The Ransom (The Munro Family Series Book 7)

by Chris Taylor

  “W-what’s the matter? What are you doing?” She hated that her voice betrayed the depth of her fear, but she was powerless to prevent it.

  “You’re coming with me. Your father’s taking way too long to get here. It’s time I gave him a little more incentive to hand over the money before the pigs arrive.”

  “B-but you gave him until midnight.” She glanced at the clock on the wall. “It’s only five o’clock. There are hours until the deadline. It takes time to get that kind of money together.”

  “Yeah, well, the plan has changed. The pigs have got wind of our little exchange. He needs to get here within the hour or it will be bye-bye to you, sweet Zara.” He cocked the gun. The sound of it crashed into her head. Her heart stopped.

  He laughed uproariously at her reaction and slowly lowered the weapon. “I’m not going to shoot you just yet, you stupid bitch. I told you he has an hour.”

  He tucked the gun back into his belt and then reached for her. She shied away from him, but there was nowhere she could go. Taking her roughly by the arm, he dragged her off the couch.

  “Lift your arms,” he ordered and she hurried to obey.

  In one swift movement, he grabbed her dress and pulled it over her head. A moment later, he’d unsnapped her bra and had forced her out of her panties. She stood naked and exposed before him and burned with shame and humiliation. During every second of the torture, the only thing she could think of was what he was going to do with her.

  It didn’t take long to find out.

  Pulling out a length of twine from the back pocket of his jeans, he made short work of once again securing her hands behind her. Prodding her forward with the gun, he opened the door that led out into the main room. Zara trembled all over and tears coursed down her cheeks, but she forced her feet to move. He dragged her to a concrete pylon that stood in the middle of the room.

  Catcalls clanged in her ears, amid lewd actions and appreciative glances from the men who filled the room. A length of rope materialized and Draco tightened it around her waist and then affixed it to the concrete pylon.

  Painfully aware of her nakedness, Zara was helpless to cover herself from the lascivious glances of the burgeoning crowd of Redbacks. The only protection at her disposal was her hair and she shook her head in desperation, pathetically grateful when the long, thick curtain fell and covered what it could. Word seemed to have spread quickly that there was something happening at the clubhouse. Men were standing shoulder to shoulder from the bar at the back, all the way to the front door.

  Zara shivered, but it wasn’t from the cold. In fact, the room was uncomfortably warm with the mass of men bulked up from studded leather jackets and infinite hours in the gym. Desperation ate away at her. She’d gone past the point of feeling anything more than a cold sense of detachment, even when one of Draco’s underlings looked her way, or worse, reached over to touch her.

  Draco appeared before her, his phone in his hand. He held it up in front of her and snapped off a few quick shots. She started in surprise and anger when she realized he was photographing her.

  “How dare you!” she hissed, forgetting for a moment her determination to remain removed from her situation. “You have no right to do that. When I get out of here, I’ll make it my mission to sue you for everything you have. If even a hint of those photos turn up anywhere, you’ll regret you were ever born.”

  Draco merely laughed at her, his shoulders shaking with his mirth. “Oh, you’re a little spitfire. You’re trussed up like a turkey, naked as the day you were born, and you have the guts to threaten me? I love it.”

  His expression suddenly turned serious, the speed of it making her gasp. “These pictures are going to your father, sweet Zara. I told you he needed a little incentive. I’m going to tell him that unless he gets here within the hour, I’m going to let my men have a go at you. I’m sure that will make him come running. You want to hope so, anyway.”

  Tears pricked her eyes, but she blinked them away. She refused to give in to his intimidation. She clenched her jaw and cursed under her breath. To show weakness before such a crowd would be the end of her. Where, oh where was her father? Where, oh where was Lane? Had everyone she knew and loved abandoned her?

  She refused to believe it. Lane, maybe. Her father, never. He was frantically doing what he could to get the ransom money together. She was sure of it. Any minute, he’d arrive and hand it over and she’d be free to go on her way.

  She clung to the fantasy, knowing she had no choice but to believe in it. To think otherwise, even for an instant, would be devastating. She would spiral into a place so dark, she’d likely never escape from it.

  The bulk of a large man stepped close, blocking her view of the door. She looked up and tensed. The man Draco had called Toothpick smiled at her and leaned forward. He cupped one of her bare breasts, as if testing its weight, then his thumb scraped over her nipple. He chuckled when it tightened.

  “Looks like she’s enjoying that, Toothpick,” Draco chuckled and snapped off a couple more pictures.

  Zara cursed her body’s reflexive physical reaction. She held Draco’s gaze, trying to put as much defiance as she could into her hard stare, telling him with her eyes how much she hated this, hated him.

  “Who’d have thought your father would take so damned long to find a million bucks,” he mused. “The way Allison spoke, I expected him here hours ago. I’m beginning to wonder if you’re as important to him as she led me to believe.” His face darkened. “If that slut has lied to me…”

  Shock at his words paralyzed her. She couldn’t believe what she’d heard. Had her stepmother been involved with her abduction? It couldn’t be true. Allison had never warmed to her, but surely the woman hadn’t wished her harm—or actively encouraged it?

  Zara shook her head in confusion. She refused to believe it was true. Draco was messing with her mind, that’s all it was. It was all just part of his game. She was sure of it. She clung to the thought with a vengeance.

  Despair darkened the edges of her vision and she squeezed her eyes tight in an effort to dispel it. She had to stay positive. She had to believe someone was looking for her. Lane. Her father. Anyone.

  Draco nudged Toothpick out of the way and slid his hand across her taut belly. A moment later, his fingers plunged into the curls between her legs. She cried out in shock and distress, her heart hammering out of her chest. The tears she’d tried so hard to keep at bay crowded her eyes and spilled over. Hot and salty, they coursed down her cheeks.

  Draco looked up at her and smiled.

  CHAPTER THIRTY-SEVEN

  Wednesday, January 31, 5:23 p.m.

  Lane peered through the dusty window of the clubhouse from his perch high up a ladder that leaned against the back wall of the shed that housed the Redbacks. Through the dirt and grime that lined the glass and the late afternoon dimness, he counted at least a hundred bikers.

  He’d expected the building to be guarded and he hadn’t been disappointed. Half that number again had pulled the security detail, but they’d been disposed of quietly and efficiently by members of his handpicked team, along with a dozen savage guard dogs.

  Knowing what was at stake and that the bikers wouldn’t hesitate to use lethal force, Lane had insisted on putting together a team of the best. It had taken longer to assemble and he’d chafed at every minute of the delay, but in the end, it had been a wise decision and one he was eminently grateful for now.

  His gaze swept over the crowded room again. He was sure she was inside. If nothing else, the sheer numbers in the clubhouse was testament to something unusual. It was barely five-thirty on a Wednesday afternoon. Way too early for such an impressive display of numbers.

  After another sweep of the building, he noticed many of the men had congregated around a concrete pylon that stood in the middle of the room. Men jostled each other and craned their necks. The crowd moved and shifted and then he saw her.

  Lane gasped and then swore. Anger exploded inside him.
His heart hammered and blood pulsed in his ears. His men waited in the shadows for his go ahead, but he was momentarily stunned into silence.

  Naked and bound to the pylon, she stood proud and defiant. With her head held high she endured the touch of one man after another. Rage and helplessness flooded through him and he viciously thrust them aside. Now wasn’t the time to lose control. What was required was cold, calm calculation. He could only imagine the cache of weapons contained within the walls of the clubhouse. He couldn’t afford to get it wrong.

  Scaling down the wall, he landed back on the ground with a soft thud and crept back to where his men waited, crouching low in the shadows.

  “She’s in there,” he said.

  Jett’s eyes went wide. “You saw her?”

  He swallowed his anger. “Yes.”

  Jett nodded, his face grim. “Okay, what next?”

  Lane indicated for the men to gather close and went through the plan they’d put together in the squad room, in the event they located her. Every officer was equipped with an ear piece, but Lane wanted to make sure they knew what to do. A mistake by any of them could be fatal.

  He listened to their questions as best as he could over the pounding of his heart and answered them in halting sentences. Jett shot him a curious look, but he ignored it and did his best to pull himself together.

  “Okay, is everyone ready?”

  His question was met with a round of nods and murmurs of agreement. With a thumbs-up, Lane stood and watched while half of his team left to take up positions at the front of the building. He crouched low at the rear, giving everyone time to get into place.

  With shields held high, tear gas cylinders in hand and weapons at the ready, he counted down the seconds until, as one, they charged the building.

  * * *

  Tears coursed freely down Zara’s cheeks. She’d given up on bravery long ago. It had deserted her the moment Draco had violated her body. It wouldn’t be long before the terror of her situation became a reality. She’d given up hope of being rescued and now just prayed that the next few hours would pass without pain.

  Draco forced her legs apart with his jean-clad thigh and chuckled when she stood firm.

  “Relax, you silly bitch. I’m gonna fuck you whether you’re willing or not. You might as well enjoy it.”

  Zara cringed at his foul language and at the images his words evoked. She was beyond fear. Beyond feeling. Beyond hope.

  A shout from behind her caught Draco’s attention. More shouts and then the sound of gunfire. Zara screamed, terrified of being caught in the middle of something she had no way of escaping. An acrid smell filled the air. Seconds later, her eyes were on fire.

  The men around her fell back, screaming and stumbling and clawing at their eyes. Tears blinded her. Another gunshot rang out.

  And then she heard it. She heard him.

  “Zara! Oh, Christ! Thank God you’re all right. Oh, fuck. I’m sorry. I’m so sorry. Let me get you out of here.”

  “Lane.” She breathed his name through the cloud of smoke and fumes and tear gas, hardly daring to believe he was real. The scene in the clubhouse was one of noise and chaos, the world around her ghostly and surreal.

  The rope around her belly loosened and fell away. Next were the bindings around her wrists. Circulation rushed to her fingertips and she gasped and cried out, chafing at her hands.

  “I’m sorry, sweetheart. I bet that hurts like hell. Hold on to me, as tightly as you can. I’m going to get you out of here.”

  Zara clung to the back of his shirt, pressing herself against him and doing her best to ignore the fire in her hands, her arms, her eyes. She didn’t care. In fact, she welcomed the pain, opened her arms and embraced it. She could take the pain if it meant freedom. With Lane.

  CHAPTER THIRTY-EIGHT

  Wednesday, January 31, 10:38 p.m.

  Despite the fact Zara had taken up the superintendent’s offer of a shower and had donned clean prison garb, she still ached all over.

  “Will that be all, Superintendent Collins? It’s been a long time since I’ve seen my bed and I’m utterly exhausted,” Zara said quietly, fatigue weighing her down.

  “Perhaps Ms Dowton can come back in the morning and answer any outstanding questions then?” Lane suggested, looking at his boss.

  Zara shot Lane a look of gratitude and swallowed a sigh of relief when the superintendent nodded his agreement.

  “Of course, Ms Dowton. I’m sure that will be fine. You’ve been through a terrible ordeal. I’m sorry you’ve had to relive it all by giving us a statement, but you’ll be pleased to know you’ve provided us enough with information to charge Jovanovic and a number of his cohorts with several serious charges. They won’t be going anywhere for a very long time.”

  Zara nodded in acknowledgement. “Thank you, Superintendent. A lifetime wouldn’t be long enough, but I’ll be happy for every year they get behind bars. I hope Jovanovic is never again in a position where he can inflict so much terror upon another person.”

  Lane’s expression darkened at Zara’s words and she couldn’t help the warmth that surged through her, knowing that he cared. He cared. She hoped he cared enough to give the two of them a chance.

  She cleared her throat and looked back to Lane’s boss. “Has anyone called my father? Does he know that I’m all right?”

  Michael frowned a little and looked across at Lane who shrugged.

  “I’m sorry, sir. I’ve been with Zara since we found her. I’m not sure if anyone else has found the time to notify the AG. I-I’ll get onto it right away.” He pushed away from the interview table where the three of them were seated. Zara reached out and took hold of his arm to stall him.

  “It’s all right. I think I’d rather do it myself. Now that I’ve…recovered, I’d like to be the one to tell him everything’s okay.”

  Lane stared down at her, his eyes shadowed with concern. “Are you sure? I can easily get one of the AFP boys to contact him. They can even drop around and tell him in person, if you’d rather.”

  She shook her head. “No, no. It’s fine. He’ll be so worried. He needs to be told. I’d rather do it now.” She looked around for her phone and remembered that it had been lost, along with her handbag when Draco ambushed her outside her car. Her heart beat fast at the memory. She looked at Lane and tried to speak, but couldn’t make her lips work.

  He frowned and squatted beside her, angling his body toward her. “What is it, Zara? What happened? You look like you’ve seen a ghost.”

  She bit her lip against the sudden surge of tears and tried to get herself back under control. “I-I… My phone. I don’t have it. I lost it when—” The recollection of Draco grabbing her crashed through her mind and with it, the overwhelming feelings of terror. She closed her eyes and bit back a sob, but it burst right through her defenses. Tears coursed down her cheeks. She guessed it was delayed shock, now that the trauma was finally over.

  Lane jumped to his feet and drew her into his arms. She stood and clung to him in mindless panic and willed the memories to subside. She barely registered when the door to the interview room opened and closed behind the superintendent, leaving her alone with Lane.

  His arms tightened around her, holding her close against his chest. “It’s okay, sweetheart. It’s okay. You’ve been through a terrible ordeal. Let it out. I’m here for you. I’m never going to let anyone hurt you again.”

  His soothing words calmed her fears and gradually her sobs quieted. She listened to the steady thump of his heart beneath her ear and was reassured by the strength of it. He was so good and strong and kind. He was everything she’d ever dreamed. She’d known him less than a week and yet she’d fallen head-over-heels in love with him. It was too bad she didn’t know if he’d ever feel the same way.

  The thought sobered her and brought her back down to reality with a thud. She pulled out of his arms and returned to her seat, ignoring his look of bewilderment.

  She kept her gaze lowered. �
��I-I’d like to borrow your phone, if that’s okay? I need to call my father.”

  “Of course,” he muttered and handed it over.

  She felt the weight of his concern. Forcing a deep breath between her clenched teeth, she dialed her father’s number.

  The phone rang out and eventually went through to his voicemail. She left a message, trying to sound as normal as possible when she assured him she’d been rescued by the police and was safe. She ended the call and handed the phone back to Lane with a soft sigh.

  “Would you like me to take you home?” Lane asked, his voice low.

  Zara thought of her father. He’d be relieved she was all right. He’d want to see her, to reassure himself she’d come through the ordeal unharmed. Her thoughts then turned to her stepmother and renewed shock and anger poured through her veins. According to Draco, it had been Allison who’d suggested he abduct Zara. She couldn’t begin to imagine what kind of person could exhibit such malevolence and she couldn’t imagine bringing herself to live under the same roof with someone who could.

  She shook her head and looked at Lane, imploring him to understand. “I don’t want to go home.”

  He stared at her. The silence stretched between them. And then he nodded. Once.

  “All right. I’ll take you home with me.”

  Relief mixed with nerves surged through her. She glanced up at him and just as quickly, looked away.

  As if sensing her uncertainty, Lane spoke quietly again.

  “I have a spare room. You’re welcome to use it. It’s late. You must be exhausted.”

  Zara’s smile was grateful. “Yes, you’re right. I’m so tired I can barely keep my eyes open.”

  “Then let’s get out of here.”

  * * *

  As much as Zara yearned for sleep, her body was too wired to relax. She kept stealing little glances across at Lane where he sat beside her, his gaze fixed on the road ahead. The tension in his jaw and the set of his head and shoulders was a reflection of how she felt. Flashbacks to the hours she’d spent a prisoner of the Redbacks kept replaying in her head and she could only guess Lane was also reflecting upon her ordeal.