Read my Lips
Chapter 11
Kate McNamara worked at the experimental cancer ward inside Duke University's Medical Center. The friends she still made time for called her ambitious. And she was, especially for a girl from such meager beginnings. Kate was currently a first year resident, working to complete her medical degree. When she was done, she planned to return home to the small West Virginia coal mining town she grew up in and set up her own medical practice.
Kate had no idea, but all her big dreams were about to hit a very large roadblock. Because around the same time that Spencer Reid was falling asleep with Eliana's head on his chest, Dr. Kate was waking up in a subterranean dungeon. Kate struggled against the ropes that were used to fasten her wrists to the metal bed frame. The last thing she remembered was waking up in the very early hours of the morning to the feel of a man's hand covering her mouth and the hard pinch of a needle in her arm. And now she was tied to a bed, lying in the same cell where Megan Murphy was held captive before she took her last long walk in the woods.
Over two thousand miles away, on the outskirts of Los Angeles, Karlie Vodianova was walking into a trendy nightclub. She and Dr. Kate McNamara had never met. And they had no awareness of each other, or of the fact that they looked enough alike that most people would assume they were siblings if they saw them in the same room. Karlie's blonde hair was shorter and toned to a trendier silvery blond color. Part of being an aspiring model included maintaining a certain look. But both women had the same clear blue eyes and soft rounded cheeks. They were of similar height, though Karlie was noticeably thinner than her med school counterpart.
Karlie covered her annoyance with a smile as she opened her faux prada bag. Pulling out her Ohio state driver's license, she handed it over to the doorman and ignored the detested chuckle she knew was coming. Karlie Vodianova was her professional name, the one she gave to modeling agencies and audition directors. She thought it made her sound exotic. And hopefully not like she was from nowheresville Ohio. The problem was that Karlie was still saving up the money to have her name changed legally. Which meant her driver's license had Wilma Semon printed on it. Her name was just another item on the extremely long list of reasons why she hadn't gone home to visit her parents in over three years.
Snapping her purse closed, Karlie rolled her eyes. Her annoyance only seemed to further amuse the over muscled doorman. And she headed directly towards the nearest bar with his laughter still ringing in her ears. Her slim hips twitched in her short tight dress. But it was her blonde hair that caught the eye of a man that was playing pool on the other side of the club. When his eyes landed on Karlie, he flubbed his shot and nearly sent the eight ball flying into the closest pocket.
Karlie spent the last week attending every go-see and open audition call she could find. She even went to the ones that seemed sketchy and required her to take most if not all of her clothes off. But so far she hadn't received a single call back, let alone a booking. Her rent was six days past due. The only items left in her refrigerator were a half a bottle of ketchup and an empty pickle jar. And that was probably for the best, since her electricity was scheduled for shut off if she didn't make a payment in the next four days.
"What can I get you?," the bartender asked, offering Karlie a welcoming smile as she approached the bar. It was early enough that the club was still relatively quiet. There was a group of middle aged women with stereotypical LA overtightened faces drinking skinny margaritas at the other end of the bar. But other than that, most of the barstools were unoccupied.
"A water," Karlie said, letting a heavy sigh escape her lips. "...and a job application." The bartender offered her a sympathetic smile. She was at least ten years older than Karlie, but equally as attractive, with large hazel eyes and a head full of long dark wavy hair. Karlie wondered what sort of dream brought her to California. No one moved to Hollywood because they wanted to spend their nights slinging drinks for rich tourists and wannabe movie stars.
"She'll have a vodka martini. On me."
Karlie turned, glancing over her shoulder at the man that had appeared behind her without warning. He startled her when he spoke. She didn't realize anyone was standing so close. The man was handsome, despite being closer to her father's age than hers. And Karlie quickly decided that she was in no position to be choosy. She gave the bartender a nod, indicating she would accept the drink the man ordered for her. And then she smiled and gestured to the empty seat next to her, inviting him to sit.
"I'll have another Maker's Mark on the rocks," he added.
The man opened his wallet and pulled two twenties from his bulging billfold, setting them down on the bartop. The waitress took the cash with a smile and hurried off to fetch their drinks. Karlie smiled, trying not to think about the fact that he had what was probably three months worth of rent stuffed casually in the inner pocket of his designer suit jacket. Vague notions of sleeping with him and cleaning out his wallet crossed her mind. She'd never done anything like that before. But there was a saying about desperate times.
"You look familiar. Do I know you from somewhere?," Karlie asked, though she wasn't sure where she'd seen the man before. Or even if she actually had seen him. He was handsome in that generic Hollywood way that always seemed to look partially manufactured. His facial features were just masculine enough to hint at being rugged without actually going all the way. Sort of like a real life Ken doll. Karlie knew the type. He probably had some work done. She would be willing to bet that, at the very least, he had an expensive set of hair plugs and a lot of botox. And a high dollar personal trainer. He looked straight from the gym muscular under his tailored suit. When she bought her one way bus ticket to Californai, she never thought she'd end up homesick for over-tanned farm boys from Darke County Ohio.
Karlie assumed her question fed the man's ego, because his smile widened before he answered it. "You've probably seen my billboards," he said, pausing for a moment while the pretty bartender dropped off their drinks. He waited until she walked away before he introduced himself. "I'm Will Reynolds. Doctor Will Reynolds, plastic surgeon to the stars." He added the last part with a chuckle, like it was an inside joke between them.
"Oh my gosh," Karlie exclaimed, no longer needed to feign her interest in him. "I've seen you on tv." He appeared on a few episodes of her favorite reality tv show. Anyone who was anyone in the business that had their tits done, had them done by Dr. Will. He worked on actresses, models, even adult entertainers. Karlie had no idea when she walked into the club looking for a job as a bottle girl that she was going to end up having a drink with Los Angeles' most eligible bachelor.
Will offered the girl his hand, smiling when she reached for it without hesitation. He gave her his name. But he didn't ask for hers. He already knew all he needed to know about her. She was blonde. She was young. She was gorgeous. And he was willing to bet that she took more care with her personal hygiene than some overworked Duke University medical intern. If she was looking for work as a model, it was almost a guarantee that her pussy would be waxed bare. And inside her last season designer shoes, her toes were freshly painted. Will doubted his accomplice could say the same for his latest catch. But then again, Casanova had different priorities. He liked his women pretty. But he also liked them smart and accomplished. He was after more than just a gorgeous face. He wanted to fall in love. Will had no such desires for a woman with education or unique talents. He never kept his conquests alive long enough to worry what a conversation with them might be like.
Waiting for his young blonde prey to finish her drink was agony of the absolute best kind. Will was in a hurry. His dick was already hard behind the zipper of his custom tailored designer slacks. He was aching to see her pale creamy flesh rubbed raw from the rope he was going to tie her up with. Will was eager for the taste of her. And impatient. But he wasn't sloppy. He asked the girl a few well rehearsed questions. And he pretended like he cared about her dull little life long enough to determine that she was estranged from her family and had no close friends in the area. A few times he had to let his prey escape if he felt the kill was too risky. But that was not the case tonight. This was a girl that no one would miss.