Eaton slapped him. Mark didn’t care. It was satisfying that he’d hit a nerve. At some point, one or more of the team would figure out this wasn’t worth it. He would turn that into an advantage as Eaton’s plans played out.
“Tell me you’ve sent Charlotte home,” he said, glancing at the closest guards. “Letting her go doesn’t spoil his plans for me. My family and team already know I’ve been taken. Letting her go will be save your sorry asses though, because you won’t be responsible for anything that happens to her. A smart boss would operate from wisdom rather than pride and spare his team the risk and embarrassment.”
Eaton’s confident grin would only have been more terrifying if he’d added clown face paint and a red wig. What was the man up to?
“Didn’t you get the memo, Riley? I’m in control. This is my world. Neither you nor your pretty friend have a say in how things will go here.” He cocked his head. “However, I do believe in fair play.”
“Fair play?” Mark echoed. Mentally he took a step back. This guy wasn’t teetering on the edge of insanity—he’d embraced the free fall. “Then why am I restrained?”
“Because our game is just getting started.”
Eaton stared at Mark for a long bone-chilling moment. Turning on his heel, he began barking orders to his men. Pausing, he cast a look over his shoulder. “Do cooperate for my team, Riley. An injury will only delay the inevitable.”
Mark had a few inevitable ideas of his own. “Where is Charlotte?” he shouted.
Eaton raised a hand and Mark sensed movement behind him. He didn’t have time to turn or dodge before a heavy blow struck the back of his head. He staggered under it, seeing stars, but he wasn’t completely out as two men hooked him under the arms and dragged him away.
He fought to stay conscious, seeking out any pertinent details as they hauled him out of the garage, over a gangway and down to a waiting boat.
“Charlotte!” In his mind and heart, he’d shouted it. Based on the guffaws around him, it had been more of a whimper.
That was fine. Let them laugh. If they were convinced he was too weak to fight, he’d have his opening sooner than expected. And he’d seize that opening just as soon as he found Charlotte.
He heard the rasp and rattle of a lock on a door and felt the sharp nip of a needle at his neck before everything went dark.
* * *
His son was missing.
The thought lodged in Ben Riley’s mind, making it impossible to think of anything else.
He stared out the window of the hotel room. His wife was behind him on the phone, quietly speaking to Charlotte’s mother, Sue Ellen. When it had become clear Charlotte had ducked out of her first solo showing, they’d all covered for her. No one was surprised. The girl was immensely talented, but she was shy, had always struggled with being the center of attention.
Then another scenario circulated. The consensus was that Charlotte had left with Mark. Ben didn’t find that cause for much concern; the kids had been friends all their lives, though Patricia had been inexplicably disappointed.
No, the real worry hadn’t set in until another hour had passed, another hour for the kidnappers to take Mark and Charlotte farther out of reach.
Ben scrubbed at his hair, freshly trimmed for Charlotte’s big night. He’d long since shed his suit coat and tie and rolled his shirtsleeves back to his elbows. He was ready to do something, to take action, but the authorities had told him to stand down.
Ben had been assured retirement would be relaxing. His wife and friends who had retired ahead of him told him it would be great, that they enjoyed themselves immensely. It all rang hollow now.
He’d barely had time to acclimate to their new beach house when John Eaton came out of his past, targeting the Riley children as revenge for Ben putting an end to the sniper’s army career.
Why couldn’t they drop a net over the bastard?
A hitch in Patricia’s voice drew his attention. He turned, ready to comfort, but she waved him off with a brave smile and continued her conversation with her best friend. His wife had always been a rock in a crisis and he’d always been honored and grateful for her partnership, loyalty and love.
What Ben wouldn’t give to have a unit at his back. He was ready to lead an all-out assault to track down Mark and Charlotte and put an end to Eaton. Being sidelined was hell.
On the verge of losing his temper, Ben walked into the bedroom and closed the door. The view through this window wasn’t any different. A dark Atlantic Ocean stretched out under a deep sky and foam-tipped waves gleamed under the pale moonlight. He’d planned a romantic evening with his wife after they’d showed Charlotte their support. Instead the evening was a disaster.
Once the team running security at the gallery had recovered from Eaton’s coordinated attack, they’d done their best to pick up a trail. So far no one could say for sure that Mark and Charlotte were still in the city. He and Patricia had left the gallery in a daze, returning to the hotel room to wait for information.
Ben had never felt more defeated than he did right now. Considering some of the places he’d served, that was quite a statement. He’d let down his family, exposing them to a threat he wished he could have anticipated.
His hands curled into fists as he ran through his memories of Eaton, a skilled sniper who had snapped in a startling display of cold-blooded violence. There had only been one way to deal with a scenario most commanders never faced. Get him out of the service. Somehow, despite the army’s disciplinary actions, Eaton had recovered and spent years recruiting aggressive mercenaries to harass and endanger his family.
Not for the first time, he wished the man would come straight at him, instead of taking aim at the kids.
All five of his children were capable adults. He and Patricia had seen to that by setting high expectations and giving them the best foundation they could provide. And Hank, the soldier he’d taken under his wing early in his career, was considered family now, and fully capable of leading this investigation to a just conclusion.
But would they lose Mark and Charlotte in the process?
Pulling his cell phone from his pocket, he started to text Hank and caught himself. Pestering would be more of a hindrance than a help. Hank would update him when there was news to share. He took a deep breath. That was the crux of it; there was nothing for him to do but wait. He’d given Hank all the details he could recall about Eaton’s habits as a soldier and his basic demeanor and attitude as a man.
Ben never anticipated the man could organize and pull off the stunts he’d accomplished against the family so far. His vengeance had almost been the end of both Matt and Grace Ann. He’d set traps for both of them, and used those stunts to torture Ben.
The bedroom door opened quietly and Patricia joined him at the window, sliding her arms around his waist and leaning her cheek to his back. “Everyone is doing all they can to find the kids. We’ll have them home again soon.”
“And here I stand, useless.” Hank and the local authorities had expressly prohibited him from joining the search. “We can’t even give a statement to the press.”
“Can you imagine how Eaton would gloat if we did? His team managed to snag a Navy SEAL.”
He turned his back on the view to study his wife. Stronger now, lovelier than she’d been the day they’d met. Her unruffled calm shouldn’t be a surprise. “He took your child.”
“Two, really.” She pressed a hand over her heart. “I’m as furious as you are. The man is a monster and, given a choice, I’d have him drawn and quartered for coming after our family.”
Ben traced her cheek and brow, smoothed a strand of hair behind her ear. “I don’t do helpless.”
“I never would’ve stuck around this long if you did.” Her lips tilted into a small smile.
“There must be something we can do.” He caught her hands in his. “Waiting with
no information is worse than all the pictures he’s sent before.”
“Knowing Eaton, he’ll send us something soon,” she noted.
“Charlotte’s parents will never forgive us,” he said.
“Mark won’t let anything happen to her.” Patricia stepped into his embrace and he hugged her close. “Our boy will bring her back.”
Neither one of them could voice the thought that Mark wasn’t alive, alert and able to protect Charlotte. “Are you concerned they’re more than family friends?” he asked.
“No,” Patricia said with a soft laugh. “Although I caught him looking at her with something more than friendship in his eyes. If I hadn’t assumed he’d swept her away from her own party, we might’ve recognized the trouble sooner.”
“Mark’s an incorrigible flirt,” Ben said. “He gets that from you.”
She swatted his chest lightly and wriggled out of his embrace. “I can’t help thinking Charlotte could be just what Mark needs,” she said. “I’m not sure the reverse is true after what Maria did.”
She never failed to surprise him. “So you finally admit you have a favorite child and it’s Charlotte.”
“I should’ve thought of that answer ages ago.” Her eyes crinkled at the corners. “There’s no secret relationship between them, Ben. I learned that much. She was simply in the wrong place at the wrong time. And she probably tried to help him.”
“True.” He hadn’t considered that angle. “She has spunk.”
“She’s so quiet it’s easy to overlook.”
Ben sat down hard on the end of the bed. He gazed out at the night, racking his mind for any stray thought that could prove helpful. “Tell me what to do.”
“We do as Hank asked,” Patricia replied. “We wait.”
He swore.
She shook her head. “If we jump the gun, we only cause more problems. We’ll wait, together, and think positively until it’s time for us to do more.”
“You amaze me.”
“Up close or from a distance?” she teased.
“I’m serious,” he said.
“Oh, honey, I know you are.” She sat beside him and rubbed his shoulder. “Whenever you were overseas, there were times I thought the waiting would do me in.”
He laced his fingers with hers. “I took you for granted.”
“Of course you did. That’s part of the deal. My job was keeping the house and family going while you did your job. Now, at least, I can wait with my best friend rather than for my best friend.”
“That’s not as comforting as you might believe.”
“Maybe not for you.”
She rested her cheek on his shoulder, his wife of more than three decades. In Love and Life Together had been their motto from the beginning, whether they’d been in the same room or thousands of miles apart.
“I’m sorry,” he whispered.
She turned, taking his face between her hands, hands that had raised five children, too often alone. “Don’t be. Eaton’s quest for revenge is not your fault. He’s a criminal and you did what was necessary. These attacks are on his head, not yours.”
He closed his eyes so she wouldn’t see the guilt churning inside.
Her hands gripped his shoulders and she gave him a little shake. “Benjamin Riley, you know I’m right.”
She was. Still. He pressed a hand to his gut. “I can’t shake this sense of dread over what Eaton has in mind this time. I want to get out there.”
“Then we will. As soon as Hank has a solid direction, we’ll find a way to help the search.”
“Together,” he said emphatically. He didn’t trust himself to get out there and look without her at his side.
“Always.” She touched her nose to his. “There’s no other way for us, my love.”
* * *
Charlotte sat on the end of the narrow bunk in a tiny cabin. She’d been led onto the boat and down to this room by a guard who’d shown surprising courtesy and compassion. He’d removed her handcuffs, thankfully, but she was still barefoot in a dress she was ready to be done with, despite Mark’s compliments.
What had they done to him?
The courteous guard had locked her in and she’d heard him order someone else to stand watch outside the door. She was still a prisoner with no idea what might be coming next. Her fear was on the rise again, tightening her chest and making her palms damp.
Breathing deeply, she closed her eyes. Inhale calm, exhale panic. She heard a noise in the corridor and her eyes popped open. Mark had been emphatic the search for them was already underway. He’d told her to grab a chance if she could to get away. But how could she leave him, knowing he was in danger?
When he didn’t charge through the door, she tried the calming breath again. Inhale, exhale. It wasn’t working. She jumped up from the bunk and shook out her hands, trying to imagine herself at her studio or at the campsite by the lake.
Nothing worked. Panic had been perched on her shoulder, ready to pounce long before they’d separated her from Mark. Now, calm was a vague concept she couldn’t grasp. Like algebra. Or cubism. Well, she understood cubism—she just didn’t like it much.
She tapped her hand against her forehead. That was a perfect example of freaked-out, useless thinking. Mark would be searching for a way out, and she could do the same. Giving up on the breathing exercise, she kneaded the muscles in her hands and forearms, avoiding the abrasions on her wrists from the handcuffs. Something in the room might be useful. Had to be if she was going to escape and find Mark.
They were on a boat, still at the dock. No sounds of an engine or the noises or motions that indicated they would soon be underway. If she set the bunk mattress on fire, someone would have to come in to put it out. A quick search of the room proved futile. Anything that might help her start a fire had been removed. She looked at the light switch, wondering if she could get that to spark and flame. Knowing her lousy track record with most things mechanical, she’d electrocute herself before she worked the switch plate off the wall. Besides, how would she control the blaze before help came?
The space had a functional, if miniscule, bathroom. She supposed she could flood the space. She opened the faucet and stifled a groan at the tiny trickle. No water pressure and no stopper for the sink. She could tear apart her dress to clog the sink drain, but even then, flooding the room would take days. Did she have days?
Shying away from that slippery slope of despair, she continued her search for anything that could become a weapon. Lifting the mattress from the bunk and removing all three drawers from the dresser one by one, she came up empty again. “Come on, Charlotte. Think.”
The closest thing to a weapon was a drawer. Not an item easily hidden if, say, she coaxed the guard into opening the door. “I could ask nicely,” she muttered to the empty room. “Please lie down and be nice enough to pass out the first time I strike you.”
Even if that absurd scenario worked, there were at least four other guards she’d seen around the boat and dock. Odds were good they wouldn’t all be as accommodating as the guard in her imagination.
Frustrated, she flopped back onto the bed.
What would Mark expect of her? He’d asked her to trust him. To hang in there. Both trust and the hanging-in were easier when he was in sight and within reach. She didn’t even have a good idea of how much time had passed while they were locked in the van.
Mark had called her fierce and she did her best to cling to his view of her. Just because she couldn’t see any action to take right now didn’t mean there wouldn’t be an opportunity. A fierce artist. She liked the sense of empowerment that surged through her along with the images dancing through her mind. Closing her eyes again, she imagined herself strong and determined, standing against the bullies holding her and the man she loved.
The man who had no idea she loved him.
Wel
l, he knew she loved him like family. He just had no idea she’d been in love with him for as long as she could remember. The idea of him anyway. She wondered what he’d say if he knew he was the star of her fantasies that had grown from a crush to infatuation to something no other guy could possibly live up to.
Knowing Mark, he’d be flattered. His ornery grin would flash before it melted into a warm and sincere smile. And then he’d dash off to do something athletic or heroic or date someone more beautiful and confident, and she wouldn’t see him until the next holiday or family event.
Life was precious; the past few hours proved how quickly things could change. It shouldn’t matter if he left her for a new assignment or because he didn’t return her feelings. She wanted to be fierce, to seize the moment, but she couldn’t shake the potential fallout. It was probably a good thing she hadn’t managed that kiss. That would’ve changed things between them too much and he needed to focus. She’d do everything in her power to help them escape and then channel all her love for him into her art.
Though she longed for that fancy dinner, it wasn’t the smart move. As well as she knew Mark, she knew herself better. A fancy night out would turn romantic in her mind and another decade of her dating life would slip by in a blur of men who weren’t Mark.
Even if he did look at her in the romantic way she longed for, he wasn’t ready to leave his career and his SEAL brothers. She certainly wasn’t ready to do the military-wife-and-family thing, despite the example set by her mother and his. Throwing away a good, solid friendship on a dream that couldn’t come true made no sense.
Her heart could go back to all that wishing and yearning later. Right now, survival was paramount. If they didn’t escape this situation—together—Eaton would make sure neither of them would be yearning for anything ever again.
She stood at the narrow bathroom door, wondering if she could dismantle a pipe or the towel bar. Her hands slipped and slid for purchase as she tugged at the towel bar. She was reconsidering the drawer as a weapon when she heard the slide of the lock and the door opened. She froze and then her knees started to quake. So much for Mark’s fierce artist.
Harlequin Romantic Suspense December 2020 Box Set Page 78
