by Chris Taylor
The roof was up, but as the car reached the street light, he caught a glimpse of a small, pale face and a cloud of dark hair before the driver sped away. His body tightened in anticipation. This was going to be so much fun.
CHAPTER TWENTY-THREE
Sunday, January 28, 11:03 p.m.
Thoughts of Lane and Allison and her father crowded Zara’s mind. She was oblivious to the steady stream of late-night traffic around her. Her only need was to get as far away from her home as possible.
It was a home she’d lived in all her life. The only home she’d known—and yet, tonight, she realized she no longer recognized most of its inhabitants. She’d listened to her stepmother’s casual admissions and her father’s shame-faced explanations and had shook her head in horror at what she’d failed to see right beneath her nose.
How could she not have known about Allison’s drug habit? Why had she just excused the woman’s erratic behaviour, the mood swings, the surliness as merely a poor attitude from a woman who had never taken to the role of her stepmother?
Zara prided herself on being an intelligent, observant person. It was inconceivable that she’d failed to see what was right before her eyes. Her stepmother was a drug addict: An egotistical, selfish, irresponsible drug addict. What was worse, it was obvious her father knew. Had always known. And had done nothing about it. He hadn’t even felt the need to tell his adult daughter.
The anger that resonated through Zara threatened to overwhelm her. Heat seared her cheeks and pressure built up behind her eyes. She blinked hard to keep back the tears.
Crying would solve nothing and she refused to feel sorry for herself. Her father had made a choice when he remarried more than ten years ago. She’d tried so hard to remain unaffected; to be happy that her father had once again found love. She only wished she’d had memories of her real mother to cling to. It would have made it easier to accept that her father had more than moved on.
Over the years, his career had flourished. Not long after he’d acquired a new wife, he also gained a new daughter. He was happy, his life was enviable. At least, that’s how it had appeared. Now, she realized all that had been a smokescreen: A carefully crafted, immaculately thought-out pretense. And in one fell swoop, the façade had come crumbling down.
She wished she could feel satisfaction at how far her stepmother had fallen, but she couldn’t. Her father was obviously hurting and Zara’s heart became heavy at the thought of how the truth about Allison might affect little Brittany. Zara didn’t take even the tiniest amount of pleasure from the knowledge Allison’s life would never be the same again.
She thought of Lane and longed for his comfort—to go to him; to rest her head against his broad shoulder. She yearned for him to put his arms around her and draw her close against his chest. She wanted to pour out her hurts and disappointments and have him soothe them all away.
It scared her a little how quickly she’d come to rely on him. She wanted to turn to him in her hour of need, even though she’d barely known him a couple of days. It felt something like forever. They had an unfathomable connection—something magical—like they’d met in another time.
He felt it, too. She knew he did. She hoped there could be something between them when this whole sorry mess was over.
Less than ten minutes later, she pulled into the empty car park near The Gap. The nearby streetlights threw dark shadows across the asphalt, but they didn’t discourage her. Cutting the engine, she opened the door and breathed in the salty air.
Years ago, the place had been notorious for the number of suicides that had occurred off the ledge of the surrounding cliffs, but for Zara, their sheer beauty and the sound of the waves crashing on the rocks far below had always soothed her. She closed the car door and picked her way carefully through the darkness, trying to use the sounds and her fond, familiar memories of the place to help her recover from the night’s ordeal.
Of course, she could no longer get close to the edge. That had been barricaded off long ago in an effort to deter people from jumping, but she slipped off her sandals and made her way as close as she could and sat down amongst the tufts of grass and rock.
The moon was only half-full, but it hung golden and glorious over the ocean. Sparkles of moonlight caught the black of the waves and sent them dancing. A slight breeze caressed her skin and goose bumps broke out on her bare arms. She shivered a little and rubbed at them.
She thought once again of Lane and the sleepless nights ahead of him. He’d be busy forming a team of officers to locate and face off against the kidnapper. They’d been given a slight reprieve, but she was certain there would still be plenty to be done before the deadline arrived. She sent up a silent prayer that Olivia would be returned to her family unharmed.
Well, as unharmed as one could hope after enduring such a terrifying ordeal. Her heart went out to the little girl and she sent up another prayer of thanks that her sister had been spared the same agony.
She wondered about Lane’s family. She knew so little about him and yet it felt like she knew everything. Everything that was important, anyway. He was kind and caring and compassionate. The way he was with her sister melted her heart. He was also smart and loyal and had the respect of his colleagues. To top it off, he was gorgeous. His eyes were the color of wheatgrass half-ripe in a wide, vast field. Green and brown-flecked, they really were the window to his soul.
She smiled wistfully at her poetic romanticism and wished life wasn’t so darn complicated. She’d been cruising along with her life mapped out before her and until she met Lane, she couldn’t honestly have said she was discontent. She had a family she loved and who loved her in return—well, maybe not Allison, but Zara had almost resigned herself to the fact her stepmother would never embrace her. She’d given up trying to please her and had buried herself in her work. It never failed to lift her spirits.
She thought of her job and the well-constructed path she’d created for herself. She’d always been confident and knew exactly where she was going and what she wanted to achieve in her life. It now shocked her to realize she hadn’t spent even a minute over the course of the weekend thinking about her job and the files that were piled up high on her desk.
Not that the weekend just gone was normal. In fact, she spent most Saturdays and Sundays bent over her desk at the office, trying to catch up on the myriad of things she hadn’t found time for during the week. She couldn’t even remember why she’d been home when her father had taken the call from Ellie Munro about Olivia’s abduction. He’d called her into his office to tell her. Not that the reasons mattered. Fate kept her home. If it hadn’t, she’d never have met Lane.
Lane.
Strong, determined, brave: He was the man who made her heart flutter and her thoughts scatter in new directions. Despite the horror of the circumstances in which they’d met, the thought of never knowing him had now become too awful to contemplate.
With a sigh, she pushed those negative thoughts aside and once again, longed for the next two nights and Olivia’s ordeal to be over. For entirely selfish reasons, she wanted the next time she met with Lane to be carefree and happy—to have nothing to do with illegal drugs, outlaw motorcycle gangs or kidnappings. She yearned for the two of them to have a fresh start, one free of the complications and misunderstandings that had marred their encounters thus far.
Her shoulders slumped and she let out another sigh. She whispered a little prayer that they would be given the chance she hoped for. She couldn’t put into words what she was feeling for Lane, but it was something she’d never felt before. The thought both thrilled and terrified her.
Determination surged through her. She was through with playing it safe. Every waking moment until now had been given over to her father and her career. As much as she loved her job, it couldn’t keep her safe and snug at night or make her feel warm and fluttery all over.
She was nearly thirty. How much longer would she leave her life on hold? It was time for her live.
&n
bsp; She glanced at her watch illuminated by the moonlight. It was nearly midnight. After what seemed like an eternally long day, her body was weary though her mind refused to quit. She needed to go home and try to sleep. After all, she had work the next day.
The exchange between Olivia and the ransom money was supposed to happen early on Tuesday morning. With a bit of luck, the day after that might be the start of the new beginning she prayed for. The first day of the rest of her life.
* * *
Draco took a drag on his cigarette, careful to keep the glow of its tip concealed behind his fingers. Zara Dowton sat with her knees drawn up to her chest pondering the night. The waves pounded the rocks below her.
His cock urged him to take her now. It was way past late. The Gap was deserted. No one would know. Well, no one except Allison and she was hardly likely to tell.
The detective’s raid on Draco’s home had infuriated him, but there was nothing he could do about that. The cops did as they pleased. Somehow, they’d connected him to Boris and the hideout. He should have let things lie for just a little while longer. Allison would have come up with the cash sooner or later. She always did. Not that her tab had ever been this high, but he was confident she’d make good on her debts.
But then, she’d disappeared. His sources at the airport told him she’d flown interstate. He’d gotten nervous, edgy, unsure. It wasn’t like him to be off balance and it made him angry. That’s when he decided she needed an incentive to return.
The kidnapping plot had been a stroke of genius. It would have gone just as he’d planned if that fuckwit Boris hadn’t botched it. He was supposed to have nabbed Allison’s daughter. Word would have reached her that her little girl was in trouble and she’d have coughed up the money without a whimper.
The plan had been foolproof. Draco had even counted on the fact the Attorney General and his wife wouldn’t want any adverse publicity. They wouldn’t want Allison’s dirty little secret coming to light. Going public would ruin everything. They would have quietly paid up and everyone would have been happy. And it would have worked, if Boris hadn’t fucked it up.
Renewed anger stirred hot in his veins and he drew hard on the cigarette. Zara turned slightly, hugging her arms around her. The movement pulled the fabric of her dress tight. The moonlight illuminated her silhouette, delineating the delicate curve of her jaw and the generous swell of her breasts. Once again, blood rushed to his groin. His cock hardened almost painfully.
Yet again, his body urged him to nab her. With her head turned away from him, toward the ocean, he could creep up behind her and haul her back against him with his arm around her throat. She wouldn’t have an inkling about what would happen next. The knife he always kept in his pocket would provide further deterrence. Besides, she was such a featherweight, it would take no effort at all to subdue her.
He toyed with the thought, liking it more and more. Moving in his seat until he found a more comfortable position, he pulled open the snap on his jeans and slid down the zipper to better accommodate the burgeoning swell of his cock. His hand caressed his erection and he sighed softly in pleasure.
The woman in front of him glanced at her watch. He tensed. Moments later, she stood and slipped on her sandals. Shaking out the skirt of her dress, she turned and headed toward him, picking her way back to her car.
He grimaced and debated his next move. If he was going to take her now, he had to be quick. It would be harder if she made it to her vehicle. She was closing the gap between them. Twenty feet. Then fifteen. Draco’s heart pounded in anticipation. Quickly, he tugged up his zipper and readied himself for action.
Glancing in the rearview mirror, he spied headlights coming up the hill behind him. He froze for an instant and then turned back to Zara. His lips thinned in annoyance. She’d reached her car and opened the door.
Cursing loudly, he thumped the steering wheel.
He’d missed his chance.
CHAPTER TWENTY-FOUR
Tuesday, January 30, 5:43 a.m.
Lane could already feel the tension headache that stabbed behind his eyes. The sun had barely graced the horizon. His men had been in position hours earlier, waiting for the moment of Vukovic’s arrival.
He’d run a check through the Roads and Maritime Services database and had discovered a hotted up Harley Davidson motorcycle and an early eighties model Ford F100 in the name of Boris Vukovic. He’d also run a check on Vukovic’s wife, but that had come up blank.
He couldn’t imagine Vukovic arriving on the motorcycle with Olivia in tow and the biker would have to be plain stupid to think her mother would be willing to hand over the cash without her being present. Lane had taken a punt that Vukovic would turn up in the Ford.
The more Lane thought about the second ransom demand, the more obvious it became that Draco wasn’t involved, or if he’d been involved in the earlier demand, he wasn’t involved any longer. Lane surmised the Redbacks’ president had discovered he had the wrong girl and had decided to recover his money by other means. From what Allison had said, it appeared she was on friendly terms with her supplier and she appeared as surprised as they were that the man had taken such drastic steps.
Maybe Draco had second thoughts and had backed away from the whole kidnapping scenario? Another possibility emerged: Maybe he’d left it to Vukovic to get rid of Olivia and Vukovic had decided to make it worth his while?
These questions and more had been canvassed by the joint taskforce. They’d gathered at the station for most of the previous day formulating their plan of attack and discussing all possible worst scenarios.
Ellie had told them Vukovic demanded the ransom be dropped off only by her and at the agreed meeting place. Some time yesterday, Lane had filled Clayton and Ellie in on the plan. Right now, they sat tensely inside an unmarked police vehicle about fifteen yards away from the assigned spot. Clayton was to lie low when Vukovic appeared.
Clayton’s eldest brother, Tom Munro, a veteran police negotiator had also been brought in and now formed part of the team of officers who paced nervously in the breaking dawn, awaiting Vukovic’s arrival.
Lane had cleared the immediate area and undercover officers, posing as members of the general public, appeared sporadically at the gas pumps to fill up their cars. Lane didn’t know how long Vukovic would case the place, but if he had any brains at all, he’d turn up ahead of time to scout out the place.
Lane had gone to a great deal of trouble to make the gas station look as normal as possible, even down to the young constable who manned the cash register with his baseball cap on backwards and his best bored expression on his face.
Glancing at his watch, Lane’s gut clenched. The appointed hour was almost upon them.
A moment later, as Lane anticipated, Vukovic’s pickup truck appeared around the corner and parked on the far side of the gas station. Lane held his breath. The car door opened and the biker emerged.
As instructed, Clayton flattened himself across the back seat and Ellie climbed out of the unmarked car. She slowly approached the man who claimed he held their daughter captive. Nerves jangled in Lane’s gut and weighed down his limbs. He sent up a silent prayer that things would turn out right. From across the other side of the road, the early morning air carried the sound of voices. Vukovic’s was the loudest.
“Where’s the money?”
“In the men’s restroom, like you said,” Ellie replied, as instructed.
“You come alone?”
Ellie nodded emphatically. “Of course. Where’s my daughter?”
Vukovic looked at her and smirked. “All in good time.”
“No, I want to see her. I want to know she’s all right.”
Vukovic stared Ellie down. Lane held his breath. After what seemed like a lifetime, the biker nodded and headed back toward the Ford. Pulling open the trunk, he bent over and lifted something out.
Olivia Munro wobbled on her feet as Vukovic held her upright. She squinted against the rising sun. “Mommy? I’m so
sorry, Mommy! I’m so sorry!”
Ellie appeared unsteady on her feet, but somehow held it together.
“I’m here, baby, I’m here.” Ellie took a step toward her.
Vukovic pulled a gun and held it to Olivia’s head. “Not so fast. I want to check the money, first.”
Ellie froze and put a hand to her mouth.
Lane thanked God they’d taken the time to put every dollar of the two hundred grand of marked bills supplied by Clayton and the AG into the gym bag they had been left behind the restroom door.
Vukovic frog-marched Olivia to the side of the gas station where the restrooms were located. They disappeared inside and Lane held his breath. They were the longest seconds of his life.
Vukovic reappeared with the bag in his hands. A smile tugged at his lips. He shoved Olivia toward her mother.
“She’s all yours. It was nice doin’ business.”
The next few moments were a blur of screaming and shouting and the sound of gunfire. Heavily armed TRG officers burst onto the scene with an arsenal of weaponry trained on the biker. Within moments, Lane and his team had Vukovic facedown on the ground, cuffed and under arrest.
It all happened so quickly, Lane barely had time to register that it was over. His breath came fast. Relief poured through him and it was his turn to tremble.
Olivia Munro was safe.
CHAPTER TWENTY-FIVE
Tuesday, January 30, 11:49 a.m.
Lane couldn’t remember ever feeling wearier. After spending more hours than he could count, preparing for the confrontation with Vukovic, he could barely remember what his bed felt like and even though the interception had gone off without a hitch, he’d still spent the rest of the morning debriefing and completing a mountain of paperwork. Boris Vukovic was in custody. Draco Jovanovic soon would be. Olivia Munro was home, where she belonged. All in all, it had been a good day’s work.