Page 30 of The Captive (The Kelley Legacy #5)

L ana did her best to avoid looking at Deacon during the drive to Montana. Didn’t say a word, either. Because really, what was the point? He’d said everything that needed to be said last night, after he’d reached into her chest, ripped out her heart and crushed it to dust between his cruel fingers.

His words refused to leave her mind, though. I don’t want a damned baby…I don’t want to be married to a spoiled young heiress who lives in a damn dream world.

Was that truly what he thought of her? That she was spoiled?

Living in a dream world? The former didn’t trouble her as much as the latter.

What was so wrong with believing she and Deacon could have a future?

He’d rescued her from Le Clair, kept her safe this entire time and if he’d asked—heck, even if he didn’t ask—she would have done everything possible to make sure he wasn’t punished for his role in this abduction.

He was the father of her baby, after all.

But he didn’t want to be.

Glancing out the window, she focused on the mountains in the distance, but the familiar sight didn’t soothe her. Soon she would be home with her family.

And soon Deacon would be gone.

“We should be there in a couple of hours.”

Deacon’s voice sounded rough, rusty even. He hadn’t said a single word to her in eight hours.

“Uh-huh,” she said dully.

She heard him let out a heavy breath. “Lana…I know you don’t want to understand it, but—”

“Oh, I understand perfectly!” she interrupted.

Before she could stop it, the pain and regret and anger she’d been harboring all morning exploded like a grenade.

“You think I’m spoiled, you think I’m a foolish idealist, you don’t give a damn about our baby and you want nothing to do with me.

Is there something else I’m not understanding? ”

He went deathly quiet, and she noticed the flicker of anguish in his eyes.

Good, let him be upset. “That’s what I thought,” she muttered.

Nearly twenty minutes passed before the excruciating silence in the vehicle was broken again.

“Damn it,” Deacon swore.

She glanced over and saw him peering at the rearview mirror. Another curse hissed out of his mouth.

Alarm trickled inside her. “What’s wrong?”

“We’re being followed.”

The stretch of highway they were on had been deserted all morning, so when Lana turned to look at the side mirror, she immediately noticed the white van behind them.

“It could be nobody,” she offered.

No sooner had the words exited her mouth than the van picked up speed, now hugging their bumper.

Deacon slammed his foot on the gas pedal and the pickup hurtled forward. The van matched the pace.

“Damn,” Deacon mumbled again.

Lana held her belly protectively as they sped down the two-lane road, the white van continuing its pursuit.

The highway was one long stretch with no curves in the distance, but the faster Deacon drove, the more panicked Lana became.

The driver behind them wasn’t making any move to run them off the road, but stayed on their tail like a thoroughbred straining to close in on the front-runner.

“What do we do?” Lana demanded.

“We try to make it to the next exit and lose them then.”

Deacon’s plan erupted in flames as the screech of tires filled the air and a black SUV suddenly launched out from behind the white van and sped alongside them.

Heart thudding wildly, Lana peered at the windows of the SUV, but she couldn’t see through the tint. Not that there was much doubt about who it was. Le Clair’s men had been driving similar nondescript vehicles since they’d first abducted her.

Deacon released another wild expletive. “Get your head down,” he snapped.

She obeyed instantly, ducking down and keeping her head in her lap. They hit a pothole and her butt fully lifted off the seat from the force. Deacon kept driving, flooring the gas, but the SUV beside them was faster.

Lana peeked over and her heart lodged in her throat when she saw the SUV overpower them. The wind shrieked through the window she’d left a crack open, as Deacon drove at a furious pace, and then the crunch of metal had her flying into the door. The SUV had hit them!

Deacon worked valiantly at trying to control the pickup, but the truck lurched and rocked from each vicious slam.

Fear paralyzed her limbs, while her pulse drummed loudly in her ears.

She wasn’t sure how long Deacon would be able to keep going, and just as the thought entered her mind, the scent of burnt rubber filled her nostrils.

A blur of black flew past her peripheral vision and suddenly the SUV wound up in front of them, blocking both lanes as it came to a jarring stop.

Deacon slammed on the brakes, and she would’ve gone flying through the windshield if not for the seat belt.

But her head did connect with the glove compartment, and Lana saw stars for several long seconds.

She blinked wildly, drawing in gulps of air.

A car door slammed, and despite the ringing in her ears, she heard footsteps approaching their vehicle.

A second later, her door ripped open, somebody unbuckled her seat belt and she was pulled from the car and thrown into the dusty shoulder of the highway. She instantly cradled her belly rather than breaking the fall, and her forehead bounced off the gravel and sent a streak of pain through her.

A pair of black boots entered her line of vision. When she raised her head, a wave of complete misery consumed her.

“Missed me?” Le Clair asked cheerfully.

* * *

Goddamn O’Neal. As he was being hauled out of the truck, Deacon had no illusions about how Le Clair and his men had found them. Shane O’Neal had evidently given them up. Hell, the bastard had probably even put a GPS transmitter in the damn truck.

So much for the tight-knit mercenary community.

The moment Deacon’s boots connected with solid ground, a fist connected with his stomach, making him double over. He glanced up to see Kilo winding his arm again, and then he gasped for air as his kidney took a vicious hit.

“That,” came Le Clair’s hard voice, “was for all the trouble you’ve caused me, Delta.”

Breathing through the pain, Deacon met Le Clair’s empty gray eyes. “How much?” he demanded.

“How much did it cost me to retrieve you?” Le Clair said with a knowing smile.

“The original price on your head was fifty grand—I figured that would catch some attention when I spread it over the mercenary grapevine. But your friend O’Neal, I was surprised by how persuasive his negotiation skills were. We settled for seventy-five.”

Seventy-five thousand bucks. Good to know how much money his fellow soldier was willing to defect for.

“More?” Kilo asked his boss in an indifferent tone, curling his fist again.

“No, we’ll save the rest of Delta’s punishment for later.” Le Clair clapped his hands. “Tie them up and get them in the van.”

Relief rippled through him when he noticed Oscar approach with Lana.

Although faint smears of blood covered her forehead, she looked unharmed.

Their eyes locked, and the hurt and anger he’d seen on her face since last night had vanished, replaced with cold fear.

He wished he could reassure her, but as Kilo clamped his wrists together and wrapped a thin black cord around them, Deacon knew there was nothing he could say.

They were in Le Clair’s control again, and this time, there would be no escape.

“What are you going to do with us?” Lana asked in a shaky voice directed at Le Clair.

He smiled broadly. “I’m still debating the best way to kill you both.

Or should I say, the most entertaining way.

” He nodded in approval as Oscar tightened the cord around Lana’s wrists.

“You’ve really been a pain in the ass, princess.

I’m overwhelmed with anticipation at the thought of finally being rid of you. ”

“What about my father?” Desperation crept into her tone. “You said something about an exchange.”

“Funny you should ask. We’re on our way to meet your daddy right now.”

The look of shock on Lana’s face matched the one Deacon tried to hide. The deathly chill in his bones told him this was just another game, and Le Clair’s next words confirmed it.

“Rather admirable of your father to trade his life for yours, huh, princess?” Le Clair smirked. “Unfortunately, Daddy dearest isn’t very smart. If he were, he’d realize that the men he pissed off don’t care about his life. They’re eager for his death.”

Lana gasped. “You’re going to kill my father?” She swayed on her feet, looking close to fainting. “So this is all a trap? Make him think he’s going to give himself up for me, and then kill him? Kill all of us?”

“That’s about the gist of it.” Le Clair gestured to the white van, then nodded to Kilo and Oscar. “Get our passengers settled, boys.”

Deacon stiffened as Kilo dragged him toward the van.

This “exchange”…it was simply another word for bloodbath.

They would all be slaughtered—Hank Kelley, his daughter, Deacon himself.

His own death didn’t bother him. It was Lana’s.

The thought of watching her die sent pulses of rage to his blood.

It spread, heating his insides, squeezing his heart, until he could barely see straight.

No way. There was no damn way he would let Lana be killed.

As they neared the back of the van, Deacon took a breath, set his jaw and whirled around.

He launched him self at Kilo, barreling into the bigger man with such force they both went crashing to the ground.

Despite his bound wrists, he landed a hit to Kilo’s jaw, hard enough to split the man’s lip.

Blood spurted from the corner of Kilo’s mouth.

He spat it out, dark eyes blazing with ire.

Before Deacon could blink, he was on his back with Kilo’s fist in his gut.

“Enough with the games.” Irritation tinged Le Clair’s words. “Give it up, Delta. You’re not going anywhere.”