The Ransom (32 page)

Zara nodded. “To the tune of a million dollars.”

Draco winked at her. “Go straight to the top of the class, baby. You’re just as smart as you look.”

A sinking feeling weighed heavily in Zara’s belly.
Draco was telling the truth.
He had to be. How else would he know about Carolyn Rippling and Trudy Harbord? They’d been among her stepmother’s closest friends for years, often over at the house for afternoon tea or a game of bridge. They met once a month for book club.

She shook her head. It was too much. And yet, a small part of her was relieved: relieved that her father wasn’t involved. Relieved that all the things she’d thought about him weren’t true. That he was as good and upright and noble as she’d always thought him to be.

It wasn’t his fault his wife was a drug addict who put out to a biker for her next hit. In fact, Zara couldn’t help but admire him for his loyalty, even if it was sadly misplaced.

Anger ignited inside her, burning her earlier fear away.
This was all Allison’s fault.
She was the reason Olivia had been taken. She was the reason Zara’s father had lied. She was also the reason Zara now found herself at the mercy of a man who appeared not to know the meaning of the word.

She moved on the couch and the pain from her bladder intensified. A moan escaped before she could stop it. Draco frowned and came toward her.

“What the fuck’s the matter?”

Heat scoured Zara’s cheeks. She refused to meet his gaze, but she was getting beyond desperate.

“I-I need to use the bathroom.”

“Why the fuck didn’t you say so?” Draco grunted, and strode to the wall behind her. He pushed against it. A door built into the plasterboard, previously unnoticed, opened inward, revealing a small, but clean bathroom.

“Help yourself.”

Relief flooded her. She struggled off the couch. “Please, do you mind releasing my hands?”

“For fuck’s sake, woman, is there no end to your demands? Turn around.”

Zara bit her lip and did as he asked. Within moments, her hands were free. Almost instantaneously, an agony of fire raced up her arms.

“Oh, God,” she cried, tears springing to her eyes.

Draco snorted with more than a hint of satisfaction. “You’re the one who wanted me to untie them. I could have told you it was going to hurt like shit.”

Flexing and wringing and shaking her hands, Zara tried to keep her mind off the excruciating pain as circulation returned to her fingers. Stumbling into the bathroom, she flicked on the light and closed the door behind her.

A mirror hung above a small ceramic sink. It was stained from years of wear. She desperately longed for a drink and to splash water over her injured face, but the needs of her body were greater and she turned a little reluctantly to the toilet that stood nearby.

With gritted teeth, she managed to make her fingers work well enough to lower her underwear. The relief, as she finally emptied her bladder, was unimaginable.

When she was finished, she flushed the toilet and washed her face and hands in the sink. She couldn’t remember the last time she’d passed a night without a shower.

Zara stared into the mirror and stared at the face of a stranger. As she’d suspected, the eye that had taken the brunt of Draco’s fist was mostly swollen shut. Dark blue bruises surrounded the area, discoloring her skin. A graze on her cheek reminded her of the first punch she’d taken and she dabbed at the redness with cool water. Her long hair was a mess, tangled and unkempt.

A hard knock came at the door, followed by an indecipherable growl. She took quick stock of her surroundings and her shoulders slumped. The room was small and windowless. There was no possible way to escape. With a sigh of regret and a cold wad of apprehension churning in her belly, she turned and opened the door.

CHAPTER THIRTY-FOUR

Wednesday, January 31, 10:46 a.m.

The phone at David’s elbow rang and he frowned at it in annoyance. He was buried knee-deep in draft legislation that had to be reviewed before the next parliamentary sitting and he didn’t appreciate the interruption.

The house had been quiet, with Brittany returning to school and Allison out doing whatever it was she did on a week-day morning.

David’s frown deepened. He really needed to make more of an effort to be part of his wife’s daily life. For too long, they’d let the everyday mundaneness, the kids and his career take over. There never seemed to be enough time for just the two of them. It was probably the reason Allison had felt the need to turn to drugs. At least that had gotten his attention.

He had no reason to feel guilty, but he did, just the same. Vowing to spend more time with her, starting tomorrow, he finally answered the phone.

“David Dowton,” he said.

“I was beginning to think you weren’t going to pick up.”

David’s breath caught in his throat at the sound of the all-too-familiar voice on the other end of the line. “Dr-Draco, what the hell? W-why are you calling me?”

“Come now, Attorney General. Surely you didn’t think you’d get rid of me that easily? I’m out a fuckin’ million dollars. That’s not something worth forgetting.”

“So it
was
you. Allison was right. That nonsense with Boris was all a smoke screen. He’s sitting in jail and you’re running around footloose and fancy free—you son of a bitch.”

“Talk as fancy as you fuckin’ like. It isn’t going to change anything and it certainly won’t make me go away. Let’s try this again: Your wife owes me a million dollars and I fuckin’ want it. Get it to me by midnight.
Or else.
”

David blanched at the menace in Draco’s voice, but bravely called his bluff. “Why should I care about your threats? One phone call and every police officer within a ten-mile radius will be all over you in minutes.”

“Ah, but this is where you’re wrong. You’re forgetting I have someone dear to you.
Very
dear to you, or so I’ve been told. She’s trussed up like a turkey, spread out on my couch, ready for whatever I might do to her.”

A tremor of fear shivered up David’s spine, but he ignored it and did his best to sound unconcerned. “I think you’re the one with the faulty memory, Draco, and you’re way behind the times. Your hired help stuffed up. Boris took the wrong girl. My daughter escaped unscathed and the police rescued Olivia Munro yesterday. She’s safe and sound back home, where she belongs.”

“Who said anything about the young ones? It’s your other daughter I’m talking about.”

Icy fingers of dread seized David’s heart and squeezed like a vice. Fighting for breath, he forced the words out of his mouth.

“W-what the hell? Z-Zara?”

“Zara.” Draco stretched out her name as if testing the sound of it on his tongue. “Such an exotic name. It suits her. I can’t wait to fuck her. I bet she tastes as good as her stepmother.”

Shock and fury exploded in David’s chest. His face burned with rage, tinged with a sharp edge of panic.

“You’re lying.”

A humorless chuckle sounded in his ear. “You wish.”

David clenched his fingers around the phone, his thoughts in a frenzy of fear. “You touch one hair on my daughter’s head and you’ll wish you were dead.”

More laughter greeted his threat. “Seems like Allison was right. She said you’d do anything to get the girl back. Oh, I’m
so
going to enjoy this.” A growl of raucous laughter grated against his ear.

David reared back like he’d been struck with a sledge hammer. His heart thundered so hard inside his chest he feared he was having a heart attack. He clutched at his ribs in an effort to stem the pain. Confusion threatened to overwhelm him.

“W-what are you talking about?” he wheezed. “Allison? What the hell does my wife have to do with this?”

* * *

David returned the phone to its cradle with a hand that refused to stop trembling. The pain in his chest tightened to an almost unbearable level and he wondered a little more frantically if he were dying.

He sat, paralyzed with shock, in his chair. A myriad of panicked thoughts swirled around his head, each one ramping up the tension in his gut.
Draco had Zara.
At least, he said he did. And apparently, Allison knew about it.

He shook his head with increasing vehemence, unwilling to believe his wife could have anything to do with Zara’s kidnapping. It was ludicrous, beyond ridiculous. Allison had a drug problem, but she was still the woman he married. She was still the woman who’d healed his grieving heart, the woman who’d taken a child who was not her own into her arms and into her life—the woman he loved with everything that he had.

He wouldn’t entertain such a thought, even for a second. No way. End of story.

Besides, the scumbag biker was probably lying. Zara might not even be missing. Draco was a man who’d cut his teeth on dishonesty and deception. It would be just like him to say he had her when he didn’t—in an effort to make David pay.

And pay he would.
He was a man of his word, after all. His wife had run up the debt. He would see that it was made good. He’d always intended to pay, once his fury cooled and would have done so without the kidnapping attempts. It angered and saddened him to know that a little girl had suffered as a result of his tardiness.

Didn’t anyone have patience anymore?
What kind of a society had they become when one’s own importance outweighed good old fashioned consideration?

He sighed. A battle over the current standard of morals was one that would have to wait for another day. He owed the president of the Redbacks a million dollars. As much as he’d tried to avoid it, there was no running from the fact. Draco had to be paid and if he indeed had Zara as he’d bragged, facilitating payment of the debt had just become his number one priority.

With a hand that trembled even more violently, he reached over and picked up the phone. At the same time, he tugged Detective Senior Sergeant Black’s business card from his shirt pocket.

* * *

Lane’s phone rang where he’d left it on the kitchen counter. He’d grown more and more anxious as the minutes turned into hours and Zara still hadn’t returned his call. But with the ringing of his phone, his apprehension was forgotten and replaced with a surge of relief.

It had to be her
.

He strode over and glanced at the screen, anticipation flooding through him. His shoulders slumped. It wasn’t her. The number was blocked and with a shrug of irritation, he picked up the phone and answered it.

“Detective Black.” His greeting was met with silence and he frowned.

He tried again. “Hello? Who is this?”

“Detective.” The caller cleared his throat and spoke again. “Detective Black, it’s David Dowton.”

Lane’s heart skipped a beat and then resumed a staccato against the soft cotton of his T-shirt. He flushed, as if the Attorney General somehow knew of the licentious thoughts Lane had had about the AG’s daughter.

“David. What a surprise. Is there something I can do for you?”

“It’s about Zara.”

Lane stilled at the solemnity of his tone.
Surely, she hadn’t gone home and told her father?
He forced himself to speak.
“W-what about her?”

“I-I’m trying to locate her. I found a note last night that she left in her room. She said was meeting with you.”

“That’s correct. We met up about lunchtime.” Memories of her body pressed against his on the couch nearly overwhelmed him. He struggled to push the images aside. “Is there…? Is there a problem?”

The Attorney General sighed heavily on the other end of the phone. Lane’s alarm ratcheted up a notch, along with his heart rate.

“Zara didn’t come home last night. I called her office, but they haven’t seen or heard from her. I was hoping… That is, I was hoping she stayed with you. That…that you might know where she is.”

Ice slaked Lane’s heart. His fingers clenched around the phone. “What do you mean, she didn’t come home last night? She left my place before eight.”

Lane bit his tongue, but the words were already out. He shrugged off his instinctive concern. He really didn’t care that Zara’s father knew she’d spent several hours at his house. If he had his way, and if she ever returned his calls, she’d be spending much more time there than that.

“If she left your house last night, where is she now?”

The AG’s words crashed through his musings, snapping him back to the present. Lane strode over to the window that overlooked the street below and pushed aside the blinds. An unfamiliar, sleek, silver BMW was parked several yards down the road. A sinking feeling hit him low in his gut.

“What kind of car does your daughter drive?”

“A silver Z4M BMW Roadster.”

Tension gripped Lane’s shoulders. His mouth went dry. There was no good reason why Zara’s car should still be parked outside his building.

“Fuck.” Though he’d spoken softly, the AG immediately reacted.

“What’s the matter? What do you know?”

“I don’t know anything, but I’m pretty sure her car’s still parked outside my building.”

“So, you didn’t see her leave?”

“No, I didn’t.” Lane was
so
not ready to explain in greater detail, especially to her father.