She didn’t know who her husband was. At all. It was clear that he was much more than she’d ever seen. She’d known that he had secrets, but then, who didn’t?
Her eyes filled with tears that she refused to shed. She had to think about her baby. She could stay home and confront him, but she was afraid that he’d somehow convince her to stay.
She was done with the secrets. She dealt with enough from her dad.
Her daddy. He’d know what to do about this.
She gulped down her chamomile tea and washed out her tea cup. She opened up her MacBook and put up a vacation notice on her Etsy shop. She went upstairs and packed up some of her clothes and some toiletries into her biggest suitcase. She lugged it downstairs and put it into the spacious trunk of her Lexus SUV. She had thought that it was a thoughtful wedding present, but she had to wonder now where Andreas had gotten the money. Was it clean?
She called her dad while she drove towards her childhood home, but he wasn’t answering his phone. She left a message for him to meet her at their boathouse, which was her childhood hideout.
Phoebe saw that the needle of her fuel gauge was very close to empty. She pulled into the nearest BP. She swiped her card and waited for her tank to fill up.
Her stomach grumbled suddenly. Apparently the buttery omelette sandwich wasn’t enough for the baby.
“I’ll feed you soon, I promise.” She patted her baby. No matter what happened, she would never regret having a baby conceived in love, even if it turned out that the baby’s father was something that she’d never even contemplated.
Throughout her pregnancy, she’d been Mrs. Waterworks, but she was very strangely calm. Maybe it was because she was operating under total shock. It would’ve been one thing if she’d seen that Andreas had some sort of secret life, probably a criminal one, but she had no idea. She loved Andreas completely. She knew that he was some kind of criminal, but she didn’t really want to know more than that.
Her father had been right all along: Andreas’ lack of family was definitely a symptom of a bigger problem. Maybe Andreas’ criminal activity was a reason why he’d been late so often.
Finally, her tank was full. She replaced the handle where it belonged before closing the opening. She got a receipt from the gas pump. She locked her car and headed towards the inside of the gas station. She had a really strong craving for Cheetos.
“Phoebe.” A deep voice was speaking behind her. She turned and found a hand covering her mouth, muffling her screams as she lost consciousness.
16
Mansion
Phoebe
Phoebe woke up in the back of an SUV that was going through a winding driveway leading to a huge estate. She looked through the windows, but all she could see was a huge expanse of green in every direction, almost like a golf course. Her heart began to pound, but she needed to keep a grip. She was still clothed. Nothing had been done to her besides being knocked out. Her hands were free. She had to keep her head. She wished that she’d taken self defense classes.
She told herself over and over to stay calm as the car pulled up to a very well-dressed man and two bodyguards in black at each side.
He opened her car door.
“Welcome, lovely Phoebe. You look prettier than the pictures. Won’t you come in and eat?”
He asked as if she had a choice, which she didn’t. Phoebe resisted the urge to put a hand on her baby. If she was lucky, this creep didn’t know about the baby and wouldn’t be able to use the baby as a bargaining chip.
“Of course,” she said, keeping up with the pretense that she had a choice here. “I’d love to.”
“Take my arm, dear.”
Phoebe swallowed hard and then did as he asked. She hoped that he wouldn’t hurt her, but she didn’t have any control over the situation.
They walked inside of a very large house, a house big enough that she might call it a mansion.
“You’re very beautiful, my dear. You look so much more like your mother than your father.”
Phoebe swallowed hard again. How much did this guy know about her? Why was he talking about her parents?
They walked into a large dining room with two table settings that were beautifully done.
“I hope you don’t mind a rustic meal, my dear. I don’t stand on ceremony much. Just some pasta, if that’s okay.”
“Yes, I love pasta.”
“Good, good.”
Phoebe had the surreal experience of her kidnapper pulling her chair out for her and waiting for her to be seated before he took his own seat.
They ate quietly. Phoebe was expecting for there to be some kind of strange bitterness or any kind of indication of poison or drugs, but there wasn’t anything besides normal fettucine alfredo.
When she was done, she wiped her mouth.
“Did you like it, dear Phoebe?”
Why did he insist on using endearments? She’d never met him before. “It was delicious. Thank you.”
“Oh, my chef deserves all the praise, but I’ll pass it on. Would you like dessert?”
“No, thank you.” Phoebe couldn’t eat another bite. The serving had been more than generous.
“Then let’s get down to a little business, shall we?”
“Business? I don’t even know your name.”
He hit the side of his head with his palm gently. “Oh, how rude. I’m Odhran Garin.”
“Phoebe, but I know that you know that already.”
He inclined his head just a smidgen. “Yes, I do.” He cleared his throat. “My dear, do you know anything about the Crucible?”
Phoebe felt her her eyebrows float upward.
“No.”
He frowned at her and shook his head. “That’s unfortunate.”
Phoebe frowned back at him. What did he mean?
“Well, I should show you to your chambers, dear Phoebe.”
He got to his feet and pulled out her chair. He put her hand on his arm again as he walked up a flight of steps. She got to the top-most floor of the mansion when he turned and brought her to a room.
“Here are your chambers. You should get some rest, dear Phoebe.”
Strange. She was sleepy all the time now because of the baby, but being told to rest was weird.
She stepped inside of the room and Odhran closed the door behind her. She was very startled to realize that there wasn’t a door knob on the other side. She could hear the thunk of a deadbolt sliding. She was locked in with no way out.
She could see that she had a bathroom attached to her bedroom, so she would be okay for the moment.
Phoebe promised herself that she would cry. She sat down on the edge of her bed before falling backwards and staring at the ceiling. Her head was full of confusion. Odhran wanted some kind of Crucible. Was this about her dad or her husband? Why was this guy being so polite and vague? Why was her lack of knowledge about the Crucible unfortunate?
17
Black Box
Andreas
When Andreas got home, the first thing he saw was the black box full of his passports. He felt like someone had punched him in the gut. She knew.
“Phoebe!” he called. “Baby, where are you?”
No answer.
He walked around the house, looking in the TV room where she liked to nap.
Then he went downstairs to the basement. He stared at the secret room. She’d seen the guns inside. He felt as if he might throw up, but he swallowed hard and forced it down.
He walked up to their bedroom. He found most of her toiletries gone and her closet mostly empty. Her huge suitcase, the one that he liked to tease her could house a family of five, was gone.
She couldn’t have gone far, right? He tried to control his breathing to calm himself down. He went back downstairs to gather up his black box. It wasn’t safe to leave that kind of thing just laying around. He put it back downstairs in his safe and locked all of it away agin. It was safe enough, or it had been before his wife had found it. It’d have to do f
or now. He would find a new hiding place once he found his missing wife.
He walked back upstairs to hear his cell phone ringing. He rushed to where he’d left it on the countertop.
HAROLD KAINE said his caller ID. He might as well face the inevitable. He couldn’t avoid her father. Phoebe was gone. He might need the old man’s help to find her.
When Andreas hit accept, the first thing out of Mr. Kaine’s mouth was, “What did you do?”
“Phoebe is missing.”
“What?”
“Is she with you? I need to know that she’s safe.”
“She’s not with me. She’s not at home?”
“No.”
He could hear Harold breathing hard over the phone.
“I want you to run a trace on her credit cards and phone, okay? We need to locate her last known location.”
“Easy. I’ve had a trace on her for years.”
Not a surprise. Andreas could hear tapping from the other end.
“The last time she used a credit card was at a gas station. Let’s go.” Harold rattled off the address of a BP station not too far away.
“I’ll see you there.”
Andreas hung up and got into his car, tapping the address into his GPS. He drove like the devil was behind him and parked in one of the parking spaces on the side of the gas station. As soon as he got out of his car, Harold was right there. Harold grabbed his collar with both hands.
“What’s going on?” Harold shouted into his face, his face red. “Where’s my daughter?”
Andreas bit back his sharp retort. He knew that Harold was overwrought because Phoebe was missing.
“Please remove your hands from my collar.”
Glaring, Harold loosened his grip and then finally let go.
“I knew you were trouble. I swear to God, if you’ve harmed one hair on her head…”
The moment was broken by buzzing coming from Harold’s phone.
Andreas watched Harold’s face go from red to white.
“What’s wrong?”
Harold held up his phone mutely.
Expect a call, Harold.
“Who wrote the text message?”
“Someone I wish I didn’t know.”
Harold went straight into the gas station. The kid behind the counter had milk-white skin, terrible acne, and blond dreads.
“Okay, kid, I want to see footage of the outside from the last four hours.” Harold flashed his FBI badge at the kid.
“You’re going to need a warrant for that.” The kid stood up straighter. Andreas noticed that the kid’s shirt had an image of a snake saying, “Don’t Tread On Me.” The boy was obviously libertarian. He might have very slender arms, but he also had a steel backbone.
“We should try something else. Call a judge, maybe.” Andreas said it out loud so that the kid knew that they were taking him seriously. He watched the kid’s chest puff out with pride.
Harold’s cell phone rang. He walked out of the inside of the gas station before putting the phone on speaker.
“Daddy?”
“Phoebe? Baby girl, where are you?”
“Honey, stay calm. We’re going to find you.”
But Phoebe wasn’t talking anymore. An elegant, smooth voice came through the phone.
“Hello, Harold. You have something very precious of mine that I want. I want it back. I’m sure that you can relate.”
18
Bath Kit
Phoebe
Phoebe must have fallen asleep, because she woke up in her bed. She found a bathrobe, new clothes, and a bath kit sitting on a chair in her room. Someone had come in while she was sleeping.
Phoebe tried to calm her nerves. Freaking out over the violation wasn’t going to help her. She went into the shower with the bath kit to try to calm down. She knew that the stakes hadn’t been raised beyond intimidation, though they’d definitely scared her, but she was definitely shaken after the phone call that her captor placed to her father before she fell asleep. Was it yesterday or today? Phoebe couldn’t tell. There weren’t any clocks in her chambers.
She knew that Dad and Andreas were trying to find her, and she tried to take solace in that. They were both competent. They might be coming from opposite sides of the law, but between them, they should be able to find her. Phoebe had hope on her side.
She still cried in the shower, though. Her hormones and the baby made her sob quietly in her shower. What would happen if Odhran didn’t get the Crucible, whatever it was?
The strong vanilla scent of the bath soap was making her nauseous. She turned off the water so she could hurry out of the shower just in time to open her mouth and vomit into the toilet. She spat out the nasty taste in her mouth before going to the sink and rinsing her mouth out with water. She rummaged around under the sink for some mouthwash and used it to get rid of the taste.
19
Boat House
Andreas
Harold got into Andreas’ car without a word, leaving his own car behind. It was a federal vehicle, and there’d be trouble if anybody stole it from the gas station. Andreas’ car, a Tesla, was much faster in any case. Harold kept running his hand through his hair.
Andreas drove them back to the Kaines’ house. They sat there in the driveway.
“You want to tell me what’s going on? I want to know who took my wife.” For once, Andreas wasn’t the one in the hot seat. He wasn’t taking too much pleasure in it, but he didn’t have time for the normal games that he played with Phoebe’s father. “What does this guy want?”
Harold rubbed his face. “Too many people will get hurt.”
Andreas was pretty sure that it was exactly what he’d found when he was researching Harold, but he needed confirmation. Gritting his teeth, Andreas cleared his throat. He didn’t want to respond to Harold. His wife and child were more important than faceless strangers. When he could speak civilly again, he said, “My wife and child could get hurt if you don’t talk, Harold. Tell me what’s happening.”
The men locked eyes for a moment. For the first time, Andreas could see a glimmer of respect in Harold’s eyes.
Harold's hands flew to his head. "We should talk in the boat house. I've kept my wife away from everything that I do for this long. I'm not going to start getting her involved now, even with my daughter at stake."
"Where is it?"
"It's about an acre away from the house."
They got out of Andreas' car and went straight to the boat house at a jog.
"I hope my wife doesn't see us."
Andreas thought that it was strange that Harold was so concerned about appearances at the moment, but he understood the motivation to keep his wife away from the dirt that he got involved in.
"Where do you think that she could be?" They both went inside of the boat house, which had heating and cooling. The two of them took off their coats and put them on the coat rack by the door.
"When I had my people run a search for her, we realized that her cell phone was off of the grid. The last known location is that damned gas station."
"So the trail is cold?"
"I didn't say that."
'But there aren't any other leads?"
Harold stuttered for a minute, then he changed his mind. "That's right."
"What's the precious thing that he wants?"
"I can't talk about it."
"Are you joking? Fuck the fibbies. This is Phoebe we're talking about. Your daughter, you know? What kind of father doesn't ride to his child's safety when he has the key for her release?" Andreas closed his eyes and ended his rant. In a much calmer voice, he asked, "What can you tell me? Any information that you have is going to help on my end."
"What end is that?" Harold looked at Andreas. "I knew that you weren't really a chef."
"Are you even being real right now? You're not really in a position to judge right now. Tell me what Phoebe's kidnapper wants."
"I can't even discuss it."
Andreas punched the wall,
breaking through the drywall.
"I'll pay for a contractor. Listen, even if you don't want to give this thing away, you've got to give me enough information for me to pretend to give it to him. I can trick him into thinking that we're coming to deliver it. We can extract Phoebe by myself, but I need to know where she is. Who is the smug bastard who has her?"
"I need booze." Harold went to the corner of the boat house. He got out two cold bottles of beer with twist-off caps. He threw one at Andreas, who caught it in one hand.
Harold opened up his beer and took a swig.
"I never liked you, you know. Not for a second."
Andreas didn't give a damn. He knew that it stressed Phoebe out, but he couldn't care less about what her old man thought of him.
Harold took another sip of his beer. "I know that you obviously love her. That's why I let you two marry."
Andreas held back a snort. Harold Kaine couldn't have stopped their marriage. Andreas would've taken her away before that ever happened.
"You get some points for loving her. She deserves that, you know? My baby girl deserves the best." Harold drained the rest of the bottle quickly, chugging all the beer down like a frat boy. "I should've stocked something stronger."
"Tell me what I need to know."
"Do you know about the levels of information in the federal government? Sensitive, confidential, secret, top secret, and then levels that I've never even heard of."
"What does that have to do with anything?"
"What I'm about to tell you is sensitive, not confidential exactly. If you had an infinite amount of time, you could piece together the picture from old documents and newspaper articles."
Andreas bit back his retort. He wanted to tell Mr. Kaine to get to the point, but exploding again wouldn't serve any purpose. He could see that Mr. Kaine was very close to telling him what was going on.
The Hitman's Pregnant Bride: A Baby Romance Page 5
