by Penny Reid
Chapter Thirty
Weinberger Kidnapping: One-month-old Peter Weinberger was kidnapped from his suburban home in Long Island on July 4, 1956. The kidnapping resulted in new legislation—signed by President Eisenhower—that reduced the FBI’s waiting period in kidnapping cases from 7 days to 24 hours.
—FBI.gov
**Kat**
Thank God for knitting.
And knitters.
And yarn.
I was at the end of my tether, and everything was unraveling (no pun intended).
At some point over the last hour, Ashley had forced my work-in-progress into my hands and said, “Knit.”
It was a scarf, a simple pattern, no counting or stitch markers required. The yarn was variegated, so the beauty of the finished object would be in the array of colors, not in the intricacy of the pattern.
I knitted. As I knitted, my brain quieted, breathing became easier, and my thoughts began to focus on plotting my revenge.
Wait. Sorry.
I’m getting ahead of myself.
Let me back up.
I spent the three hours waiting for my friends to arrive by calling my personal banker and requesting he prepare a wire transfer, dated today, for three million dollars. Then I combed through Caravel’s financial records, division financial reports, and efficacy findings for in-progress R&D projects.
I discovered that Caleb had been systematically shutting down projects at Caravel, culling scientists and staff, and then supporting those projects privately through his venture capital firm. He’d been stealing research from Caravel and siphoning it into his own companies for two years.
Irate didn’t begin to describe how I felt.
I wasn’t going to tweeze his body hair, that would be too good for him. I was going to cover him with honey and put him in a box of fire ants.
Quinn texted me halfway through the flight with both good news and bad news.
The good news: they knew where Dan was being held. They also knew that Seamus’s men had abducted him.
The bad news: Seamus and Caleb were working together.
According to Quinn, camera footage in the parking garage of Caravel headquarters showed four men taking Dan and forcing him into the back of a black SUV. He’d tried to escape at one point, but he’d been overpowered by one of the men who, according to Alex, looked like a giant.
Quinn recognized the guys in the video as belonging to Seamus’s crew. Quinn also said they hadn’t knocked Dan out, which went a long way to alleviating my fears about the kidnappers reinjuring or aggravating his recent concussion.
Alex had tracked the SUV as far as the warehouse district, and then he’d lost it. However, tracking the vehicle had become a moot point, as the team following Caleb for over a week alerted Quinn to a meeting between my cousin and Seamus.
The security team followed Caleb and Seamus into the warehouse district, where—presumably—Dan was being held.
When Quinn’s plane finally landed and everyone was gathered in Quinn and Janie’s suite at the hotel, we were all in agreement that Seamus wouldn’t seriously hurt Dan. Therefore, Fiona had me make the proof of life call.
And so, I did.
It had been terrifying and overwhelming and truncated. Immediately afterward, Seamus—or Caleb—sent a new text:
Unknown #: You have nineteen hours for the $3mil to transfer into this account. Text this number when you have done as instructed. Once we confirm the money has been received, we will tell you where to find your husband. If you alert the authorities or take any action other than as instructed, you will never see your husband again.
“This is bullshit.” Quinn growled at the phone. “Standard kidnapping procedure in the US uses an honest broker intermediary to deliver the money.”
Wally, clearly agitated by Quinn’s mood, let out a bark. I reached out to him and scratched his ears, tears welling behind my eyes. I forced them back.
“Standard kidnapping procedure?” Elizabeth, who was sitting with me, lifted an eyebrow at Quinn.
Nico of all people responded, “Yes. And usually the honest broker is provided by the insurance company managing the K&R insurance policy.”
“What?” Elizabeth squinted at her husband like he was speaking Greek.
“K&R is Kidnapping and Ransom,” Quinn said flatly. “Most people worth over a certain amount have a K&R insurance policy in the US. The insurance company typically provides the honest broker intermediary at the time of exchange. In foreign ransom cases,” his gazed flickered to Greg, “it’s completely different.”
“Maybe let’s get back to Dan instead of standard operating procedure for kidnappers,” Greg suggested dryly, sending Quinn a pointed look. “What’s the plan?”
Everyone looked at me, but I couldn’t speak.
My lungs on fire, my brain a storm of panic and doubt, I retreated into myself, my imagination holding my words hostage with worst-case scenarios.
I needed him safe. I needed to see him again so I could . . . so I could . . . damn it.
“Give her a minute.” Elizabeth wrapped an arm around my shoulders, pulling me into a hug. Wally whined, jumping up on the couch like he wanted to get on my lap.
That’s when Ashley ransacked my purse and handed me the knitting. I always carried knitting. Always.
Ten minutes later, Wally at my feet, my mind was clearer, now absorbed in plotting revenge schemes against my cousin.
And that brings us to the present.
“Are you ready to review options?”
I glanced up from my project and found Alex crouching in front of me, petting Wally. His blue eyes were gentle and sympathetic. Elizabeth was on one side of me, Sandra was on the other, and they were sitting very close, as though to provide a warm, protective cocoon of support.
“I am.” I nodded. “I am ready to discuss options.”
I felt Sandra’s hand on my shoulder, drawing my attention to her. “When you’re finished discussing options, we should spend some time commiserating.”
Commiserating was Sandra’s code word for please allow me to help you deal with your feelings.
“Sounds good,” I said, and I meant it. I had so many thoughts, fears, and feelings about what was happening, I felt like—any minute—I would shatter. “Commiseration sounds good.”
But first, Dan.
And then, revenge.
Her hand dropped away from my shoulder and I stood. Wally also stood, as did Alex. After a moment’s hesitation, he offered me his elbow.
I glanced between him and his arm, not quite sure what to make of the gesture.
“Here,” he said, giving me a pained expression, making me think he was a little embarrassed. “Obviously, you can walk on your own. But I thought you might want someone to lean on. I know I would if I were you.”
I returned his smile with a grateful one and slipped my hand into the crook of his arm. “Thanks, Alex.”
“You’re welcome, Kat,” he said, his deep voice soothing.
He walked me over to where Quinn, Fiona, and Greg—who was holding his sleeping, infant daughter—were gathered around the high countertop of the suite’s wet bar, speaking in hushed tones. Wally followed behind, bumping my leg with his nose every few steps. When they saw us approach, they all straightened and waited for us to join them.
Fiona studied me, a concerned expression pulling her eyebrows together. “I’m not going to ask if you’re okay, because I know something of what you’re feeling. Instead, we’re going to jump right to the point, okay?”
I nodded. “Yes. Please.”
Gathering a deep breath, she began, “Here are the options: Quinn’s team goes into the warehouse and tries to extract Dan.”
“No.” I ignored the frustrated scowl on Quinn’s face and shook my head vehemently. “I can’t take the risk that he’d be hurt in the cross fire. Next option.”
“We contact the police,”—Fiona looked to Quinn, who seemed to tense even further—“and bring them up
to speed, relying on their resources to extract Dan.”
“No.” I rejected that plan as well. “For the same reason as before, plus Dan said he’s related to several people on the force. We don’t need this turning into a circus.”
“I agree with Kat on this one.” Quinn lifted his chin towards me. “He is related to a lot of guys here. However, our goal is to get Dan back safely, as soon as possible. The police’s goal will be to get Dan back, but they’ll also be focused on capturing those responsible. As far as I’m concerned, capturing Seamus and Caleb is low priority to Dan’s safety.”
“Agreed,” everyone said in unison.
“But at some point,” Quinn addressed this comment to me, “we’ll need to call the police, even if we only do it once Dan is safe.”
“Okay. Fine,” I agreed, then to Fiona, I said, “Next option?”
“You pay the ransom,” Fiona sounded resigned, “and trust Seamus to let him go.”
“But it’s not just up to Seamus, is it?” I knew my voice was high and tight, belying the panic I felt, but I didn’t care how I sounded. “Caleb and Seamus are working together. Seamus wants the money, but what does Caleb want?”
“What if you don’t pay the ransom?” Greg asked. “You could use the financial records from Caleb’s venture capital firm to force him to cooperate.”
“I thought you said self-dealing isn’t criminal.” I glanced between Fiona and Greg.
“I’m not a lawyer. I only know what I’ve read in the news about CEOs and self-dealing, but in some cases it can be,” Greg explained gently.
“Like insider trading?” Alex asked.
“Actually, no. In the US, insider trading—where a company’s officers and directors buy or sell stock with insider knowledge—isn’t illegal as long as they follow reporting rules to the SEC. But in all cases, if shareholders are impacted by the self-dealing, the shareholders can file a lawsuit. You could threaten a shareholder lawsuit for fraud as leverage, to force him to release Dan unharmed. He’d definitely be fired as CEO of Caravel.”
“What if we did both?” Fiona looked to me. “What if you approach Caleb and threaten a lawsuit, which would force him to back off, and also pay the ransom? Seamus should be happy with the payout, and Caleb’s hands will be tied.”
“I can send Caleb images of the bank statements.” Alex turned to me. “You don’t even have to talk to him.”
“So we blackmail Caleb and bribe Seamus in order to force them to release someone they’re holding hostage. Great.” Quinn’s voice held not a small amount of sarcasm. “This is so fucking backwards.”
“Three million dollars.” Greg’s statement brought my gaze to him. “Do you have three million in liquid assets on hand?”
I nodded. “Yes. I have more than that locally. I’ve already called my banker and told him to prepare the wire transfer. He has the account number, he just needs me to make the call.”
Fiona looked at Alex, Alex looked at Greg, Greg looked at Quinn.
And Quinn looked at me. “I’ll go in with a team,” he offered. “We know where he is, I can get him out.”
I shook my head before he’d finished speaking. “No. Absolutely not. You and Janie just had a baby. Think of Desmond. And, I’m sorry, but I can’t take the risk that Dan would get shot or killed or—” my voice failed me again and I choked on a sob, covering my mouth with my hand as the worst-case scenario flashed vividly through my mind.
Alex turned me to him, wrapping me in a tight hug. Perhaps I was beyond caring; or perhaps I was losing my mind; or perhaps being with Dan over these last weeks had fundamentally changed me, because I held on to Alex.
My instinct wasn’t to shrink from his support, but rather to cling to it.
Alex sent Caleb the images along with a message demanding that he release Dan or else the board would find out about his self-dealing.
I called my banker and had the three million dollars transferred.
Fiona, using my phone, messaged the kidnappers and let them know the money had been sent.
Alex rigged a device to my cell so that any call received would be recorded and traced.
Nico ordered room service for everyone and handed me a plate of cheese when it arrived. <3 Nico <3
And then we waited.
We waited in near silence.
It was very weird.
Some of us knit. Some of us held babies. Some of us changed baby diapers. Picking up on the mood, Wally did a lot of huffing and pacing. Alex and Drew took Wally on a walk. Lots of people gave me hugs. I couldn’t stop imagining the worst. No matter what I did or how I endeavored to distract myself, my brain kept going back there, showing me images of everything that could possibly go wrong.
And then, almost five hours after Alex had sent the images to Caleb, my cousin called me. Taking a deep breath, I accepted the call, putting him on speaker so everyone could hear.
“You think you’re very clever.”
I hadn’t spoken more than ten words directly to Caleb in over three years. My instinct was to stay silent. But I couldn’t. Not this time.
“Why are you calling me?” I asked.
“You know why.” He was being evasive, vague, which was extremely out of character for my cousin. I assumed that meant he knew he was being recorded.
“Are you calling to negotiate?” I asked.
“Have you made the payment?”
That gave me pause. I looked at Quinn and Fiona; they were also confused.
“Didn’t you receive my text message?” I asked, and then promptly muted our side of the call, whispering to the group, “Why doesn’t Caleb know I’ve made the ransom payment? If he and Seamus are working together, wouldn’t he already know?”
Quinn’s phone buzzed and, dazed, he pulled it out of his pocket, frowning at his screen. He flinched back, like he was surprised, and huffed a laugh, muttering, “Unfuckingbelievable.”
Meanwhile, Caleb was monologuing. “You sent no text. Stalling and lying will not yield the results you want, nor will your attempts at blackmail. Where are you going to tell people you found these documents? How are you going to explain accessing protected information? You can’t. Being in possession of these documents means you’ve done something illegal. These are inadmissible because they were obtained illegally, you stupid cunt.” His voice became a shout, “Soon you’ll be locked up, where you belong. I’m calling your bluff. I’m—”
We didn’t get to find out what Caleb was about to say because Quinn hung up on him.
“Shitbag.” Quinn issued my phone an irritated look. Then, turning a miniscule smile on the rest of us—which, for Quinn, was a huge grin—he said, “Dan’s safe.”
I gaped at him. We all gaped at him.
“What?” someone said. It might have been me.
“Dan’s safe.” Quinn lifted his voice so that everyone—even Drew and Ashley, and Nico and Elizabeth in the living room—could hear. “Once the money hit Seamus’s bank account, Seamus’s guys brought Dan back here, dropped him off in Kat’s penthouse, and called Stan. Stan is with Dan now, up in your suite.”
What?
I continued to gape at him.
Quinn, meanwhile, was holding his phone to his ear, listening to something. “Seamus also sent a recording . . .”
Elizabeth walked over to me and pulled me into a hug while Nico stood on my left, rubbing my back. “Thank God he’s okay. Do you want me to walk you up there?”
“We’re all going.” Quinn—still holding his phone to his ear—was already hustling to the exit, Wally at his heels; the dog’s tail wagged like he knew what had just happened.
My feet were rooted, too afraid to move. I couldn’t believe it. I couldn’t allow myself to believe it was over.
Please be real.
What if I were imagining this? If I moved, then the illusion might disappear. Dan might still be in danger.
Please. Please be real.
Quinn opened the door and then paused, turning, hol
ding it open with a booted foot and motioning for me to hurry. “Kat,” he said sharply, “Let’s go.”
Chapter Thirty-One
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—Amazon dot com product page for Shibari 100% Natural Hemp Rope
**Dan**
Just use a knife.” I rolled my eyes.
“I don’t have a knife.” Stan was squinting at the rope binding my feet to the bed, his tongue poking out between his lips on one side while he concentrated on trying to—unsuccessfully—untie the knot.
The problem was, Ricky was a fisherman’s son. He knew how to tie a real wizdinger of a knot.
He and Conner had placed me on the bed, already tied up, and then used more rope to bind my legs and hands to the base of the bed frame in an intricate knot contraption.
“How did they get you into the hotel and up here without anyone seeing?” Stan sounded distracted.
“You remember Ricky? Well, his sister works here.”
“Oh yeah. She was nice.”
“She probably doesn’t work here anymore, after this afternoon. She’s probably long gone. They brought me up in one of those big, stupid laundry carts, covered me with sheets.”
“You were tied up the whole time?”
“Yeah. And gagged and blindfolded, like you found me when you got here.” I flexed and stretched my jaw, knowing I would never take breathing for granted again.
Stan huffed, straightening from the knot. “I can’t undo this. I don’t even understand how this kind of knot is possible. It’s witchcraft.”
“Then use a fucking knife.”
He scratched his head. “I think I’ll use a knife. I’ll be right back.”
At just that moment, I heard the penthouse door open, followed by the sounds of people and footsteps. My heart jumped against my ribs and I craned my neck to see.
