Four days. Lana could barely comprehend how four days had passed and she was still being kept against her will in a desolate cabin in northern California. Why hadn’t the kidnappers contacted her family yet? Or maybe they had, and her family was refusing to negotiate with them….
She forced the scary thought from her mind, fixing her gaze out the small rusted window in the bedroom. No, her father would never stand for this. Hank Kelley, despite his many flaws, would never allow his daughter to be held captive for a second longer than necessary. Maybe Le Clair was the one stalling. He could always be holding out for more money.
More money for what, though? What was this even about? A straight-up ransom thing? Or did it have to do with her dad’s recent scandal? Could Le Clair be blackmailing Hank—maybe threatening to reveal some more damaging information? None of this made sense to her. There were no answers, no clarity. Just the knowledge that she was a prisoner.
Moving to the window of the bedroom, Lana examined the barren land through the dirty windowpane. Her pulse quickened when she caught sight of Charlie standing several yards away, a rifle slung over his shoulder and his shaved head gleaming in the pale afternoon sun. The man’s dark gaze was sharp as a hawk’s, moving left and right in a practiced sweep of the area. She suspected the others had taken up similar positions to guard the cabin.
To make sure nobody approached unseen—and that she couldn’t escape.
Trapped. She was utterly trapped, and a rush of pure helplessness hit her body. Her hands slid down to her still-flat belly, stroking it protectively.
“It’s okay, baby,” she whispered. “We’re going to get out of this.”
She’d begun talking to the baby often over the days. She hoped he or she was finding her voice reassuring. It reassured her, too, despite the fact that she’d never been prone to talking to herself.
“Your granddaddy is going to pay the bad men whatever they want,” she continued softly, stroking her stomach. “And then we’ll go home. You’re going to love your grandparents’ house. It’s big and beautiful and you’ll have so much room to play….”
Her voice drifted, as she realized she had no clue if she and the baby would even live in the Beverly Hills mansion. She probably ought to get her own place, or maybe find a cozy little ranch house in Montana, near the Bar Lazy K, her brother Cole’s ranch. But her mother would probably want her close by. Mom would adore being a grandma. Her eldest brother, Chase, had two kids with his wife, but Lana’s mother didn’t get to see them often. Only once a year, when she flew out to Chase’s cattle station in Australia. Chase hadn’t returned to the States since he’d left at the age of eighteen, determined to be rid of his father.
Lana didn’t understand her older brother’s decision. Their dad might not be the best paternal role model, but he was still family. She had no intention of ever abandoning her family the way Chase had.
God, she missed them. Cole and Dylan, the handsome serious twins. Jake, with his reckless love of adventure. Jim, only a year older than her and yet her biggest protector. And her mother. God, she wondered how Mom was faring. First the shocking revelation of Hank’s affairs and now her daughter kidnapped.
Tears stung Lana’s eyes. She moved away from the window, just as the lock clicked and the door swung open. Deacon’s broad frame filled the doorway. He held a small plate loaded with thin slices of carrots and celery.
“I thought you might want a snack,” he said, his features creased with hesitation.
She swiped at her tears with the sleeve of her burgundy mohair sweater. “Thanks,” she said dully, sinking onto the edge of the bed.
Deacon handed her the plate, and though she was too depressed to eat, she mechanically bit into one carrot and forced herself to chew. The baby needed nourishment, and she refused to deprive it of a solitary thing. So far, she hadn’t experienced any morning sickness, which was fortunate. She had no clue how she’d explain it to Deacon, who would be the one taking her to and from the bathroom if her stomach began to rebel.
“How are you doing?” he asked.
“Gee, Delta.” She used the name she heard the other men call him, mostly out of spite. “I’m doing great. I’m locked up in a tiny room. I’m not allowed to go outside. I get all my meals brought in to me like I’m a naughty child who can’t eat with the grown-ups. I’ve been kidnapped. By a man I had sex with, no less. Oh, and my back hurts. Any other questions?”
“You’d like to go outside?”
She faltered. Seriously? Out of everything she’d just unloaded on him, that was what he hung on to? But she decided to dial down on the anger. Truth was, she was tired of being cooped up inside.
“Yes, actually, I would.”
“Put on your coat then. It’s windy out there.”