Page 19 of The Captive (The Kelley Legacy #5)

Lana jumped as the wheels connected with the runway, causing the plane to bounce and shudder until it finally came to a complete stop.

On the other side of the lavish cabin, Deacon sat next to Tango, and she noticed that both men wore the same serious expression.

They didn’t look happy about this latest development.

Neither was she.

And she certainly wasn’t happy with what had happened last night in the cabin. When she’d nearly seduced Deacon.

What had she been thinking?

Nothing at all.

No, she hadn’t been thinking last night.

Rick Garrison’s senseless death had sent her reeling, placed her in a severe state of shock that left her numb and unable to conjure up a single rational thought.

Even now, the memory of Garrison’s lifeless body caused her pulse to race.

Le Clair had murdered that poor man in cold blood, and no matter what Deacon said, she knew she’d be saddled with Garrison’s death on her conscience for the rest of her life.

Her hands went cold as the ominous knowledge settled over her like a thick patch of fog. A man had died because of her.

No, because of her father. The one person she’d always stood by, given her unconditional love to, no matter how badly he screwed things up with her mother and siblings. Why hadn’t her father found a way to rescue her already?

The anger coursing through her came as a total shock. As a child, she’d idolized her dad. As an adult, she’d rationalized his mistakes, tried to see the best in him despite his many flaws.

Maybe she’d been wrong to do that. It was definitely getting harder to ignore everything Hank Kelley had done, especially now.

Her father had cheated on her mother. He’d selfishly hurt his wife and Lana’s older brothers.

And he’d hurt her, too, over the years, no matter how much she tried to deny it.

He hadn’t even shown up for her college graduation, for Pete’s sake. But she’d forgiven him, of course.

She always forgave him, she realized bitterly. Always gave him the benefit of the doubt, even when her older brothers laughed at her for doing it, teasing her for being an idealistic fool.

But this…could she forgive her father for this? She’d been a prisoner for more than a month, and what was her dad doing? Sitting at home drinking his favorite bourbon while he continually refused to pay her ransom?

Why wasn’t he doing something, damn it?

Lana resisted the urge to cradle her belly. She’d been doing that too often lately, and was fearful that Deacon would start to pick up on the shielding gesture.

So what if he does?

The thought made her hesitate. Maybe it was time to tell Deacon the truth about the baby. She’d been dragging her feet for weeks, but now that the situation seemed to be escalating into something that sent a chill to her bones, she might need to be completely honest with Deacon.

Another SUV greeted them at the airstrip, and Lana was shoved into the backseat.

Still not blindfolded, though, which was a relief.

She stared glumly out the tinted window as the familiar scenery whizzed by.

The car cruised right by Capitol Hill then veered north, finally coming to a stop on a narrow street near Stanton Park.

Low-rise apartment buildings lined each side of the sidewalk.

Echo, who was in the driver’s seat, drove into an underground parking lot beneath one of the buildings.

The sheer nerve of it amazed her. They were hiding her in plain sight. No isolated cabin this time, but in the heart of the U.S. capital. These men were either very foolish or very smart.

Le Clair hadn’t come with them this time.

He’d slid into another SUV with Oscar at the airstrip, saying he had a few things to take care of.

Lana hoped that meant he was contacting her father again, setting up some kind of exchange, but the nagging twisting of her insides told her she might be hoping for too much.

The four remaining men—Deacon, Echo, Kilo and Tango—clustered around her as they walked into the elevator in the underground. The car dinged and stopped on the third floor, and then she was being led into a spacious apartment with cream-colored walls, modern furnishings and thick white carpeting.

“Who lives here?” she couldn’t help but ask.

None of the men replied. Deacon had her suitcase tucked under one strong arm.

He gestured for her to follow him, taking her down the brightly lit hallway toward a bedroom in the back.

The master bedroom, judging by the size, and a refreshing change from her previous accommodations.

This room was large and airy, with a huge four-poster bed and bright turquoise comforter, a cozy living area with a couch and love seat, and an enormous bathroom off to the left.

“You’ll be more comfortable now,” he said.

She fixed him with a cool stare. “I’m still a prisoner. A fancy room isn’t going to change that.”

What looked like remorse flickered in his hazel eyes. “I’m sorry.”

She got the feeling he was apologizing for a lot more than simply her current state of captivity.

“How much longer is this going to last, Deacon?” She spoke in a dull voice, not even able to muster up anger anymore.

“I don’t know.”

“Another week? Another month?”

“I don’t know.”

The pain on his face was unmistakable. The tug of hope she’d experienced in the car returned, this time wrapping around her entire body like a comforting pair of arms. “You’re going to help me,” she whispered.

His eyes remained shuttered. “Nothing’s been decided yet.”

Lana moved toward him. Before she could stop herself, she had both her hands on his chin. She forced him to meet her gaze. “No, you’ve already decided. You don’t like what’s happening here any more than I do.”

“No,” he agreed quietly.

Her hands dropped to her sides in determined fists. “Then let’s get out of here. I promise you, I won’t let them arrest you. I’ll do everything I can to make sure the authorities know you’re not to blame for any of this.”

His eyebrows shot up to his forehead. Her words surprised her as much as they did him.

She hadn’t planned on saying that, but once it was out, she realized she didn’t want to take it back.

She didn’t want to see Deacon punished for this.

Maybe it made her the idiot of the century, but she was still clinging to the notion that he was a good man.

“You’d do that for me?” He sounded gruff. And slightly ashamed. As if he couldn’t possibly fathom how she could make him an offer like that.

“This wasn’t your idea.” She studied his face. “You got caught up in something that spun out of control. And you’ve been doing everything in your power to keep me safe. I’ll make sure the cops know that.”

“Why?”

Because you’re the father of my baby.

The confession almost popped out, but jammed in her throat at the last second. Not yet. She couldn’t tell him yet. He was beginning to give in, to recognize that they truly needed to get themselves out of this mess. If she told him about the baby now, he might shut down again and dismiss her plan.

She couldn’t risk that.

“Because I have to believe you’re a good person,” was what she said instead.

He shifted in discomfort, his broad shoulders sagging. “Why are you so determined to believe that? I’m not the man you think I am. I’m not—”

“Delta.” Tango’s sharp voice came from the doorway.

Both Lana and Deacon turned to look at him. She noticed that Tango’s scar was stretched tight over his cheek, his expression taut with suspicion. Oh, crap. Had he overheard what they’d been talking about?

She studied his face, but he gave no sign that he’d heard anything of importance. “We need you to help secure the apartment,” he muttered to Deacon.

With a nod, Deacon headed for the door. “I’ll bring you some lunch shortly,” he said to her without turning around.

She watched the two men go, listened to the sound of yet another lock sliding into place.

Lana released a troubled breath. Okay. She was locked up again. But this time, the hope swimming through her remained strong. Steady. Deacon was slowly coming over to her side. He’d heard everything she’d said right now. He’d even seemed to be considering it.

All she could do now was pray that she’d gotten through to him.

* * *

A week passed before Hank called with another update.

The last Sarah had heard, her husband had hired a mercenary to retrieve their daughter.

Since then, she’d been going out of her mind with panic, conjuring up so many worst-case scenarios she couldn’t even remember what living without fear had been like.

When the phone finally rang, she was in Vivienne’s kitchen, staring at a glass emptied of red wine.

Viv had flown back to California to be with her children—she had two young teenagers who needed constant attention—but she’d made it clear that Sarah could stay in the Vineyard beach house for as long as she needed.

Sarah had been tempted to return to California, too, but the thought of being alone in the Beverly Hills mansion she’d shared with her husband sent sorrow spinning through her.

She couldn’t face the past yet, not when her future with Hank was still up in the air.

Not when her daughter had been a prisoner for more than a month.

“It’s not good,” were Hank Kelley’s first words.

Terror seized her heart. “Is she alive?”

“As far as I know.” He let out a heavy breath. “But the man I sent to rescue her isn’t.”

“What?”

“They killed him, Sarah. He was supposed to be one of the best, and these sons of bitches managed to kill him.” Agony rang from his voice. “Cole found the body. Those bastards dropped him off right on the doorstep, a bullet between his eyes.”

Sarah almost fainted. The phone fell from her hands, clattering against the white marble counter. She dropped her head in her hands and sucked in desperate breaths, fighting the wave of lightheadedness ripping through her.

“Sarah. Sarah! Sarah! ”

Hank’s voice thudded from the phone. She finally picked up the cell. “I’m here,” she croaked. “I’m… Oh, lord, Hank, who are these people?”

He didn’t reply.

“You need to call the FBI,” she burst out. “And I’m calling Jim.”

“Not yet,” Hank blurted. “I promise you, darling, I’m taking care of it. I’m going to demand proof of life the next time they call, which should be any second now. They’re going to want to brag about their latest surprise.”

“Proof of life?” she echoed warily.

“I don’t want to involve anyone else until I know without a doubt that Lana is still alive. For all we know, they’re just playing with us.”

Another wave of dizziness. The mere thought of Lana being gone made her belly tighten with uncontrollable grief. “Jim might be able to help.”

“No. I’m not dragging another one of our children into this mess. I wouldn’t be able to live myself if something happened to that boy. Losing Lana is already bad enough.”

“We haven’t lost her,” she choked out. “Don’t say things like that.”

A heavy breath filled the line. “I know. I’m sorry.” He paused. “Just sit tight, darling. I’m going to make some calls, and I hope the men who have our daughter will contact me soon. Trust me. I’ll be in touch, Sarah.”

They disconnected, and Sarah’s head dropped right back between her hands. Tears filled her eyes. Trust me.

How could he even ask her that, after everything he’d done to their family? But what choice did she have?

She wanted her daughter back, and Hank was right. If they involved anyone else right now, the kidnappers could panic and kill Lana. If they hadn’t done so already.

She gathered up every iota of strength in her body, slowly lifting her head. It was becoming glaringly obvious that if she wanted her daughter home safe and sound, she really did need to do the impossible.

Trust her husband again.