Into the Basement, the first of the Kim Bennett series. In the seedy adult night life and clubs of San Francisco, women are disappearing. Frantic, three detectives pull Kim Bennett into the search for a killer and witness her abduction into the basement, then experience a raw dark story of sadistic people that pits Kim's physical and mental agility against one of the fastest rising crimes in America, sexual slavery.
This is an adult story that has been described as "juicy."
This is an adult story that has been described as "juicy."
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Into the Basement
Chapter 1
Someone was hunting a female. Mean, hardened eyes. She left work on time, routine. Susie Smallwood was the target.
Behind the bluish-gray of the San Francisco fog he tracked her. Her blonde hair stood out. She was easy to follow so was the scent of her perfume. It hung in the air. He stalked her for a block clinging to the darkness and the poorly lit street hid all movement.
She didn’t look back. Yet a noise caught her attention. Someone was there. Heavy shoes, male, big male. Some lonely old man wanting a quick exchange of words was what she thought. She picked up the pace just the same. So did the footsteps. Then a splashing noise. Then more footsteps approaching on the pavement behind her and she realized it was getting closer. Starting to panic she thought, be stern, don’t show any fear.
Susie looked over her shoulder but didn’t see anything and racing through her mind were the words, get to the car.
Her keys, cold and hard were digging into her knuckles and something was happening. Something she feared. Someone was there. Approaching her vehicle, it stopped. The sound of footsteps disappeared. There was silence. Cold freighting silence.
Susie stopped for a moment, and listened, then took a deep breath. With her car in sight she was home free.
She heard a sound. Turning to see who it was, she saw a blur of a shape, felt a sharp blow across her temples, and her brain exploded into brilliant lights. Then something hit her teeth. Then again.
Staggering, Susie collapsed against her car sliding down the metal door onto her back, her temples throbbing. Blood ran from her mouth. Teeth were missing. Motionless, she lay there. Her eyes flickered and came back into focus. A male, big male towering above her smiled down.
“Ve’re finished playing, yes?” The accent was foreign.
Victor Gorsky was a rugged European with growth on his face. He had dark brown eyes, thin lips and no distinguishing marks. His thick black wavy hair curled over his ears and on his neck. He was easy to forget. When described by women, good looking was never mentioned. His dress was grungy, baggy corduroy pants and a plain dark green colored shirt. At five ten and one ninety-five his stocky build fit snugly into his dark blue windbreaker.
Minutes later a small sports car moved swiftly from the area of the club and turned onto Ivy Street.
The cold wind swept past the rocks of Alcatraz and up the curving side streets, the Mission District felt the chill of the late night air. Traces of eastern spices from Chinatown teased the nostrils but few people were on the street this evening to appreciate it. For those that were, getting out of the damp cold was more important than watching a big man, a Russian.
In the trunk was the assignment no one had seen a thing. She was helpless. Bound with gray duct tape across her mouth, white plastic police cuffs on her wrists and her hands were twisted behind her back. When Susie woke up she could not believe what had happened. It was so quick and she was so helpless.
A glance in the mirror was enough to satisfy Victor that he was safe and driving out of the city, knew he had picked the right one. Reaching up he brushed the wet hair from his face and wiped the slick moisture on his pants. He was sweating.
Victor turned and yelled toward the trunk, “No sound, yes?”
His voice was loud enough to send chills down Susie’s spine. He liked talking to his victims, they gave him their full attention and that didn’t happen often. Nobody gave anything to Victor. He had to take it.
The car edged onto the Bay Bridge and through the tunnel. Forty minutes later Victor pulled into a driveway and stopped. No house was visible.
Opening the trunk and peering down at her, Susie’s eyes were wide open in fear.
She screamed into the gag, “Let me go!”
But all he heard was the muffled sound of pleasure. Lifting her sweatshirt, the sight of her breasts and nipples stirred a desire deep inside. But not tonight, maybe not ever. She was not his. He stroked her plump breast like petting a soft puppy. It had been awhile since he had felt such a young firm body and sensing her fear, he enjoyed it. Darkness was all around. Emptiness was all he could see. Susie could see nothing.
Victor slowly focused his eyes and looked at her. “For me the assignment has come to an end, for you, it is just beginning.” Then he paused making the sign of the cross on his chest, “Let’s go.”
Behind the bluish-gray of the San Francisco fog he tracked her. Her blonde hair stood out. She was easy to follow so was the scent of her perfume. It hung in the air. He stalked her for a block clinging to the darkness and the poorly lit street hid all movement.
She didn’t look back. Yet a noise caught her attention. Someone was there. Heavy shoes, male, big male. Some lonely old man wanting a quick exchange of words was what she thought. She picked up the pace just the same. So did the footsteps. Then a splashing noise. Then more footsteps approaching on the pavement behind her and she realized it was getting closer. Starting to panic she thought, be stern, don’t show any fear.
Susie looked over her shoulder but didn’t see anything and racing through her mind were the words, get to the car.
Her keys, cold and hard were digging into her knuckles and something was happening. Something she feared. Someone was there. Approaching her vehicle, it stopped. The sound of footsteps disappeared. There was silence. Cold freighting silence.
Susie stopped for a moment, and listened, then took a deep breath. With her car in sight she was home free.
She heard a sound. Turning to see who it was, she saw a blur of a shape, felt a sharp blow across her temples, and her brain exploded into brilliant lights. Then something hit her teeth. Then again.
Staggering, Susie collapsed against her car sliding down the metal door onto her back, her temples throbbing. Blood ran from her mouth. Teeth were missing. Motionless, she lay there. Her eyes flickered and came back into focus. A male, big male towering above her smiled down.
“Ve’re finished playing, yes?” The accent was foreign.
Victor Gorsky was a rugged European with growth on his face. He had dark brown eyes, thin lips and no distinguishing marks. His thick black wavy hair curled over his ears and on his neck. He was easy to forget. When described by women, good looking was never mentioned. His dress was grungy, baggy corduroy pants and a plain dark green colored shirt. At five ten and one ninety-five his stocky build fit snugly into his dark blue windbreaker.
Minutes later a small sports car moved swiftly from the area of the club and turned onto Ivy Street.
The cold wind swept past the rocks of Alcatraz and up the curving side streets, the Mission District felt the chill of the late night air. Traces of eastern spices from Chinatown teased the nostrils but few people were on the street this evening to appreciate it. For those that were, getting out of the damp cold was more important than watching a big man, a Russian.
In the trunk was the assignment no one had seen a thing. She was helpless. Bound with gray duct tape across her mouth, white plastic police cuffs on her wrists and her hands were twisted behind her back. When Susie woke up she could not believe what had happened. It was so quick and she was so helpless.
A glance in the mirror was enough to satisfy Victor that he was safe and driving out of the city, knew he had picked the right one. Reaching up he brushed the wet hair from his face and wiped the slick moisture on his pants. He was sweating.
Victor turned and yelled toward the trunk, “No sound, yes?”
His voice was loud enough to send chills down Susie’s spine. He liked talking to his victims, they gave him their full attention and that didn’t happen often. Nobody gave anything to Victor. He had to take it.
The car edged onto the Bay Bridge and through the tunnel. Forty minutes later Victor pulled into a driveway and stopped. No house was visible.
Opening the trunk and peering down at her, Susie’s eyes were wide open in fear.
She screamed into the gag, “Let me go!”
But all he heard was the muffled sound of pleasure. Lifting her sweatshirt, the sight of her breasts and nipples stirred a desire deep inside. But not tonight, maybe not ever. She was not his. He stroked her plump breast like petting a soft puppy. It had been awhile since he had felt such a young firm body and sensing her fear, he enjoyed it. Darkness was all around. Emptiness was all he could see. Susie could see nothing.
Victor slowly focused his eyes and looked at her. “For me the assignment has come to an end, for you, it is just beginning.” Then he paused making the sign of the cross on his chest, “Let’s go.”
