"Tell Olivia she can have the money."
There was a snort of laughter from the mysterious man. "Bring it to Apollo Street," he said. "Don't keep us waiting."
* * *
I stood in the bank manager's office and watched the look of surprise come over his face.
"Ten million in cash?" he questioned. "I can't just do that. We don’t have that kind of money on hand. We keep a limited stock in case of a robbery."
“Please. It’s very important that I make this withdrawal. It’s…crucial to my business,” I lied, not wanting to tip him off that anything was amiss.
Stress was coursing through my veins. I knew that with each passing minute without the money, Becca was in danger.
As I looked into the manager's eyes, I thought of where she could be. Was she injured? What had they done to her? And more to the point had that brute on the phone hurt her?
It must have been the desperation in my eyes, but I saw the manager hesitate for a second then rise out of his seat.
"I'll be right back," he said, disappearing out the door.
I sat for an unbearable few minutes expecting him to return with the police. I wouldn't even blame him for calling them. Me walking in here asking for ten million dollars in cash was suspicious as hell. But I also thought that if Olivia caught wind of the police's arrival, Becca would be dead in an instant.
Suddenly, I didn't view Olivia as my pain in the ass ex-wife; she was a deranged villain who was capable of anything. She wasn't the brightest woman I'd ever met, but right now she was sure as shit the craziest.
The sound of footsteps came from the hall, and I looked up just as the manager opened the door.
“I made a few calls,” he said. “I will have to have a truck brought in from another location. You'll have the cash within the hour.”
* * *
What did ten million dollars look like? If you were to ask me an hour ago, I would have told you it was a stack of cash as high as a building. It wasn't until it was placed in my hands that I realized just how innocuous it looked. Crammed into two large black cases, the money hung heavily from each of my hands.
How the fuck did my life end up like this? I thought as I stepped out of my car onto Apollo Street.
I didn't know what pissed me off the most, that Becca was in danger, or that Olivia was going to get her hands on my money?
It wasn't even the amount of cash that bothered me, it was the fact that she was winning.
She won't get away with this, I thought as I walked down the street.
Apollo Street was situated in the heart of the docks, a place I didn't even think Olivia would know about let alone enter. I scanned the buildings for any sign of life, but there appeared to be nothing and no one. I noticed a black Mercedes parked out front of an abandoned warehouse. As I approached and noticed a light on in an upstairs room, I realized it wasn't abandoned at all.
Pulling my phone out of my pocket, I dialed her number and waited. It rang out, and I hit redial. I called again but got the same response.
The bitch is playing games.
At last, on the third try she answered.
"Tell me you have the money."
"I have it," I told her. "I'm outside."
She hung up. From inside the building I could hear shuffling and the sound of metal doors slamming open and shut. A minute later, the steel grate that covered the entrance slid up to reveal a dark figure the size of a storm trooper. His face was almost entirely covered, but there was a hint of red cheeks beneath his scarf.
"Hand it over," his muffled voice ordered through his scarf.
"Take me to Becca first."
He paused for a second, staring deep into my eyes as though he was trying his best to threaten me. But I wasn't scared of him. I narrowed me eyes and refused to budge as the grip around the cases tightened. His eyes darted down to them, knowing what they held.
"You got it all?" he asked.
"All ten million."
His eyes widened.
"Just take me to Becca," I said. "Or you won't see a single cent."
He looked into my eyes one last time then nodded. "Come with me," he replied. "This way."
I followed him into the building that smelled like damp and decay. The walls were covered in mold and rust and the floors squelched beneath my feet.
Following him through a labyrinth of empty rooms, we eventually emerged in front of a service elevator, the kind you had to yank a huge metal grill across. My first thought was that it was a death trap.
"I'm not getting in that thing. We'll never get out."
"You want the girl, you get in."
I had no choice but to follow him and watch in horror as he pulled the grill across and locked us in. We rode up the building in silence until we reached the top floor. As soon as the doors clanked open, I caught the scent of Olivia's putrid perfume in the distance. It made me sick.
"This way," the meathead said and waved me through a heavy set of double doors.
As we entered, I became aware of signs of life. There was a heater plugged in, a small table with cups and a coffee machine resting on top along with an ashtray. The sound of someone sniffing caught my ear and I turned.
In the corner of the room sat Olivia. There were spots of blood running down the back of her fur coat, and she was holding a wad of toilet paper to her head.
"Your bitch girlfriend made me bleed," she seethed.
"She should have killed you," I replied, feeling a sense of pride in Becca. At least she wasn't going down without a fight. "Where is she?"
"Show me the money first."
I hurled the two cases at her angrily, and they landed at her feet with two loud thuds. Suddenly the injury to her head made a miraculous recovery and she forgot all about it.
"It's all there?" she gasped, dropping the toilet paper and falling to her knees to open the nearest case.
"Yeah, all your stinking money. It's there."
She opened the case, and I could see the greed shining in her eyes. She was mesmerized by the sight of the cash, and her mouth dropped open as she joyfully squealed.
"You got the cash," I said. "Do whatever the fuck you want with it. Fill your face with more plastic, top up your liver with champagne, fuck off to the other side of the planet. I don't care. Just show me Becca."
She looked up, disgusted, and slammed the case shut. "Is she really worth it?" she asked. "Is she really worth losing ten million dollars?"
"She's worth more than that. Unlike you."
Olivia grabbed the cases of cash, cradling them closer to her body. In that moment, she truly revealed herself as the callous, cruel bitch she really was. Her face morphed into that of a monster's, and her fingers clutching at the cases resembled beastly claws. She wasn't the attractive woman I used to know. She was barely even human.
"Becca's in there," she said, nodding her head toward a door at the back of the room. "Go get her."
I strode over to it, wasting no time in ripping it open. As I burst into the room, I saw her beside the window tethered to a chair wearing nothing but a blanket. There was a long river of dried blood traveling from her temple.
“Matthew!”
"Becca! Oh, God, Becca!" I ran to her, pulling at the ropes around her wrists and ankles.
"I thought you were never coming," she cried. "I thought I was going to die in here."
Becca
"Get these fucking ropes off me!" I cried, pulling at them.
Matthew's deft fingers worked at the knots, and the ropes fell to the floor.
"Shhh. It's okay," he assured me, holding me tight. "You're safe now. I'm going to take you home, okay?"
All I could do was cry and fall into his arms. For hours I'd been putting up a fight, been desperate to show I was no one's victim, especially not Olivia's. But now that I was safe and free, the emotion was too much to handle. It came flooding out of my exhausted body until I lay in a heap in his arms.
He saved me...Not just me
but the baby too.
"Come on. Let's get the hell out of here."
Wrapping the blanket around me, he lifted me into his arms and carried me from the room. As we exited, I waited to see Olivia's smug face. Without my restraints, I could tear her to pieces, but she was nowhere to be seen. And neither was her lackey. The stool she sat on lay on its side, an empty coffee cup on the ground beside it.
"Looks like they took off," Matthew said. "The fucking cowards."
I held onto him as tightly as my arms would allow as he carried me down through the building until I could see daylight filter in through the main entrance. The sun was shining on the sidewalk and the air was crisp. I breathed it in and felt the cool wind create a wave of goosebumps up my arm. A few yards away, I could see Matthew's car. Just a few more feet and I'd be warm and on my way home.
"Freeze!"
Suddenly there was the noise of running boots, of angry voices, and slamming car doors. The sidewalk was no longer covered in sunshine but flashing blue and red lights.
"Boston Police! Let the girl go!"
"No, you’ve got it wrong!"
"I said drop the girl!"
As I turned my head, I was aware of guns pointing at us as half a dozen officers ran toward me.
"Let the girl go and we won't shoot!"
"Let her go!"
"Drop her now!"
Matthew had no choice but to unravel his arms from around me and let me fall barefoot onto the snowy sidewalk. But as soon as my feet hit the ground, the nearest officer ran at me and scooped me up in his arms.
"Hey! What's going on? Let me go!"
But he wasn't listening but was intent on bundling me into the back of a waiting car.
"What are you doing?"
"It's okay. You're safe now," he told me as he closed the door over.
As he started the engine, I looked out the window just as two officers descended on Matthew, slapping cuffs on him as they pushed him onto the ground.
"What are you doing to him?" I cried. "He did nothing wrong. He saved me!"
"It's okay," the officer said, speaking to me in the rear-view mirror. "He won't get near you again."
* * *
I sat in shock in the interview room wearing an old pair of gray sweatpants and a cardigan that an officer had dragged out of lost and found. I felt ridiculous, but at least I was dressed.
"Here. It's not the best coffee in the world. But it's caffeinated and that's what matters, right?" said the friendly female detective as she took a seat across from me.
She barely looked older than I was, and with a fresh face and scraped back hair, she looked like your typical wholesome girl next door.
"I don't know what I'm doing here," I told her. "I don't understand what's happening."
"We got a call from his ex-wife that you were captured."
"I was!"
"By Matthew Banks."
"No, by her! He was the one who rescued me."
"Wait, what?" She looked down at her notes confused. "Are you sure about that?"
"Pretty freakin' sure."
She continued to scan her notes, the confusion in her eyes growing. "She claims he’s been grooming you since you were a child. That he's been having a relationship with you since you were twelve years old."
"Twelve! No! We've been seeing each other for a month, tops."
She frowned. "Okay," she said, grabbing a pen. "You're going to have to tell me everything from the beginning."
And I did, gladly. I told her about the threats, the photos, the emails. I told her about being taken from inside the house in the middle of the night by that bear of a man. I explained all about the ransom, the money Olivia said I could have if I lied. I told her about it all. Even me kicking Olivia off her stool.
I told the whole story in glorious Technicolor until the officer had no choice but to slam her notebook closed and let out a long sigh.
"You should be arresting Olivia. Not Matthew."
She shook her head and slurped on her coffee. "Okay," she said. "You can go, and so can Matthew. But stay close. We’ll need you both to testify against Olivia."
She led me from the room, and I shuffled out in my oversized sweatpants feeling hideous but grateful we were both leaving. I watched as the detective knocked on the door of the adjoining room before entering. Sitting at the table was Matthew on one side and a burly male detective on the other. She walked over to him and mumbled in his ear. The shock on his face was obvious. He mumbled something back, the two of them having a hushed argument. Eventually, the man stood up and released the cuffs from Matthew's wrists.
"You can go," he said. "My apologies, Mr. Banks. "
But Matthew wasn't listening, because he was running out of the room toward me.
"I told them everything!" I said against his chest. "You should have heard the things they were accusing you of." I wrapped my arms around him and held him tight until I could feel his heartbeat through his chest. "I want to get out of here," I told him. "I want to go home."
We turned to leave, hand in hand as Matthew bent down to kiss my cheek. "Let's go," he said. "I'm taking you home and I'm never taking my eyes off you."
"You'll take your eyes off her right now!" my father’s booming voice yelled. "And your fucking hands too."
We both spun around to see Dad at the end of the hallway. His eyes moved from our faces down to our clenched hands.
"Dad..."
"Get away from him." He stepped between us and pulled my hand away from Matthew's.
"You're not going anywhere but back to my house,” he yelled furiously, his face red with anger. “You're not going anywhere near this bastard again, you understand?"
Matthew
"Bob, please calm down," I said, but I may as well have been talking to the wall.
"Calm down?" he raged. "You two are all over the news! This is how I find out about you two! My best friend and my daughter? How could you do this to me?"
He stopped yelling and stood breathing heavily. The look on his face turned from anger to betrayal. "How could you do this to my little girl?"
His right hand was clenched at his side as though he was trying to fight back the urge to punch me. "How could you get her into trouble like this? The news said she'd been kidnapped. That she was held in a warehouse."
"Dad," Becca said softly, reaching out to him. "Matthew saved me. I don't know what would have happened if he hadn't arrived when he did."
He pushed her hand away and took a step back. "Do you know what they're saying about you two? Do you know what the rumors are? How could I have been so blind? How could I not have seen this?"
"Bob, I know what you must be thinking, but I love Becca. I love her more than I’ve ever loved anyone before."
"Love?" he spat. "Love!"
He lunged at me, but before his body could connect with mine, the female detective burst out of the room and pushed him away.
"Get back!" she ordered.
"I should tear your fucking head off, Matthew! You were supposed to be my friend. My best friend. I've known you for years. Decades! And you've done this to my daughter? I trusted you!"
The detective wrestled him away from us.
"Dad! We love each other!" Becca cried. "He never made me do anything I didn't want to. He never hurt me. Not once."
But he wasn't listening and continued to rant and yell, almost frothing at the mouth with anger.
"You need to calm down," the detective said. "If you don't, I'll sit your ass in a cell until you do."
"Dad, listen to her!"
Bob, at last, took a deep breath and relaxed. The detective dropped her hands from his arms and took a step back. "All right?" she asked.
"All right," he said and clapped his hands over his face as he tried to compose himself.
"I understand that you're angry, " I told him. "I get it. But you have to know that I love Becca. And she loves me."
He lowered his hands and looked me dead in the eye. "You rea
lly love her?"
"I do. I want to be with her. But without your blessing, I can't be."
Becca took my hand and glanced up at me. "Dad, please. I love him. I have for a long time. Won't you be happy for us?"
But he just shook his head, looking ready to explode. "No. You both betrayed my trust. Especially you, Matthew. You're fucking dead to me."
And with that, he walked away. We watched him leave knowing that it was all coming to a crashing end.
This wasn't supposed to happen.
This wasn't supposed to be how he found out!
"Bob, don't do this," I called. "Don't walk away. Stay for your daughter. Don't you want her to be happy?"
He stopped in his tracks and turned around. "She was perfectly happy before she started working for you! Before she ended up chained up in a fucking warehouse by your psycho ex-wife."
He stormed toward me, pointing his finger in my face as the detective raced to catch up to him.
“I should be the ever living shit out of you right here and now!”
"Dad, no!" Becca yelled.
Bob’s fist lashed out, and before I could stop her, Becca stepped between us as she tried to push Bob away. But his fist, aiming for face, was blocked by her body, and as a scuffle broke out, it landed just above her abdomen. She yelped as she staggered backward, clutching her ribs.
"Becca!" Bob cried. She doubled over in agony, sucking in air as she struggled to breathe. "Becca talk to me," he said, cradling her. "Tell me you're okay."
"Oh, God it hurts!" she cried.
"I didn't mean to hit you. I never meant to hurt you. You gotta believe me."
"The baby," she gasped, her hands clutching her stomach.
"The baby?" Bob asked, his face blanching as he looked up at me.
"I'm pregnant," she said, forcing herself to stand up straight. Her eyes met Bob's, then mine. "Matthew..." she began, her hands clutching her stomach. "Matthew, I'm having your baby."
The detective who had been trying her best to stay out of the drama as best as she could now leaped into action.
Knocked Up by Daddy’s Best Friend Page 17