The last item on her growing Why-I-Should-Worry list was the pregnancy. She hadn’t revealed her condition to her captors, didn’t even know if she should, and though she now had the opportunity to tell Deacon, she wasn’t sure she wanted the man to have any part in this baby’s life. He’d kidnapped her, for God’s sake. What kind of father figure was that for her child?
She was also concerned about how she would take care of herself. She hadn’t been to a doctor yet, but she knew vitamins and a healthy diet were important to the growth of a healthy fetus. Hopefully she wouldn’t be here for much longer, but in the meantime, she could keep taking her multivitamins, which had calcium and vitamin C and a bunch of other important nutrients. No folic acid, but again, she probably wasn’t going to be here long.
As promised, Deacon had brought in some food, a surprisingly healthy dish of rice, chicken breast and broccoli. Afterward, he’d left her alone, and now she was lying down and wishing she were anywhere but here. A single bulb dangling from the ceiling illuminated the small room, and it was dark outside the window over the desk. Getting colder, too. Lana shivered on the bed, though she had a feeling the chill running through her had nothing to do with the temperature and everything to do with her predicament.
Bitterness lodged in her throat as she remembered Deacon’s confession. He’d known who she was the night at the Louvre. He’d already been part of this sick plot to kidnap her, and yet he’d still gone ahead and made love to her.
“No,” she said aloud, a vicious taste entering her mouth.
It wasn’t making love. It was sex. And deception.
How was she ever going to explain this to her child when he or she got older?
The sound of the lock creaking open caught her attention. She sat up just as Deacon walked into the room. He wore dark pants and a black turtleneck underneath an unbuttoned navy-blue shirt, and for a moment she almost forgot why they were both here. He was so damn gorgeous. It wasn’t fair for him to look so good and yet be doing this to her.
“I thought you might be cold,” he said gruffly.
He held out his hands, and she noticed the flannel afghan. She forced herself not to feel pleasure from the thoughtful gesture.
“Thank you,” she said in a stiff voice.
Deacon walked to the bed and handed her the blanket, which she draped over her lower body. Immediately, she felt warmer.
“Lana…” he started, then stopped.
She met his hazel eyes. “Did you contact my father?”
“Not yet.”
“How long am I going to be here?” There was a petulant chord to her tone, but she wasn’t ashamed of it. She deserved to be childish, if she chose to be. These people had kidnapped her, after all.
“I don’t know.” He shifted uneasily. “Did you give any thought to what I told you?”
She tightened her lips. “About keeping my mouth shut?”
“Yes.” That grave glimmer filled his eyes. “Everything I said was true. If Le Clair finds out about us, it won’t bode well for either one of us.”
She didn’t doubt that. Le Clair struck her as the kind of man who’d kill Deacon in cold blood if he found out about his indiscretion. Pathetic as it was, she didn’t want anything happening to Deacon. He might be in league with these men, but she’d believed him when he’d said he would keep her safe. His presence brought her a sick sense of security. If he was gone, she’d be all alone and at the mercy of Le Clair.
“I won’t say anything,” she finally said. A pause. “For now.”
He offered an expression of gratitude. “Thank you. I know I don’t deserve it.”
“No, you don’t.”
His big shoulders sagged. “I’m sorry you’re going through this. I really am. But it will all be over soon, Lana.”
Anger climbed up her chest, making her throat go tight. “Don’t bother with apologies. If you really cared about me, you would let me go.” She frowned. “Actually, if you cared, you wouldn’t have even let it get to this point. You could’ve warned me at the museum, told me to get out of town.”
His features were creased with exhaustion as he said, “It wouldn’t have mattered. We would have found you eventually.”
We. His use of the word only served as a reminder of who he truly was. He was working with these men. Holding her captive. All so he could score a few bucks. It was perplexing, because even now, she couldn’t bring herself to call this man greedy. He lacked that hungry glint in his eyes, the one that every other man in this nasty group seemed to possess.
“Why do you need the money?” she blurted out, unable to let go of the disturbing notion.
Deacon shrugged. “Why don’t I?”
“Are you planning on buying a yacht? A fancy villa? Cars, women, expensive gadgets?”
Discomfort was written all over his face. “No, I’m not planning on buying any of those things.”
“Then why?”