The kidnapper rattled off an address and a time. “…come alone, with a plain black cabin bag of money.”
Nicholas shook his head, so I said, “I’m not risking my own life. I’m bringing a bodyguard.”
“No police.” So he wasn’t disagreeing with Nicholas coming.
“This isn’t about justice,” I said to the man, hoping to reassure him. “My husband defaulted on his legitimate obligation to you. He owes you money, and if fifty million will finalize that transaction, then I want to settle his debt. This is purely business, not a criminal activity, as far as I’m concerned.”
I had no idea where the words were coming from or my poise in saying them, but I wanted to reframe the situation into one I could control. This was the only way I knew how.
“On that basis,” I added, “I expect my husband to be completely unharmed. If he has suffered any damage that requires medical treatment, I’ll be subtracting those costs from your bill. The initial payment will be ten million when you return him to me, then when I’ve ascertained that he’s unharmed, I’ll pay the rest. You’ll have my sureties on that commitment along with the cash.”
Nicholas frowned, possibly unhappy with my aggressive negotiation tactics, but I just gripped the phone tighter. Confidence had won me many a battle in the past. I trusted in it now.
“You’re one cold bitch,” the gruff man allowed, then after another few seconds of silence he said, “You can get ten million by tomorrow, no cops?”
“I can, and I’ll have the balance to you—minus any medical deductions—within thirty days.”
“Fuck me.” He laughed, a horrible evil sound. “Maybe I didn’t ask enough.”
“No, that would be the limit of our joint assets,” I said smoothly. “If you ask for more than that, I will have to go to the police for help.”
Deathly silence followed but I waited him out, breathing evenly, staring into Nicholas’s eyes, and feeling his presence steady me. When nothing more was said, Nicholas nodded at the phone, as if he wanted me to speak, but I shook my head.
Finally, finally, the gruff voice came back. “I don’t like bum boys.”
Tendrils of fear crept up my spine at the thought that they might have already hurt Marcus, but I sucked in a slow, calming breath and said, “Then we’re even, because I don’t like kidnappers, but as a party to this transaction I’m prepared to put that aside to finalize my husband’s commitment to you. That would be the professional thing to do.”
The silence that followed that statement was profound, and I wondered if I’d gone too far. In front of me, Nicholas swallowed and the room was so quiet I heard the sound. Some instinct made me reach out my free hand and he grabbed it. We stared at each other as we waited.
“Tomorrow. Ten million.”
The call ended.
Nicholas let me go to take the phone off me, noting the details he could from the call by photographing them with his own phone. He’d barely done that when the home phone beside me started ringing.
I reached for it but he put a hand out to stop me and grabbed it first. “Aston,” he said shortly, then, “Yes, I recorded it. Did you get it?” He stood, and because it was a hands-free phone he could walk away, which he did, coming to a stop at the door with his back to me, speaking too quietly for me to hear.
My bedside lamp illuminated enough of the room for me to see his lower half clearly—the denim clinging to his perfectly rounded backside and muscular thighs, the length of his legs which were slightly apart. His black vest was shadowed and his head wasn’t distinct but I saw when he shook it, as though silently arguing with the caller, who I assumed must be the police.
I tried not to think about what they might want, about Marcus’s safety, about losing everything I owned. Instead, I just breathed. I didn’t put on my wrap, or run my fingers through my hair, or care about my lack of makeup. Those things felt irrelevant now. Marcus was kidnapped. I couldn’t hide in denial anymore.
At last, after Nicholas had made another call on his own cellphone, he came back to me, but instead of waiting for me to stand, he crouched in front of me again, and that told me more clearly than words that the situation was bad. It was the sort of thing emergency workers did, getting down to your level. I swallowed a sick sense of premonition and said, “How many hours do I have to get the cash?”
“We’re not doing that, Louella.” His tone and the use of my Christian name was so patronizing it made my teeth hurt.
I wanted to snap I’m not a child. You don’t need to placate me. But clearly he did.
“What did the police suggest?”
He frowned again, clearly not liking the word suggest, but I wasn’t agreeing to anything yet. “An undercover officer will dress like you and make the drop.”
Fear and a horrible feeling of being overwhelmed rose in my throat but I battered it back down. “I made a commitment—”
“I’m not letting you anywhere near them.”
The throbbing was back, overlaying my swirling emotions, and it clouded my mind, right when I needed to concentrate. So it was a struggle to work out what was important. Finally, I asked, “The police, is their priority to recover Marcus unharmed, or to catch the kidnappers?”
Nicholas gazed at me steadily for almost a minute before he said, “They can’t guarantee that he’s unharmed, even at this point, let alone later when they try to rescue him.”
Hearing him say that forced my mind to acknowledge it as real. Marcus was probably hurt already. The larger-than-life genial husband I’d lived with for a decade—who’d never even been ill—was probably injured, possibly dead.
I swallowed sickly and looked away.
The overdose had been bad enough, but I’d seen Jill in hospital after she’d accidentally overdosed on alcohol. She’d stayed with me here that night, and had recovered almost immediately. I’d told myself Marcus’s problem was psychological and that he’d bounce back.
But to imagine him physically harmed…
Like the boy you whipped.
My stomach clenched on itself then and nausea rose in my throat. I jumped up blindly to push past Nicholas and run to my bathroom where I threw up again and again, retching pitifully when there was nothing left in my stomach. By the end of it I felt weak and shaky as I rinsed and spat and then gave my teeth a feeble brush.
Nicholas had closed the bathroom door behind me to give me privacy, and as I walked back into my bedroom and saw him waiting patiently, I felt grateful for that. Despite the times I’d felt uncomfortable with the…closeness that had developed between us, he clearly still respected my sensibilities enough to know what I needed.
I picked up my wrap and put it on over my nightgown, tying the belt as I spoke. “I’m sorry about that.”
He shook his head. “Under the circumstances—”
“I expect more of myself.” I straightened my shoulders. “Now tell me your assessment of the police plan. Will it be successful?”
“You bought us time with your negotiation,” he said, as if I’d been playing a game with people who could kill Marcus whenever they wanted to. “That was clever.”
I nodded for him to go on. There was no value in explaining that it hadn’t been a ruse to me. I’d fully intended to enact it.
“But it would be foolish to involve you in the handover. Two captives are worth more than one,” he explained. “So we can’t risk them grabbing you as well, and ransoming you both to Adele.”
Despite my determination to be calm, I felt my adrenalin jump. The thought of capture had never occurred to me. “Is Adele safe?”
“In Paris, for sure. If you ring her tonight to tell her what’s happening, make sure she stays there until this operation is finalized. In fact, you’d be safer if you flew over to stay with her yourself.”
I shook my head, adamant. “I want to be here when they recover Marcus.” Somehow, in my own mind, his situation had become my responsibility. A good wife would have pushed him away six year ago, to fin
d what he needed out of life. I’d selfishly restricted him and I was determined to pay for my mistake.
Nicholas said nothing for a moment, and in that time I saw his bodyguard mask go up, “You’ve stopped calling him your ex-husband. You always correct people, but in the last few hours you’ve stopped.”
Had I? I tried to recover by saying, “I wanted the kidnappers to know he was important—”
“Is he? Important to you? Do you love him?” The mask slipped further and his earlier disturbance was back. I could see his quickened breathing, his slightly narrowed eyes. He wanted me to deny what he’d said, but I nodded.
I did love Marcus for all the caring gestures he’d made, his compliments, and the way he’d doted on me and been such a genial host, such a caring husband. Somehow I’d compartmentalized the sex. It was locked away in the ugly box in my mind. So when I thought of him, especially now that he was vulnerable, it was with affection, and yes, love.
That wasn’t what Nicholas was asking—he wanted to know if I desired Marcus and wished he was heterosexual so he could be my husband—but that question was inappropriate and we both knew it.
The attraction between us was inappropriate, and I suddenly wondered if I’d slipped over into some sort of psychological disorder. Not Stockholm syndrome, but wasn’t there something at play between women and their bodyguards?
I was in an extremely vulnerable position myself, emotionally and physically, if what he’d said about capture was to be believed. The only way I could imagine getting myself through this was to protect myself, and that started with solidifying my boundaries.
“I do love my ex-husband,” I stately clearly, “And I’m determined to put everything else out of my mind while I work toward his release. His safety is my priority, and I’d like to focus on the details of how that’s to be achieved.” I gave Nicholas my best steely glare. “Give me a few minutes to dress and I’ll meet you in the library for a briefing.”
He said absolutely nothing for a slow ten seconds, his gaze searching mine, then he nodded. “I understand.”
“I hope you do, Mr. Aston,” I said evenly.
He nodded, to accept my dismissal. “Mrs. Knight,” he said without the slightest hint of sarcasm, then he left.
The second the door closed behind him I slumped onto the bed behind me. That had been hard. But necessary. My libido was stirred by him, but that could be for any number of reasons, and triggered by recent events. When Marcus was removed from threat and I had time to draw a clear breath again, I’d look at this, and I’d wonder what was happening for Nicholas, and why he’d overstepped his own professional boundaries.
Because I could see that he had. In the opening weeks of his employment, he’d never asked a personal question, and I’d valued the fact that he respected my privacy. Today that had changed, and I wanted us to reset back to how we’d been.
I was confident that he was professional enough to accomplish that. And if he wasn’t, I’d hire someone else. That was always an option. Assuming I had any money left…
Ten minutes later I was dressed in a simple blue shift, wearing low-heeled sandals and with my hair tamed and a light application of makeup in place.
That was my armor, and as I stared at my reflection in the bathroom mirror, I felt restored. The mussed woman with red patches on her cheeks and bruised blue eyes was gone. She’d looked disturbingly sensual, and while the wholly feminine part of me wondered whether Nicholas had responded to that, the businesslike part of my mind was relieved to be back in control.
So I set off for the library, but when I reached the bottom of the stairs, I heard soft voices in the kitchen, one of them female.
Chapter Six
I came to a stop in the hallway beside the kitchen door, where the voices were still muted, but more distinct.
“…and I told you not to come back here.” That was Nicholas, his voice low and vibrating with something I hadn’t heard before. Emotion.
“Are you fucking her?”
I blinked, too surprised to be outraged. Was that Gisel?
“No. Not that it’s any of your—”
“Because you shouldn’t. You know that.” Silence ensued before she added, “And I can’t believe I’m saying this to you, but you can’t protect her if you are.”
“I know that,” he ground out.
“Then what’s with the ‘up close and personal’ shit?”
Silence while my heart thumped high up in my chest.
Then Gisel again, “I know what I saw.”
“It’s none of your business—”
“Is it business, Nick? Or is it personal? Because it can’t be both.” A heavy silence followed, before she added, “I don’t want to be the one at the morgue identifying your body. So get your shit in a pile. Focus on the job.”
I heard movement then, so I turned on my heel and headed back to the library where I was seated in my favorite wingback chair, forcing myself to steady breaths when Nicholas entered a minute later.
His eyes were dark and his gaze wasn’t meeting mine—still clearly disturbed—so I started in with something simple.
“Thank you for liaising with the police. I appreciate having someone with your skills available.” I was paying for those skills, but that didn’t stop me appreciating them. I couldn’t imagine how hard this would be if I had to navigate it alone.
“You’re welcome,” he said stiffly.
“And I appreciate you closing the bathroom door for me,” I said softly, then forced myself to keep staring at his face until his gaze clashed with mine. I could feel my cheeks warming, but I managed to add, “That was thoughtful.”
He was thoughtful. I was belatedly realizing that as my mind tracked back over the hundreds of incidents: opened doors, prepared vehicles and organized outings that had made each day flow smoothly.
He simply nodded. “I respect your privacy.”
I sucked in a slow, unsteady breath as a wave of warmth flowed through me. I wanted to say, You have no idea how important that is to me, but I suspected that he did. And that made his presence in my life even more necessary.
It was several seconds before I could speak. Then it was only to say, “I realize that today…things have been awkward between us.”
“Things have been honest between us today,” he replied, and I was suddenly very aware of how close he was standing—only two paces from my chair. His hands were hanging loosely at his sides, but for some reason I started imagining them on my body. Before I could stop myself, my eyelashes fluttered, as if they wanted to close, and it was such an effort to keep them open, and focused on him.
“I think…” I shook my head. What? Say something. “There are professional boundaries that—”
Before I could go on, his phone rang, and he held up a hand to stop me as he looked at the screen. “Police,” he said shortly, and put the phone to his ear, dropping his gaze to the floor.
I could hear nothing of what the police said, but after a few seconds, Nicholas interjected with, “The lover?” His gaze flashed up to meet mine, then he stared at me as he continued to listen. “I understand.” Another pause while he listened. “No, I’ll tell her. It is late. You can call again in the morning.”
He terminated the call and put the phone back into his pocket.
“The police?” I said to prompt him.
“They’ve identified the voice of the extortionist as the lover your ex-husband named, Oliver Jute. He’s been a suspect in previous crimes and they had his voice-print on file.”
I blinked, and had to replay the words in my mind to make sense of them. “That gruff horrible man. That was Marcus’s lover?”
Nicholas nodded.
I don’t know what I’d expected, and knew little about gay relationships, but I’d thought Marcus would choose someone…soft. Like me. The fact that he desired someone who sounded like a thug was beyond my comprehension.
All I could do was shake my head.
“Not only that,�
�� Nicholas went on in a flat, unemotional voice. “Hospital staff identified Jute by photo as one of the orderlies who removed Mr. Knight from the hospital. The police suspect that rather than kidnapping your ex-husband, Jute is simply extorting money from you, while entertaining him.”
Was that even possible? Could Marcus be enjoying some hedonistic experience while his lover was stripping me of assets behind his back? I knew Marcus would never knowingly harm me, but what if he’d handed over the whole issue of debt repayment to this horrible man and had washed his hands of it. And me.
I felt sick all over again, despite the fact that I had nothing in my stomach.
“The police are not sure?” I clarified, but my voice was faint and sounded far-away in my own ears which had started to buzz.
“They know your ex-husband was conscious when he left the hospital with his lover.”
If he was rubbing it in, trying to make me revolted with Marcus, he was succeeding.
I shook my head. “When will they find out for sure?”
“Tomorrow.” Nicholas was frowning, and I supposed it must all seem tawdry and pathetic to him. “They’ve downscaled the operation because the victim went willingly with the extortionist, and they could be working in collaboration. The fake drop-off will go ahead, and in all likelihood they’ll catch Jute.”
Fake drop off. So I didn’t need to raise funds. It would all be pretense. “Will Marcus be implicated?”
Nicholas shook his head. “I don’t know.”
“What about the real debt? The people who threatened him if he didn’t pay?”
“I don’t know.”
I looked away from him to stare at the wall of books. Everything I’d believed about Marcus was suddenly undermined. He wasn’t clever and charming. He’d turned into a suicidal, gullible hedonist. I didn’t recognize him anymore in these actions, and I felt so disgusted I lurched out of my chair.
“I have to leave.”
Husband Heel (Husband #3) Page 7
