Page 25 of The Captive (The Kelley Legacy #5)

“No. He didn’t use fists, he used words.

He wanted so much from everyone, from her, from me, and we always came up short.

We always disappointed him, and he never hesitated to tell us that, especially her.

And then one day, he just snapped.” Deacon’s voice thickened with pain.

“I don’t know why. I have no clue what led to it, what she might have said or done to trigger him.

I hired a PI about fifteen years ago, trying to piece it together, but he came up with nothing.

Mom wasn’t cheating, hadn’t planned on leaving, hadn’t done anything. My father just…”

He stopped abruptly. Lana knew what came next, a tragic murder-suicide that had shattered Deacon’s entire world. Rather than focus on that horrifying snippet of history, she said, “After they died, what happened to the money?”

“My uncle happened.” Bitterness dripped from the admission. “I was only fifteen, so he became my guardian. He would run the business until I came of age, but what he did was run it into the ground. He also threw me out.”

She sucked in a breath. “Why would he do that?”

“Greed,” Deacon said emphatically. “He was always so envious of my father. Their father had favored his eldest, and my uncle James was the son who got hand-me-downs and leftovers. James was bitter. He also had a massive gambling problem and piss-poor business sense. He got rid of me, and then managed to lose every last penny his ancestors had worked so hard to earn.”

The picture Deacon painted was so awful Lana reached out to touch his chest. She pressed her palm to his heart, feeling each erratic beat rapping against her flesh. “Where did you go?”

“Wherever I could make money.”

She hesitated. “Have you kidnapped other people before?”

“A few. Not to be callous, but most of them deserved it. Normally I’m hired for mercenary work—raiding vil lages, extracting relief workers from hot areas. Sometimes the jobs are legal, other times they aren’t.”

His reply offered no apology, and Lana wasn’t sure it deserved one.

She suddenly imagined a fifteen-year-old Deacon living on the streets, scrounging to feed and clothe himself.

She couldn’t even fathom how he’d managed to survive.

She’d been fortunate enough to grow up with financially secure parents who loved and cherished her.

What would she have done if her parents died and Uncle Donald had disowned her?

Would she have turned to a dangerous lifestyle the way Deacon had?

“And you survived,” she said quietly, stroking the hot skin of his chest. “Whatever you did in the past ensured you stayed alive. But now…”

“But now nothing. I may have survived, but my choices have pretty much sucked every last drop of humanity out of me, Lana.”

“I don’t believe that.”

“It’s true.” His hand covered hers, slowly removing her fingers from his skin. “I have nothing to give to a child, a wife. There’s no goodness left in me, and you, our baby, deserve a good life.”

“You are good,” she disagreed. “You protected us this whole time. You kept us alive. How can you not see that?”

With methodical motions, he disentangled himself from their embrace and rose from the bed. His nudity brought a spark of desire, which fizzled the second he continued speaking.

“You deserve more than I could ever give you,” he said hoarsely. “And your family will give you everything I can’t. They’ll help you take care of this baby. They’ll make sure nothing bad ever happens to either of you.”

My family can’t be a father to this child, she wanted to argue, but the objection got stuck in her throat. He wouldn’t hear it anyway. Deacon Holt had obviously decided what kind of man he was years ago, and nothing she could say was going to sway him.

As he bent down to retrieve his boxers, she stared at the sleek, sculpted lines of his body, the classically handsome planes of his face. She could see it now, his upbringing, his roots. He might deny it, but he’d inherited his mother’s grace, his father’s polish.

And maybe nothing she said would get through to him, she thought, as she watched him get dressed, but perhaps words weren’t the solution here.

Perhaps what she really needed to do was show him.

Show him that he did indeed have some decency left inside him.

Show him that he wasn’t a robot, but a living, breathing human being with a capacity for greatness.

A man strong enough to be a father to their baby.

* * *

Captain Jim Kelley had just hopped into one of the nondescript Town Cars of the security detail when a satellite phone was thrust into his hands. The soldier who handed him the phone wore a blank look, shrugging as if to say, I have no clue what’s up.

Stifling a sigh, Jim signaled for the driver to go and raised the phone to his ear. “Captain Kelley,” he barked.

“Kelley,” came Colonel Keaton’s sharp voice.

Jim’s sigh reached the surface. Damn. This didn’t sound good.

He hoped the colonel wasn’t sending Delta Company on a last-second assignment or something.

Jim and his crew had just spent the past two weeks providing additional security to the Secretary of Defense, who’d been meeting with various South American leaders to discuss the arms trade.

He’d been looking forward to heading back to his Georgetown home, cracking open a cold beer and sitting on the couch for a few days.

The colonel’s next words, however, sent a flicker of surprise through him. “I’ve got your mother on the line. I’m patching her through.”

And then Keaton’s voice faded and was replaced by his mother’s urgent, “Jim, are you there?”

Jim instantly tensed. A few days ago, one of the men in Delta Company had been messing around on the internet and had discovered a weeks-old news article about Jim’s father.

About the fact that six women had come forward claiming to be Senator Kelley’s mistresses.

As expected, Jim had been livid, but he hadn’t had a chance to call his mother.

Now, hearing her voice, that anger returned full force.

“I’m here.” His voice cracked slightly. “I heard what happened, Mom. I’m so sorry.”

She gasped. “You know about Lana?”

“Lana?” Unease crawled up his spine. “I was referring to Dad.”

“Oh.”

“What are you talking about? What’s happened to Lana?”

“She’s gone, Jimmy.” An unmistakable sob ripped through the line.

Jim’s entire body went frozen with shock. His sister was gone? What the hell did that mean? He listened as his mother cried on the other end, fear rising inside him.

“Mom, what do you mean she’s gone? Where is she?

” For a second, he wondered if Lana had done something crazy, like hop a plane to Africa to help children with AIDS.

He could totally see her doing that. Lana’s heart was bigger than a small country, and despite her sweet disposition, she did get stubborn and wild every now and then.

But apparently not now, he realized in dismay, as his mother said, “She’s been kidnapped.”

Jim felt lightheaded. “What?”

He could barely keep up with his mother’s panic-driven words, but he got the gist of it.

Lana had disappeared in Paris and was being held hostage by Hank Kelley’s enemies.

Relief coursed through him when his mother explained that Hank had spoken to Lana several times, but the relief transformed into rage when she described the DVD and photograph that had been delivered to the ranch.

“But she’s alive,” he ground out, sheer fury coating his throat like sulfuric acid.

“We think so,” his mother said with an anguished whimper.

“Cole deduced from the video that she might be in D.C., but we’re not sure.

And then last night there were reports of gunfire in a neighborhood near Stanton Park.

Federal agents searched every inch of the neighborhood and didn’t find a thing. Jimmy, we don’t know where she is.”

His mother’s distress was like a knife to the heart. He’d always done his best to keep his mom happy, especially since his father didn’t seem interested in doing so, but right now, he felt totally and completely helpless.

“There’s more,” his mother added. “The kidnappers called again, and they want to set up an exchange.”

“Money?”

“No. They want your father. I’ve been trying to get through to you for days now. I don’t know what to do. I don’t trust these people, and I’m beginning to think they’re never going to let my baby go. Nothing about this exchange makes sense, Jimmy.”

“You’re right.”

Everything his mother had just told him succeeded in heightening the anger rolling in his gut. Of course this was about his father. Hank Kelley’s recklessness and insensitivity was always at the root of every problem this family ever encountered.

“Where is Dad now?” he asked coldly.

“Maple Cove. He’s staying with Cole.” Sarah paused. “People are trying to kill him.”

Jim almost muttered “good,” but quickly tamped down the cruel thought. He didn’t want to see his father dead. No matter how much heartache Hank Kelley had caused over the years, he was still Jim’s father.

And, as a dutiful son, he was going to come home and clean up his daddy’s mess.

“Are you at the mansion?” he asked his mother.

“No, I’m staying at Vivienne’s house in Martha’s Vineyard.”

“Good. Stay there. And as of this moment, I’m arranging for a guard to come stay with you.” Before she could protest, he hurried on in a brisk tone. “I’ll fly to Maple Cove tonight. I’ll take care of everything, okay, Mom?”

“Just be careful. Please, promise to take care of yourself.”

“I will.” His jaw hardened. “And don’t worry, I’m going to find Lana and bring her home.”

Among other things…

He decided not to mention that. His mother was distraught enough as it was. No need to worry her further.

But he had no intention of letting this end simply with Lana’s safe return. Because nobody, nobody, was going to kidnap his sister and live to tell about it.

Jim would make sure of that.