to the seat behind Sharon. He barely registered the insistent vibration from his phone at first, only now noticing its persistent buzzing.

"Sharon, pull over for a sec," he said, raising his voice to be heard over the engine. Sharon slowed, veering onto the side of the road, and with a quick glance at him, parked the bike.

Rick checked his phone: an unknown number. He hesitated for just a beat before answering.

A low, menacing voice crackled on the line, "Rick Smith," it began, each word drawn out with a chilling calm.

"We warned you not to get involved. Yet, you attacked my men, put them in the hospital, and now the police have them. You should be dead for that—but…"

Abruptly, his screen switched to video. The frame showed Nadia tied to a rusty metal chair, head slumped forward, bruises darkening her face. She was in what looked like an abandoned basement—crumbling walls, damp floors, chains hanging in the background. Only the dim, flickering light in the corner illuminated the area.

Then the video cut off.

The voice resumed, a cold satisfaction in its tone, "Don't worry, she's still alive—for now. But her fate depends on you, Rick. Your little girlfriend stole something from us, something very valuable. She was cosying up to one of our men, and she took it. Now she claims she doesn't know anything, or pretends she's forgotten."

"So, here's the deal: find the item and return it to us in seven days, or pay us one hundred million. And don't involve the police again, unless you want to see death get involved. We'll send you the details soon."

The call cut off abruptly. Rick immediately tried calling back, but the call wouldn't connect.

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[Author's Note: Don't forget to check out my new story: "My Harem Will Help Me Get My Revenge". Link to my new story is down below.]