Missing Mother-To-Be

by Elle Kennedy

  “You’d do that for me?” He sounded gruff. And slightly ashamed. As if he couldn’t possibly fathom how she could make him an offer like that.

  “This wasn’t your idea.” She studied his face. “You got caught up in something that spun out of control. And you’ve been doing everything in your power to keep me safe. I’ll make sure the cops know that.”

  “Why?”

  Because you’re the father of my baby.

  The confession almost popped out, but jammed in her throat at the last second. Not yet. She couldn’t tell him yet. He was beginning to give in, to recognize that they truly needed to get themselves out of this mess. If she told him about the baby now, he might shut down again and dismiss her plan.

  She couldn’t risk that.

  “Because I have to believe you’re a good person,” was what she said instead.

  He shifted in discomfort, his broad shoulders sagging. “Why are you so determined to believe that? I’m not the man you think I am. I’m not—”

  “Delta.” Tango’s sharp voice came from the doorway.

  Both Lana and Deacon turned to look at him. She noticed that Tango’s scar was stretched tight over his cheek, his expression taut with suspicion. Oh, crap. Had he overheard what they’d been talking about?

  She studied his face, but he gave no sign that he’d heard anything of importance. “We need you to help secure the apartment,” he muttered to Deacon.

  With a nod, Deacon headed for the door. “I’ll bring you some lunch shortly,” he said to her without turning around.

  She watched the two men go, listened to the sound of yet another lock sliding into place.

  Lana released a troubled breath. Okay. She was locked up again. But this time, the hope swimming through her remained strong. Steady. Deacon was slowly coming over to her side. He’d heard everything she’d said right now. He’d even seemed to be considering it.

  All she could do now was pray that she’d gotten through to him.

  A week passed before Hank called with another update. The last Sarah had heard, her husband had hired a mercenary to retrieve their daughter. Since then, she’d been going out of her mind with panic, conjuring up so many worst-case scenarios she couldn’t even remember what living without fear had been like.

  When the phone finally rang, she was in Vivienne’s kitchen, staring at a glass emptied of red wine. Viv had flown back to California to be with her children—she had two young teenagers who needed constant attention—but she’d made it clear that Sarah could stay in the Vineyard beach house for as long as she needed.

  Sarah had been tempted to return to California, too, but the thought of being alone in the Beverly Hills mansion she’d shared with her husband sent sorrow spinning through her. She couldn’t face the past yet, not when her future with Hank was still up in the air. Not when her daughter had been a prisoner for more than a month.

  “It’s not good,” were Hank Kelley’s first words.

  Terror seized her heart. “Is she alive?”

  “As far as I know.” He let out a heavy breath. “But the man I sent to rescue her isn’t.”

  “What?”

  “They killed him, Sarah. He was supposed to be one of the best, and these sons of bitches managed to kill him.” Agony rang from his voice. “Cole found the body. Those bastards dropped him off right on the doorstep, a bullet between his eyes.”

  Sarah almost fainted. The phone fell from her hands, clattering against the white marble counter. She dropped her head in her hands and sucked in desperate breaths, fighting the wave of lightheadedness ripping through her.

  “Sarah. Sarah! Sarah!”

  Hank’s voice thudded from the phone. She finally picked up the cell. “I’m here,” she croaked. “I’m… Oh, lord, Hank, who are these people?”

  He didn’t reply.

  “You need to call the FBI,” she burst out. “And I’m calling Jim.”

  “Not yet,” Hank blurted. “I promise you, darling, I’m taking care of it. I’m going to demand proof of life the next time they call, which should be any second now. They’re going to want to brag about their latest surprise.”

  “Proof of life?” she echoed warily.

  “I don’t want to involve anyone else until I know without a doubt that Lana is still alive. For all we know, they’re just playing with us.”

  Another wave of dizziness. The mere thought of Lana being gone made her belly tighten with uncontrollable grief. “Jim might be able to help.”

  “No. I’m not dragging another one of our children into this mess. I wouldn’t be able to live myself if something happened to that boy. Losing Lana is already bad enough.”

  “We haven’t lost her,” she choked out. “Don’t say things like that.”

  A heavy breath filled the line. “I know. I’m sorry.” He paused. “Just sit tight, darling. I’m going to make some calls, and I hope the men who have our daughter will contact me soon. Trust me. I’ll be in touch, Sarah.”

  They disconnected, and Sarah’s head dropped right back between her hands. Tears filled her eyes. Trust me.

  How could he even ask her that, after everything he’d done to their family? But what choice did she have?

  She wanted her daughter back, and Hank was right. If they involved anyone else right now, the kidnappers could panic and kill Lana. If they hadn’t done so already.

  She gathered up every iota of strength in her body, slowly lifting her head. It was becoming glaringly obvious that if she wanted her daughter home safe and sound, she really did need to do the impossible.

  Trust her husband again.

  Chapter 10

  Lana feared her words must have fallen on deaf ears. Another miserable week had gone by, and she was still in D.C., in this lavish bedroom that only served as a reminder that whoever was calling the shots must have a truckload of cash at their disposal. This was no amateur operation. Le Clair’s bosses were no doubt loaded, which meant they had to be extremely important people.

  Her father had plenty of political enemies, but Lana couldn’t even imagine the kind of power needed to undertake this scheme. It was definitely an expensive mission. Deacon and the others must be earning a huge amount of money for them to involve themselves in such a risky and time-consuming assignment, and Le Clair was probably pulling in a hefty amount of dough, too. Not to mention the state-of-the-art equipment, the weapons, the private jet, this fancy apartment. Whoever these men were, they had a lot of money, and a lot of time.

  Unfortunately, time wasn’t on her side here. The pregnancy would start to show soon, yet she still couldn’t bring herself to tell Deacon about the baby. Each time she tried, the words got stuck in her throat like a wad of bubble gum, and she ended up swallowing them down where they congealed into a painful lump in her belly.

  What would happen when she started showing? Sure, it might be another month from now—two even—but what if she was still a hostage at that point? Deacon hadn’t commented on the fullness of her breasts when he’d had his hands on them back at the cabin, but there was no way she’d be able to hide a baby bump from him. Or the others.

  She grew sick at the thought, as she pondered Le Clair’s volatile reaction if he learned his hostage was pregnant.

  When Deacon came into the room, she was still thinking about her dilemma, but any urge to blurt out the truth was squashed when Le Clair appeared at Deacon’s heels. Echo came in, too, and Lana’s chest tightened when she saw the sleek camcorder in his hands.

  “What’s going on?” she asked uneasily.

  “Your daddy thinks we killed you,” Le Clair explained, an irritated frown curling his lips. “We’re here to ease his mind.”

  As usual, Le Clair’s accented voice was cheerful. She imagined him using that same tone while cold-bloodedly killing someone.

  Wait, she didn’t even have to imagine. She’d witnessed it firsthand already.

  Echo moved over to the living area, as Le Clair gestured for her to sit down on t
he love seat. She noticed he made sure to keep her away from the window, in order to ensure that their location wasn’t revealed.

  With great weariness, Lana sat down. Not because she’d been ordered to, but because frankly, she was exhausted. The constant worry and panic battling in her belly were starting to wear her down. She barely even reacted when Le Clair thrust a piece of paper in her hands.

  “What’s this?” she asked woodenly.

  “Your script.” He bared his teeth in a cheerless smile. “Please don’t deviate. I’d really like to get this in one take.”

  She glanced down at the words scrawled on the paper. “What does this mean?”

  “Don’t you worry about that, princess. Just say what’s written.”

  Echo stepped forward, holding the camera. A red light blinked under the lens, indicating he was recording. Le Clair came up beside his goon, signaling with an impatient gesture for her to begin.

  “As you can see, I’m alive,” she recited. “And I will stay that way as long as you cooperate.”

  She hesitated, shooting a desperate look at Deacon, who gave an imperceptible nod. He wanted her to keep going. But that one sentence on the page—it glared up at her like an accusation. And her insides were tied in fearful knots. If she said these words, something bad would happen to her father. She felt it deep in her bones. And as angry as she was with him right now, as hard as it was to accept that her father was the reason she was here, she refused to let anything happen to Hank. She would die before she saw him hurt.

  Le Clair waved his hand angrily, his silver eyes blazing with annoyance.

  Lana took a breath. “So please, Dad,” she said in a wobbly voice. “Come forward and turn yourself in. It’s the only way to—”

  Abruptly, she halted. A wave of defiance swept through her, carrying away the numbness that had plagued her body all week and replacing it with white-hot anger. Enough. She wasn’t playing these damned games anymore. At this point, if these men wanted to kill her, let them.

  She was no longer interested in meek obedience.

  “Don’t do what they say, Daddy!” she blurted out, fixing a steely gaze into the camera lens. “They’re going to kill me regardless—”

  Pain collided with her cheek as Le Clair’s fist came crashing down on her jaw, jerking her head back with incredible force. Then he moved back, completely unruffled, while her jaw throbbed relentlessly, flushing and swelling from the assault. He’d kept his back to the camera, keeping his identity hidden, and he didn’t say a word as he stepped out of the frame and gestured for Echo to stop filming.

  “We doing it again?” Echo said, sounding resigned.

  Le Clair paused, a thoughtful expression crossing his angular face. “No,” he finally decided. “Despite the deviation, I think this will have the precise impact I’m looking for.”

  With that, Le Clair stalked out of the room, Echo on his tail. Deacon remained, and he turned to look at her with both concern and dismay.

  “Why do you keep doing this?” he asked hoarsely. “You need to stop goading that bastard.”

  He walked over to the sofa, hesitated for a beat, then knelt down in front of her. One large warm hand touched her jaw, a tender caress to gauge the injury. “Are you okay?” His hazel eyes searched her face.

  She opened and closed her mouth a few times, testing the pain. “I’m fine. It doesn’t even hurt anymore.”

  “Good.”

  She expected him to get up, but he stayed on his knees. Even in that position, he was so big. So masculine. Despite herself, Lana found her pulse speeding up. His now-familiar scent of spice and soap surrounded her, teasing her senses, and his strong, corded neck bobbed as he visibly swallowed. She felt the urge to wrap her arms around him. To bury her face against that muscular chest, just so she could feel safe for a few fleeting seconds.

  Which was a total joke. She wasn’t safe. As long as she was being held prisoner, she’d never be safe.

  “This…” Deacon cleared his throat, but when he spoke, his voice still came out rusty. “This is killing me, Lana.”

  Surprise flitted through her. Her throat tightened, making it difficult to speak, so she just stared into his serious brown-green eyes like a mute.

  “I can’t stand seeing him do that to you.” The confession seemed painful for him, as if he wasn’t comfortable revealing weakness. Wasn’t happy letting go of his iron control. “When he hit you just now… Jesus, Lana, I wanted to strangle him.”

  “You would’ve gotten us both killed,” she said softly.

  “I know.” He covered her knees with his hands, holding on tight, but she got the feeling he didn’t even realize what he was doing. Despair blazed in his eyes, along with an emotion she couldn’t put her finger on. “You’re right. We need to do something.”

  Hope surrounded her heart. “Are you serious?”

  He nodded. “Whatever’s happening here, it isn’t good. I don’t know what Le Clair’s bosses want from your dad, but I don’t think it’s money. And I don’t think Le Clair ever planned on letting you get out of this alive.”

  Her breath hitched in fear. “He’s going to kill me.”

  Deacon’s shoulders fell. “I think so.”

  Without thinking about what she was doing, she covered his hands with her own. “Then we have to get out of here before that happens.” She squeezed his knuckles and met his tortured gaze. “Will you help me?”

  After a long moment of silence, he nodded again.

  Another burst of hope exploded in her chest. “Tonight?”

  A swift shake of the head. “No. I need to think about the best way to do this.”

  “Okay,” she conceded.

  “And until I come up with a plan, you have to promise me you won’t antagonize Le Clair anymore. Keep following his orders, don’t cause trouble. I don’t want him suspecting that something might be up.”

  She gave another, “Okay.”

  They sat there for a few seconds, Deacon on his knees, Lana on the couch. Their hands were still touching, and warmth sizzled between them.

  “Thank you,” she finally whispered.

  Hank called just as Sarah was stepping out of the shower, her hair dripping water onto her bare shoulders. She dashed for the cell phone she’d left on the dresser.

  “Did you get proof of life?” She nearly shouted the question, not bothering with hello. “Yes.”

  She almost keeled over with relief. “Then she’s alive.”

  “Yes. We got a video.” Hank hesitated. “He hit her.”

  “What?”

  “From what we gathered, they were making her read from a script, and she didn’t cooperate.”

  Sarah felt lightheaded. Oh, Lana. Her baby girl had always been incredibly calm under pressure, but every now and then that headstrong streak of hers reared its ugly head.

  “The man in charge didn’t like what she said, so he punched her in the jaw.” Hank sounded absolutely destroyed. “God, Sarah, it was so difficult to watch.”

  She could imagine. The mere thought of some goon striking her baby girl was enough to send a primal wave of fury through her. Like a mama lioness, she wanted to protect her cub, suddenly wishing the bastard were right here so she could claw his eyes out.

  “But she’s alive,” she said, forcing herself to look on the bright side.

  “Yes.”

  “So what now?”

  There was a beat of silence. “Now I give myself up.”

  Shock jolted into her. “What the hell are you talking about? Now we call the FBI!”

  “I already did.”

  “Thank God,” she said in relief.

  “But their presence won’t change a damn thing. I’m the only one who can save our girl, Sarah.”

  Her stomach tightened with fear. God, he’d gone absolutely insane. “You can’t do this, Hank. You’ll get Lana and yourself killed if you try to negotiate with these people on your own. We need to be smart here.”

  “I am be
ing smart. I’ve caused enough damage, Sarah.” Determination hardened his tone. “I got us into this mess, and I’m sure as hell going to get us out of it. I’ll be in touch, darling.”

  “Hank—”

  The telltale click in her ear told her he’d hung up. Sarah sank onto the edge of the bed, feeling as if she’d just had the wind knocked out of her. That stubborn jerk! Why couldn’t he make an intelligent decision for once in his sorry life?

  Her hands shook wildly as she brought up the contact list on her cell phone. Enough was enough. She wasn’t letting Hank Kelley put his life, or their daughter’s, in danger. Not for a second longer.

  A chipper voice answered the phone as she was connected with the military base. “Put me through to Colonel Keaton,” she demanded, her unsteady voice betraying her lack of confidence.

  “Who may I tell him is calling?”

  “Sarah Mistler Kelley.”

  There was a tiny beat as the switchboard operator must have recognized the name, and then, “Right away, ma’am.”

  Several seconds later, Keaton came on the line, barking out his name and rank.

  Beating straight to the punch, Sarah introduced herself then said, “Colonel, I need you to get an urgent message to Captain Jim Kelley.”

  As the days ticked by on Deacon’s mental calendar, he wondered if he’d ever be able to keep his promise to Lana. He hadn’t changed his mind, though. Not by a long shot. After that video-camera scene with Le Clair, along with the conversation he’d had with Echo and Tango, he was more convinced than ever that he needed to get Lana out of here. The only glitch was, Le Clair wasn’t going anywhere.

  Back at the cabin, the boss had hopped the jet several times, leaving his men in charge. Deacon suspected he was meeting with whoever had hired him, and then, of course, there was the trip to Montana, where, according to Echo, the mercenary’s body had been dumped. With Le Clair breathing down their necks, Deacon was stuck. He’d already decided that he needed Le Clair gone in order to liberate Lana. He’d formulated a plan, gone over the details a hundred times, but he couldn’t execute it until Le Clair took one of his day trips. Which for the moment, didn’t seem to be happening.