My head is pounding so hard the pressure bounces off my skull. A million and one questions roam around my thoughts, but no matter how hard I try to make sense of this, I come up short. Nothing makes sense anymore, not that it ever did.
“Well, not exactly.” He pauses, and finally, his breathing no longer attacks my senses. “He paid us to get rid of your little boyfriend, but then we realized you’d make a better mark. An easier one.”
I open my mouth to speak, but the words fall off my tongue as a mix of emotions flood my system. What would my father know about Easton? And why is he involved with men like them?
Dad is a lot of things, a workaholic, cheater, and liar, but he’s never been crooked.
“You’re lying,” I blurt out, the words weak and in shambles.
I’m met with laughter, a deep guttural roar that shakes me to my core.
“If that were true, then you’d know not to test my boyfriend.” I try to sound brave, but it’s useless. I can’t even convince myself, so how am I supposed to convince them?
“Oh, baby doll, we’ll be long gone by the time your man hears about this. Let’s just hope your daddy loves you just as much as he claims he does.” He strokes my cheek, and I jerk away from his grasp. “Don’t worry, we won’t hurt you. But if dear ol’ dad doesn’t give us what we want…they may never find you again.”
I’m shaking now, and the tears I’ve managed to keep at bay come pouring down. He’s sick, they both are for kidnapping me, but this one is worse.
“I contacted him,” the deep-voice guy says.
My tormentor stands, the air feeling empty when he does. For whatever reason, knowing he’s no longer directly beside me comforts me, allowing me to release the breath I hadn’t realized I’d been holding.
“What did you say?”
“What we talked about. One million wired to an off-shore account by three p.m.”
“Whew,” the other guy whistles. “What do you think, sweet cheeks? Are you worth a measly million to your pops?”
I hold my head up high, doing my best to stop my nerves. My family is worth ten times that. Now all I can do is hope my dad gives them what they want.
“Probably not. Did you know he wouldn’t even give in when your boyfriend tried to work him?”
“W-what?” I stutter and turn toward his voice.
He chuckles. “Wow, you really don’t know what goes on around you, do you?”
He stops talking, then there is a low scraping sound, almost as if someone is dragging something across the carpet. Next, I feel something against my knee and soon realize he’s taking a seat in front of me. I only know because I hear the way he grunts and feel a slight breeze when he sits.
“So your boyfriend—Easton, right? He and his brother tried blackmailing your father. Twenty percent of his business or the brother will do unspeakable things to you. They had to beat him senseless before he’d agree. Like, the old bastard actually looked at pictures of his precious daughter—you look really good naked by the way. But as I was saying, he saw the photos, and when given the opportunity to choose between you and his money…I’m sorry to tell you, sweetie, but he chose money.”
“No. He wouldn’t do that,” I say, more for my own beliefs than theirs.
We fight. Barely speak. But at the end of it all, I’m his little girl, and he’d never betray me like this. They’re lying, saying whatever they can to get under my skin—to taunt me.
For the next several hours I sit silently, letting what he shared sink deep into my mind. It can’t be true. I’ve never talked to Easton about my family, hell, we’ve never really talked about anything. Why would he blackmail my dad? How would he even know who he is?
I tell myself over and over that my father will rescue me. He’ll give them the money, he’ll put my life above his work for once. But the clock ticks, and with every passing moment I feel my grip on faith and hope slipping away. Every time one of my captors asks,Any word?orDid he send it?I lose my breath.
There’s a sigh coming from the other side of the room. “This is unfortunate, sweetheart. It’s three-o-five. Seems like Daddy doesn’t care about you after all.”
I flinch at the sound of a gun cocking. “Please. Don’t—”
I start to beg but am interrupted by a loud crack. A rush of cold air sweeps over me, and I think it’s the door. Someone kicked it open. I get my answer when I hear two muffled gunshots, as if they are using one of those silencer attachments, and the sound of Easton’s voice.
A pair of hands fiddle with the ropes that bind me to the chair. I recognize his scent first, relief hitting me in waves. But it’s hearing his voice that drives it all home.
“I got you, amore.”
Chapter Eighteen
