Эль Кеннеди – Missing Mother-To-Be (страница 8)

His discomfort grew. She sounded so disappointed, a tad judgmental, too, and it was the judgment that raised his hackles. What did this woman know about poverty? Had she ever lived on the streets? Sat on a sidewalk holding out a tin can, begging for coins? She lived in splendor now, but had that splendor ever been taken away? He knew all about the life Lana Kelley led. The Beverly Hills mansion, the Montana ranch, the numerous vacation homes. He’d lived it, too. He’d been the son of a shipping tycoon, for Chrissake.

And he’d lost everything. Every last thing, save for the clothes on his back and the small duffel his uncle had let him pack before kicking him out on the street.

Lana Kelley didn’t know what life without money was. She’d never had to fight for her own survival.

And she had no right to judge him.

“Put on some warmer clothing.” He moved stiffly to the door. “You must be hungry after that long flight. I’ll bring you some food.”

“Wait.”

His hand froze on the door handle. Slowly, he turned around. Her face was pale, her eyes weary with defeat.

“I don’t care what your motives are,” she said in a miserable voice. “But if you want money, I’ll give you money. I promise, whatever—what did you call him? Le Clair?—well, whatever he’s paying you, I’ll double it. Just help me get out of here and I’ll make sure you have all the money you want.”

He stifled a sigh. Double the pay? The offer might have been tempting, if not for the fact that Le Clair would hunt him down and murder him if he ever defected.

He said as much to Lana, eyeing her unhappily. “Le Clair is a very dangerous man. A man you don’t cross. As much as I want to help you, I—”

“You don’t want to help me,” she cut in angrily. “If you did, you wouldn’t have kidnapped me. You wouldn’t have—” She stopped abruptly, a suspicious expression filling her face. “Did you know who I was, that night in the Louvre? Were you planning this, even then?”

Deacon wanted to lie. It bothered him that his first instinct was to protect this woman, even from the ugly truth. But although he was many things, a liar he wasn’t.

“I knew,” he replied gruffly.

She blinked, and the tears sticking to her lashes broke free and slid down her smooth cheeks. “You knew,” she echoed.

“Yes.” He found himself giving a hurried explanation. “But I didn’t plan for us to… be intimate. I was only supposed to watch you.” His voice cracked, and he cleared his throat, annoyed with the sign of weakness. “But then you spoke to me, and… well, it just happened.”

Her tears fell harder. “I can’t believe this. I can’t…” She looked at him with tearstained cheeks, suddenly appearing much younger than her twenty-four years. “Don’t let them hurt me,” she finally whispered, her arms encircling her own waist and tightening over her stomach. “Just promise me that.”

He tore his gaze from her and turned the doorknob. “I’ll make sure nothing happens to you, Lana. I promise.” Then he slid out the door and, ignoring the ache in his chest, locked it behind him.

Chapter 4

Lana’s first night as an official hostage went by without incident. After Deacon left her in the back bedroom, she’d changed into jeans and a fleece hooded sweatshirt, as well as the thick wool socks her kidnappers had purchased for her. Then she’d sat on the narrow bed and catalogued every item in her suitcase. Clothes, toiletries, sewing kit, nail kit. The two kits had been confiscated by Cold Eyes, whose name was apparently Charlie. With two brothers in the military, she was familiar with the military alphabet, which Le Clair had evidently decided to employ for code names. For some reason, though, Le Clair wasn’t hiding his real name from her. Almost as if he believed he were invincible, that even if she knew his true identity, it wouldn’t make a damn bit of difference.

That worried her, though not as much as the fact that none of the kidnappers bothered to disguise their faces from her. Did that mean they planned to kill her? Or, like Le Clair, were these men confident that knowing what they looked like wouldn’t make a difference once their assignment ended?

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?”

His mouth opened, then closed, his strong throat bobbing as he swallowed repeatedly. Her question seemed to bring him great distress, which only piqued her curiosity. No, it wasn’t curiosity, she quickly amended. She didn’t want to know a damn thing about this man. But if she could figure out what made him tick, she might be able to use it to her advantage.