The Ransom (The Munro Family Series Book 7)

by Chris Taylor

  “Eat. I don’t want your father accusing me of mistreating you.”

  Zara bit back a retort. As if kidnapping and holding her captive for more than sixteen hours didn’t constitute mistreatment. Still, his words gave her hope that perhaps he had no intention of harming her, provided the ransom money was paid.

  She took a bite of the Big Mac and forced a morsel past her dry lips. She swallowed without chewing. She supposed she ought to be thankful to Draco for bothering to offer her food, but somehow, she couldn’t bring herself to feel any gratitude.

  Her father would be going out of his mind. First, Brittany and Olivia and now her. She couldn’t imagine what he was going through. Well, she could. She’d just been through it herself.

  She felt the weight of Draco’s gaze on her and looked up. He stared at her from across the room, his expression hooded. A few moments later, he pushed back his chair and came toward her.

  She froze. Her heart skipped a beat and then pounded against her chest. Turning her head away, she forced another bite of food into her mouth and did her best to look nonchalant.

  He kept coming. She stoically ignored him and held her gaze steadfastly focused on the floor. Jean-clad legs stopped in front of her, his crotch in line with her face. His hand moved to caress the bulge now evident through his jeans.

  Fear tightened her throat and she couldn’t even swallow the tiny piece of meat that was still in her mouth. She shrank back against the couch in an effort to put more distance between them. Her efforts earned her a mirthless chuckle.

  “What, not interested? Your stepmother would have been begging for it by now. It was always best when she was high,” he added. “She’d take it from anyone and everyone and come begging to me for more.” He rubbed his erection again. “It still gets me hard thinking about her full of cock.”

  Zara’s mouth gaped open. Shock trembled through her limbs and nausea gripped her belly. Draco reached out and ran a surprisingly soft finger down her cheek. She winced and turned her face away, hating the tears of helplessness and despair that sprang immediately to her eyes. With his finger and thumb on her chin, he turned her head back toward him. His eyebrows rose in surprise.

  “Tears? Really? If you’re anything like your stepmother, you’re going to enjoy the next part. I’ve been looking forward to it all morning.”

  Zara stared him down. “Don’t touch me. I’ll scream,” she threatened, her words sounding much bolder than she felt.

  Draco chuckled again. “Scream all you like. I kind of like the whole idea of taking you spitting and fighting. Besides, there’s not a single bloke outside this room who will come in and interfere, scream or no scream.”

  His hand slid from her chin to her chest and paused to fondle her breast. Her breath halted and then came fast. She bit down on her lip to stifle the groan of fear.

  She could tell from the look in his eyes that her fear excited him. With all the courage she could muster, she held his gaze with her shoulders drawn back and her head held high. She was rewarded with a flicker of admiration in the blood-shot depths of his eyes.

  “You’re a feisty one, I’ll give you that.” He shook his head, another smile hovering around his lips. “Let’s see how feisty you are when I have my cock buried deep inside you. I bet that’ll take some of the fight out of you. And that’s before I invite a few of the boys to have a go.”

  Zara quivered from shock and fear. Her chest rose and fell in panic. She looked around her, frantically willing an avenue of escape to materialize. At least her hands were still unbound.

  As if reading her mind, Draco shook his head. “The door’s locked, babe, and you’ll never reach the window. Let’s face it, you’re stuck here with me for as long as I want it.” He squeezed her nipple painfully through the thin fabric of her dress. “And boy, do I want it.”

  “When’s my father due to arrive?” she blurted, unable to believe she’d formed the coherent thought, let alone uttered the words. But they seemed to have the desired effect. Draco’s hand fell away and he took a few steps backward.

  “Like I told you, I’ve given him until midnight. It’s up to him how soon he gets here. If he knows what’s good for him, it’ll be sooner rather than later.”

  The smirk on his face and his slow once-over made Zara’s skin crawl, but at least he’d stopped touching her. She didn’t know what she was going to do if he made good on his threat.

  She scurried as far away from him as she could, perching on the edge of the couch. The discarded bag of food toppled to the floor.

  “I promise to tell my father you’ve treated me well,” she said, eyeing him bravely. “He’ll be more likely to take it easy on you if he knows I’ve come to no harm.”

  Draco grinned. “Is that right? You’re a regular little Pollyanna, aren’t you? And here I was hoping you and I could have a little fun.”

  “I’m not my stepmother. I don’t know what kind of “fun” you had with her, but I’m telling you now, I don’t want any part of it.”

  “Full of orders, aren’t we? You’re pretty confident for a little bitch that’s locked in a room and at my mercy. I’m sure I’ve got better uses for that smart mouth of yours.”

  He strode back toward her with purpose. Zara shrank against the couch. Terror pounded through her veins.

  Draco came to a halt in front of her. He unsnapped the catch on his jeans and slid down the zipper. Moments later, his erection sprang free.

  Zara cried out in panic and fear. Reaching out for her, he seized a handful of her hair and dragged her head toward his erection. She batted at his hands. His grin widened, displaying his ill-kept teeth.

  “This will stop that smart mouth of yours. You won’t have any breath for talking.” He produced a gun from the back of his jeans and held it to her head. “Now, shut up and suck.”

  Zara stared at Draco and began to tremble violently. The gun in his hand didn’t waver. He looked at her with such malevolence, she had no doubt he’d kill her if she didn’t comply. Panic surged through her chest and suffocated her. She gasped for breath, but it wasn’t enough. She began to hyperventilate.

  Draco’s phone rang, momentarily distracting him. The sound of it was loud in the silence. He cursed and moved away from her and she collapsed against the couch, grateful beyond words for the interruption.

  Draco growled into the phone and then listened to whoever was on the other end. His face darkened and he swore with vicious intent. Zara curled up in a ball and waited to see how long the reprieve would last. She didn’t know what she’d do if he ended the call and returned to take up where he’d left off.

  * * *

  David turned the door knob of his wife’s bedroom with a hand that shook. Anger, disbelief, and a tiny sliver of hope that Draco was lying, warred inside him.

  Allison sat at her dressing table, an array of hand lotions, eye creams, nail polish, perfume and other girly paraphernalia spread out before her. She stared at him in the mirror, her expression one of surprise. He could understand her reaction: He rarely ventured into her rooms during the daylight hours.

  She’d been gone most of the day. He’d expected her home for lunch, at least, but she hadn’t shown. It had been nearly three when he heard her come in. He’d spent the next twenty minutes summoning up the courage to confront her and wondering whether he was ready to hear the answers.

  With hesitant steps, he drew nearer. As she caught sight of his expression, her eyes widened and a tiny frown marred the smooth skin of her forehead.

  “David, what is it? You look like you’ve just heard your best friend’s been killed in a car accident.”

  He closed his eyes briefly at the callously casual way she offered the comment. When had she gotten so hard? She never used to be like that. At least, he didn’t think so. He’d been so busy building his political career, a decade had passed and he’d barely noticed.

  She looked slim and glossy in a close-fitting black dress that dipped low to display her breasts. He
r hair, a thick, shiny swathe of blond, was coiled enticingly around her ears. He drew in a breath and his head filled with her perfume, the same exotic blend of vanilla and frangipani she’d worn for as long as he’d known her.

  Little had changed, except, perhaps her eyes. And even then, to see the difference, he had to look closely.

  The brilliant blue orbs had lost some of their sparkle and there was an expression of perpetual discontentment in their depths, as if she was still searching for the well of unbridled fulfilment and had almost given up hope.

  Why hadn’t he noticed it before? Had he really been so self-absorbed? He’d made sure the bills were paid on time, he’d been home for dinner most nights and the nights when he was required elsewhere to lend his political support, she was almost always by his side.

  The fact that he knew very little about how his wife spent her time during the day had never been a problem. He assumed she went shopping, got her hair done, had manicures, met up with friends for lunch or the movies. There were numerous ways she could spend her time and the itemized monthly credit card bill bore testament to the fact she knew how to keep herself occupied.

  Now he wondered how she’d managed to do all of that and still get high—and even more than that—if Draco’s sly innuendoes were to be believed.

  Another surge of anger tightened his gut and his hands clenched into fists. His pulse thundered in his ears and he opened his mouth to speak.

  Watching him in the mirror, Allison angled her body away from him, alarm chasing the surprise out of her eyes.

  “David, for goodness sake, whatever’s the matter? Don’t tell me your best friend has been involved in an accident?”

  He nearly choked on his fury. How could she be so nonchalant? His world was about to be split open and she was still trying to joke with him. It was too much!

  “Draco Jovanovic has our daughter.”

  “Don’t be silly. Brittany’s over at Olivia’s. She was going there straight after school. She wanted to go and see her and make sure she was all right after the…you know.” She shuddered delicately.

  “I’m talking about our other daughter. I’m talking about Zara.”

  If David hadn’t been watching closely, he’d have missed it—the tiniest flare of guilt in the depths of Allison’s eyes. Seconds later, it was gone and he wondered if he’d imagined it.

  “Zara? What are you talking about? Surely, she’s at work. You know how dedicated to her job she is. I was surprised to find her home over the weekend. I guess it was because of Brittany—”

  “Stop!” David yelled. “Just stop! Did you even hear what I said? Zara’s been kidnapped by the president of the Redbacks.”

  Allison lifted a slim shoulder. “I’m not surprised. He wants his money. You know that. Pay him what I owe and I’m sure she’ll be fine.”

  David sputtered with rage, suddenly sure. “You knew. Just like he said. You knew he was going to take her, didn’t you? Didn’t you?” Rage flooded his veins and pulsed in his ears. He reached for her, his fingers tightening around her neck.

  He struggled to breathe. Black spots danced before his eyes and the scene seemed to play out in slow motion.

  Allison screamed and flailed beneath him. His grip tightened…

  CHAPTER THIRTY-SIX

  Wednesday, January 31, 3:44 p.m.

  Lane glanced at his watch and drummed his fingers on the steering wheel of his unmarked police vehicle. Even with the sirens and lights blazing, traffic had come to a virtual standstill as police cleared the remnants of an earlier accident.

  It had been hours since he’d spoken to David. Hours since the Attorney General had told him Zara had been kidnapped by the notorious president of the Redbacks and was being held for ransom in a second attempt to have his drug debt paid. Obviously unwilling to risk another fuckup, Draco had taken charge himself.

  Lane slammed his fist against the steering wheel. “For fuck’s sake, how long does it take to tow a vehicle out of the way?”

  “Take it easy, mate. We’re not going to get there any faster with you hyperventilating.”

  Lane glanced across at Jett and grimaced. With gritted teeth, he tried to calm down by filling his lungs with oxygen and holding onto it for as long as he could.

  “We’ll find her,” Jett reassured him. “We know where the Redbacks’ clubhouse is. If she’s not there, we’ll interrogate each and every person that is there until one of them gives her up. Someone will know something.”

  Lane acknowledged his comments with a brusque nod, but remained tense. There was no guarantee Draco’s men would point the finger. Most of them were hardened criminals. They were more likely to treat the police with contempt than offer any kind of assistance. Short of arresting every single one of them and throwing them in the cells to re-think their options, there was little any of the detectives could do to force them to talk.

  Jett noticed his grim expression and spoke again. “While you were making phone calls and calling taskforce members off leave, I ran a few of the Redbacks through the database. At least five of them have outstanding warrants for minor drug offences, assaults and other misdemeanors. If all else fails, we can take them in on those charges and go from there.”

  Lane nodded again, appreciating Jett’s efforts, but even if they arrested as many as they could, it would take days to bring enough pressure on toughened men like the members of the Redbacks to get them to talk. Even then, there was no guarantee of success. Their loyalty to their colors and to their president was legendary.

  Frustration and fear churned inside his gut. The irony of the situation wasn’t lost on him. He’d been ready to shout out to Zara and to the world that he was ready—ready to take a risk on life. He’d finally found the woman who’d made him ready—only to have her snatched away from him before he could utter the words. Her life was now at risk.

  The traffic in front of him edged forward. He saw an opening ahead and accelerated in an effort to break free of the gridlock. The only thing he was grateful for was that peak hour traffic hadn’t yet started. That would have just about done him in. As it was, the tension was eating him from the inside out.

  “I hope everyone else isn’t caught up in this,” Jett muttered, his expression grim.

  “At least some of the taskforce are. Anyone coming from the north side. The superintendent managed to get half a dozen TRG members from Parramatta and another three or four from Bondi, so at least those blokes will avoid this mess.”

  “They’ll have to wait for the rest of us, though, won’t they?”

  Lane compressed his lips and tried to contain his frustration. “Yep.”

  It was all he could manage.

  * * *

  David watched Allison’s face turn red then purple. Her arms flailed, reached for him. One long manicured finger scratched his cheek. He felt the sting of it in some distant part of his mind.

  He pushed her backward, toward the bed. His fingers tightened. Her eyes bulged. Gasping, gurgling sounds bubbled out of her throat. Her face deepened to puce.

  Pleasure surged through him. Exhilaration. Delight. And then…disbelief. He stared down at her, at his fingers around her neck. Shock ricocheted through him. His hands fell away. Bent over double, he turned away and retched, heaving what little there was in his stomach onto the pale-gray carpet.

  He glanced across at his wife, who had collapsed onto the bed, holding her neck in her hands, gasping and choking and crying.

  What was he thinking? What had he done? Or almost done? He’d nearly killed her. Had wanted to kill her. In the midst of his rage-fueled haze, he’d wanted to make her pay, to see her dead for putting his daughters at risk. First Brittany, and now Zara. His precious Zara.

  What good would he be to either of his girls if he’d killed his wife? He’d be locked up behind bars with the very criminals he helped put away. He wasn’t the one who’d done wrong. He wasn’t the one who needed to be punished.

  He stood upright, his chest stil
l heaving and stared at the woman on the bed. She was groaning in a combination of relief and anger. He took another step closer. Her gaze narrowed on him. He shivered from the unadulterated fury that glinted in her eyes.

  “How dare you!” she croaked, her voice a hoarse whisper.

  “Just be thankful I stopped when I did,” he shouted, outraged she could feel like she was the one who’d been wronged. “Perhaps I should have another go?”

  Fear flashed in her eyes and she scurried further up the bed. “Don’t you come near me!”

  The fight went out of him. How had his life come to this? His wife—beautiful, accomplished, loving—now curled up pathetically on her bed, hatred spewing from her pores. All at once, he felt exhausted. His head ached and his heart was leaden with grief, despair and disbelief. He turned and headed toward the door.

  She came off the bed like a banshee, tearing toward him, hair flying, hoarsely screaming. He didn’t even see the knife in her hand, didn’t feel the blade until it slipped between his shoulders.

  Pain, fierce and hot, stole his breath and then his mobility. He crashed to the floor with a grunt.

  * * *

  The unmistakable smell of marijuana assaulted Zara’s nostrils and the thick smoke burned her eyes. She averted her gaze from the men who stared at her with unrestrained curiosity and worse. Some stepped nearer for a closer look. Others, fueled with alcoholic courage, came up to her and ran their hands over her lips, her breasts, her belly.

  The fortuitous ringing of Draco’s phone had spared her the ordeal in his office, but she wasn’t naïve enough to imagine that was the end of it. He’d stormed out of the room shortly after ending his call and she’d breathed a sigh of relief, but a couple of hours later, he’d returned. He’d offered her a cheery hello and she was immediately suspicious of his elevated mood. She tensed when he came up close to her where she sat upon the couch.

  A moment later, his gun was back out and it was pointed at her head. She gasped in shock, her heart in her throat, and did her best to control her panic.