by Mia Madison
Sometimes, the way they look at each other makes me wonder. It’s nothing I can put my finger on, just something in the air that’s somehow familiar. And then Hunter says, “You’re looking lovely tonight, Mrs. Drake.”
Lily smiles at him. “Why, thank you, Mr. Drake. You’re looking quite handsome yourself.”
“Did you remember to put the milk away before we left?”
“Did I?” She makes a thoughtful face that strikes me as entirely contrived. “I really can’t remember. It’s possible I forgot.”
Hunter makes a small tsking sound. “You mustn’t be so forgetful, Mrs. Drake.”
Her eyes sparkle. “It is a terrible fault of mine, Mr. Drake.”
It’s their obvious enjoyment that tips it for me: They’re staging a scene. Lily is going to be in trouble when she gets home, whether the milk she left out is real or imaginary.
Another couple who play the same games as Cameron and I … my mind suddenly flashes back to the conversation we had that day in the dining room, about exhibitionism. About me being spanked with an audience.
It’s all too easy to picture that happening with the Drakes watching.
I stare intently at my soup, lest my thoughts show on my face. It doesn’t help; now that the notion’s in my mind, I can’t seem to get rid of it. There’s a buzz in my head and I feel almost dizzy.
“Haley?” Hunter says. “Are you all right?”
“Excuse me.” I stand abruptly and lay my napkin down. “I’ll be right back.”
I don’t dare look Cameron’s way as I hurry from the room and make my way to the nearest bathroom. A splash of cold water helps cool my face. I’m gripping the sink, trying to collect myself, when the door opens and Lily slips in.
“I hope I’m not intruding, but we were worried about you.” She comes to me. “I’m afraid we might have upset you.”
“No, it’s not that. I just had an -- unexpected thought.”
Lily hesitates. “Hunter told me that he and Cameron are … alike in certain ways.”
“Yes.” I know she needs more, so I pull myself together and meet her eyes. “I can’t leave the milk out because the staff would put it away, but maybe I can put salt in his coffee or something.”
“That would do it,” she says, laughing. “But you’re sure it wasn’t us who, um, set you off?”
“It wasn’t you. Not directly. We’d better get back; but sometime, when circumstances are better suited to private conversation, I’ll tell you about it.”
“I’d like that.” We go out together. “I haven’t felt any lack, with it being just me and Hunter; but it’d be nice to have a friend who understood.”
“Yes,” I agree. “It would.”
We’ve reached the dining room. As we go in, Lily gives my fingers a quick squeeze. I can feel Cam’s eyes on me, and I give him a small smile to let him know I’m all right.
It seems I’ve made a friend tonight. Maybe even two of them.
“She’s lovely,” Hunter says to me.
“Isn’t she?” We’re having after-dinner drinks in the front parlor. No need for the antiquated custom of splitting up men and women, so everyone is free to socialize.
Haley is playing hostess to perfection, being gracious and kind to all the guests, but I can tell she’s not loving it. That’s all right, because I’m not the bon vivant type myself. Occasional entertaining is more than enough.
Lily has been flitting around the room, talking with everyone, rejoining her husband, then setting out again. Every time she reaches Haley, she stops for a while, especially if Haley’s got a brief moment to herself. Then their conversation gets animated.
“It looks like those two have had a meeting of the minds,” I say.
“Yes, I think so.” After a beat, Hunter asks, “Is she the one?”
“She’s mine.” My mind goes back to that day I met Hunter for lunch and learned that his new intern, one Lily Whitaker, was driving him to distraction.
“But you haven’t made it official yet.”
“There’s a situation.” I give him a brief thumbnail sketch of Peter Morgan’s problems. “I want it out of the way first.”
Hunter says, sotto voce, “You’re hacking the mob?”
“Damn straight.” Unbeknownst to almost everyone, there aren’t many websites I can’t access, and my investigative skills and instincts are solid. It’s useful when researching investments, of course, but over the years it’s also turned into an unofficial sideline business of helping find missing persons. Including, as it happens, Lily Whitaker.
Right now, I’m gathering data that will back the mob into a corner and get them to leave Haley and her father alone. It’s slower going than usual, because mobsters tend to use low-tech means of storing and sharing information whenever possible. But I’m getting there.
“Let me know what I can do. Anything, Cam. You know that.”
“I know. Thanks, Hunter.”
The guests are starting to leave. It’s time to join Haley and finish up the party, and then I have some special late-night activities planned for her.
My girl has earned rewards.
13
Bargain
I’m on my knees, blindfolded, my face to the mattress, my wrists and forearms bound behind my back, and Cam is filling me to bursting.
I’ve already come half a dozen times tonight, and now my body is revving up again as my man rides me hard, straight to the finish line. “Yes,” I pant as he plunges inside me. “I’m almost there.”
“Let it happen,” he growls, his hands on my hips, pulling me back to meet him with every thrust. “Come for me.”
His words work their magic, and my body tumbles off the precipice into ecstasy. “Yes!” I shout as I tighten around him. He hammers me until he follows me over the edge, and I clamp down hard while he pours himself into me, milking him for every drop.
Still inside me, Cameron undoes my ropes, then eases us onto our sides and pulls the covers up. He nuzzles my neck, my ear, and we cuddle together, no words needed, as the glow slowly ebbs.
Finally, he removes the blindfold. “I know you were nervous about the party,” he says. “But I want you to know you were an excellent hostess.”
I flush with pleasure. “Thanks.” Everyone there, except maybe his parents, seemed to accept me without question. No one sent me strange looks, as if to say, What’s a girl like you doing with a man like him?
It felt strange to me, because I still don’t have an official role in Cam’s life. We don’t go out together because, he says, there are still security concerns. And it’s true that I’ve seen men patrolling the property ever since that night he locked me in the study. I’m not allowed to go riding or anything like that by myself.
The dark cloud of self-doubt that nibbles at my mind says he’s hiding me. He’s never said he loves me, never talked about our future, never even suggested we have one. What am I to make of that?
“What are you thinking?” Cam says.
I don’t want to put him on the spot. All the relationship advice in the world says asking the man about its status is the best way to wreck it. Which seems pretty messed up to me, but there it is.
So I pivot. “I haven’t been able to reach my parents this week.”
Am I imagining the sudden tension in his body? I know I’m not imagining the several beats of silence before he speaks. “When’s the last time you talked to them?”
His tone is too casual. He doesn’t sound concerned at all, unless he’s pretending. Or I’m overreacting, and seeing things that aren’t there.
“Last week,” I tell him. “Mom answered the phone, and in retrospect she sounded funny, but at the time I just thought she was preoccupied. She said they’re planning a trip to Europe, but not until next month.”
“Could be they’re just busier than usual. Have you left messages?”
“Yeah, with both of them, and they haven’t called back. It’s kind of weird. I’m getting a little worried
.”
“Hmm. I’ll look into it.”
I relax against him. “Thanks, honey.”
My bonds are very comfortable, so it doesn’t bother me to be tied for longish periods of time, but now Cameron starts undoing them. When I’m free, he turns me to face him.
“There are things I need to say to you that I can’t quite yet.” There’s something in his eyes, serious but tender, that makes my heart beat faster. “But I want to.”
“Okay.” It feels like a lame response; shouldn’t I be more articulate while he’s hinting at something major? Except that anything indicating eagerness, or anticipation, might feel like pressure to hurry up and say them even if he’s not ready. “I can wait.”
His eyes warm. “Soon. I promise.” He seals it with a slow, deep kiss. I want to cuddle against him and go to sleep, but I can’t stop thinking about my parents.
“I left my phone in my room. I’m going to go check it, just in case one of them tried to reach me.”
“All right, babe.”
I roll off the bed and pull on Cam’s robe to pad down the hall. The only reason my purse, with my phone in it, is in my room is that my clothes are still in that closet, and I went there to change after the party. Cameron hasn’t said anything about me moving any of my things into his rooms. It’s another one of those little details that have been preying on my mind.
There’s nothing new on my phone. No calls, no texts. I stick it in my pocket and amble back to Cameron’s suite. Two feet from the open door, I hear his voice.
“Goddammit, Peter, what the fuck are you up to?”
I freeze, a chill creeping over me. Is he talking to my father? I’ve never heard him use that tone of voice before. It’s low, vicious, contemptuous.
A pause, then, “I told you to follow my orders exactly. Get any cute ideas and I’ll be taking Haley to your funeral.”
My body starts to tremble. Cam’s never told me he’s in regular contact with my father. His funeral? What the hell is going on? Why is Dad answering Cameron’s calls and not mine?
“You’ll get the money. I told you not to thank me; I’m paying you for Haley. She’s mine now, Peter.” Pause. “You’ll speak to her when I allow it, and not before.”
My stomach rebels. I’m shaking so hard now I have to lean against the wall or I’ll fall over.
“That’s right, Peter.” He laughs, and it’s a bitter, sarcastic, awful sound. “I get your daughter, and you get to stay alive. For fifty million, I call it a bargain.”
I can’t bear to hear any more. I flee back to my room and yank on the first clothes I find. Stuffing a change of clothing in my carry-on, along with my purse and my phone, I slip from my room.
During my explorations of the house, I’ve discovered it has a back stairway that comes out in a supply closet near my room. A discreet way for staff to come and go during big parties, I guess. I duck in and hurry down it.
The house is quiet and dark, and by now I know my way around it. I also know where the keys are kept for all the cars in the garage.
I take the SUV. It’s the least flashy vehicle in there, and one Cameron doesn’t drive that often. I’ll mail him the keys once I’m away. Tears spring to my eyes at that thought, and I blink them away.
Thank goodness for key fobs and keyless ignitions. I find the controller for the garage door in the glove compartment, and move my seat forward so I can reach the pedals. I’m still trembling, but I manage to put the car in gear and roll down the long drive, headlights still dark.
Hysteria keeps threatening. Why did I never see this side of him? How could I have been taken in so completely?
It doesn’t make sense; none of it makes sense. Paying my father money for me and threatening his life? Why does he need to do that when I was willingly his?
But I know what I heard. Cam hates my father. How did he get my father to send me to him in the first place? More threats?
What did Dad say, that day he sent me away? I wouldn’t do this if I had a choice, Haley. Someday you’ll understand.
Someday. When I’m far from here. The big iron gates swing open, and I turn the headlights on as I hit the street.
Fortunately, the car has GPS, because I have no idea where I’m going. I ask for the airport and it plots in a course that feels vaguely familiar. Probably the reverse of the taxi ride that brought me here, what seems like a million years ago now.
I’m five minutes from the house when it hits me. I get your daughter, and you get to stay alive. Oh my god. Is he going to hurt them if I leave? I have to go back.
The next intersection is a traffic circle. I’m halfway through it when an SUV pulls out and cuts me off.
I slam on the brakes. Another vehicle rear-ends me.
I’m still recovering from the shock of that when my door is yanked open. The next moment, there’s a gun in my face.
14
Lucky
“This is Hunter Drake.”
“They’ve got her.”
“Cam?”
“Fuck, Hunter. They’ve got Haley.”
“Shit. Are you tracking her?”
“Cell phone was in her purse. They left both behind. So no direct trace, but I’m pulling every string I have. I’ve got to go, Hunter. If you know any praying types, I’ll take all the help I can get.”
“Cam, you’ve got to pull in the big guns on this. Call the FBI.”
“I don’t have time for that.”
“Then I’ll call them. Hell, I’ll call the fucking President. I’ve got some strings of my own.”
“Appreciate it, brother.”
“Godspeed, Cam.”
The men who have me are not nice people. That much I’m sure of.
Everything else I thought I knew is a mass of confusion.
I don’t know where I am, or why. I was blindfolded and tied up and dumped in the back of a vehicle, and now I’m lying on the floor of a building somewhere.
Cameron did me one favor. While my captors have made a rough job of it, being bound and blindfolded isn’t nearly as terrifying as it would be if I weren’t used to it.
A few hours ago, I would have been sure Cam was moving heaven and earth to rescue me. Now I know there’s no one I can count on to save me from this, whatever “this” is.
Two more things I can be certain of.
I’m scared. And alone.
“This is Cameron Thorne.”
“Mr. Thorne, this is Neville Carson of the FBI Organized Crime Task Force. I understand you’ve gotten tangled up with some nasty customers.”
“They have my — a young woman. She’s completely innocent in all this.”
“Mr. Thorne, I sympathize with your position. However, I am obliged to inform you that if you move on these individuals, you’ll be jeopardizing years of work. There are several long-term operations aimed at bringing this bunch down.”
“Mr. Carson, if you expect me to leave a woman who matters — that I care — fuck it. She’s the woman I love, Carson, and if you expect me to leave her at their mercy, then with all due respect, sir, you can go fuck yourself.”
A hand closes over my arm and yanks me to my feet. I wince at how tightly he’s holding me. I’m dragged across a room and what feels like a cell phone is shoved into my hand.
I lift it to my face as if it might explode. “Hello?”
“Haley?”
“Daddy?” My voice cracks.
The phone is snatched away. The hand holding my arm wrenches it, and I cry out just as a gun goes off.
“Cameron Thorne.”
“Mr. Thorne, my name is Garrett Smith, formerly of the US Marine Corps. I work for a man named Carlo Adamo.”
“Never heard of him.”
“That’s all right, sir; most people haven’t. He’s got his own private investigations and security firm, and most of the employees, as well as Mr. Adamo himself, have seen action. We understand you’re trying to find a young lady who’s been abducted.”
“Th
e Ciccone crime family has her, and I think I know where. It’s a long story.”
“Your friend Mr. Drake gave us the gist of it, sir. We have a team en route to your destination.”
“Wait. Not my location, but my destination?”
“We’re pretty good at this sort of thing, Mr. Thorne, if you don’t mind my saying so. And we do appreciate your urgent interest in getting the young lady back unharmed and ASAP, but if you want to improve her chances … wait for us.”
I’m curled on the floor in a corner of the room, trying to make myself invisible. I know it’s a corner because after they flung me down here, I explored with my fingertips and found the walls.
They’re talking about me. Low enough that I can’t understand most of what they say, but the occasional phrases I catch make me shake inside.
One of them wants to kill me right now. The other two want to have some fun with me first. I’ve just about made up my mind to fight them, when they come for me, in hopes that they shoot me and make it quick.
If I still had Cam, I’d want to survive. He’d try to save me, and if he couldn’t, he wouldn’t blame me for what they did. But that was the old Cameron, the one I could believe in.
Footsteps come toward me. I shrink back, terrified, but hoping they’ll untie me, if only to have more freedom in what they do to me. That’ll at least give me the chance to end this on my own terms.
Shots ring out, followed by the thud of bodies hitting the floor nearby. A moment later, the room is full of people. They move with uncanny quietness, but the cumulative effect of their presence still registers on my senses.
Strong arms lift me, and then I’m cradled against a broad chest. For an instant a wild hope flares, but just as quickly dies. This man smells clean and masculine, but not like Cam.
“Hang on, doll,” a deep voice says. “We’ve gotta get out of this house before they bring in reinforcements, and then we’ll get you squared away.”
He sounds utterly calm despite the fact that he’s apparently just shot a few people. Somehow his confidence is contagious, and I let myself breathe more deeply while he moves, carrying me easily.
