CALEB
The call comes at 2:17. An unknown number.
“Ward,” I say, answering on the fifth ring.
At first, there’s silence. Then breathing, deep and ragged—disturbing.
“Took you long enough,” a man’s voice on the other side says. “I was beginning to think you wouldn’t answer.”
I wait a second, gathering myself and fueling the flames of his impatience. “How’d you get this number?” I ask casually, quietly extricating myself from Basia’s bedroom. She’s out like a light from all the alcohol she drank, but who knows when her bladder will wake her. Besides, my tablet is in the living room, and I need it to video Ethan.
“That’s not important,” Basia’s stalker replies with a snarl. “What’s important is that I have her, and if you don’t want her to die, you’ll do as I say.”
Ethan answers my call immediately, clearly still awake. I pretend not to see the fact that his dick and balls are swinging in front of the camera. I use my hand to signal him to listen and put the call on my phone on speaker.
“How exactly do you have her, hmm? She’s in my bed, sleeping peacefully.”
Maybe if I piss him off, he’ll make a mistake. In any case, saying it gives me a kick—he terrorized Basia, it’s the least of what I plan on doing to him.
The stalker growls, swearing under his breath. “The governor has more than one spoiled woman in his life, Ward,” he sneers. “Though I have to say… his wife isn’t as composed as she looks in magazines.”
I blink, my eyes locked with Ethan’s through the video call on the tablet.
“Mrs. Langford?” I ask for confirmation.
The stalker clicks his tongue dismissively. “Maybe I overestimated your intelligence.”
I nod at Ethan, signaling for him to try to get in touch with the governor. We shouldn’t take this lunatic at his word. Ethan’s on the phone before I speak again.
“You hurt her,” I say, flat and lethal, “and you won’t live long enough to regret it.”
“Oh, I won’t live long anyway,” the man replies. “That’s the point.”
Ethan shakes his head at me, his eyes wide.
Shit.
I mouth for him to trace the call, then close my eyes andthink.
“What do you want?” I ask tersely. Basia will be devastated if something happens to her mother. She may have tried to break some of the shackles that come with high society, but I know she talks to her mom at least once a week.
“You,” he says immediately. No hesitation. No bargaining. “You come alone. No toys. No tricks. You bring yourself, and I give her back.”
Ethan’s head snaps up. His eyes meet mine.
I keep my voice steady. “Proof of life.”
A pause. Then my phone vibrates in my hand. I switch to text messages and open a photo sent from the same, unknown number.
Kasia sits in a chair, wrists bound with zip ties, makeup smudged, eyes furious rather than afraid. That checks out—Basia’s mother has always seemed like steel wrapped in silk. A piece of duct tape covers her mouth.
How the fuck did he get to her? With all the security afforded to a man in her husband’s position… It seems unbelievable. I forward the picture to Ethan to check authenticity.
“You have one hour,” the stalker says. “Docklands. Pier Nine. If you’re late, I start cutting. Slowly.”
The line goes dead.
We’re silent for a moment, then Ethan speaks up. “This has to be a trap, man. He wants you out of the way so he can get to Basia.
