What He Sacrifices (What He Wants, Book Fourteen) (An Alpha Billionaire Romance)

by Ford, Hannah

  WHAT HE SACRIFICES (What He Wants, Book Fourteen)

  by Hannah Ford

  Copyright 2015, Hannah Ford, all rights reserved. This book is a work of fiction, and any resemblance to any persons, living or dead, is entirely coincidental.

  CHARLOTTE

  My head began to pound. The blood rushed through my body, faster and faster, becoming more intense with each beat of my heart. My veins expanded and pulsed, and my temples throbbed. The panic rolled in like a tide, threatening to overtake me, and I forced my mind to move faster in an attempt to stay ahead of it.

  I felt completely disconnected from my body, like what was happening to me wasn’t real. For a brief second, I imagined myself as the heroine of a movie, caught in some twisted situation with the villain.

  In the movie, I would be in danger, but I would get myself out of it.

  In the movie, I would be okay.

  In real life, I knew I was in deep, deep trouble.

  Suddenly, inexplicably, a crazed-sounding giggle escaped my lips.

  “You think this is funny?” Professor Worthington spit. His hands were wrapped around the wheel of his car as he zipped down back streets and weaved in and out of traffic, sideswiping cars as he moved through the dark alleys of the city.

  “No.” I shook my head. I didn’t think it was funny. The panic was rising, trying its best to pull me under and drown me as the reality of my situation became horribly clear.

  Think, I told myself. Think, Charlotte.

  My eyes flicked to the window. I wondered if I could signal to someone outside that I needed help. But the car windows were tinted, which would make seeing inside the vehicle impossible. The professor was intentionally choosing streets that were dark and deserted, the kind of streets you saw in old gangster films about New York City, with steam coming up from the manholes and trucks blocking the view of the buildings.

  I moved my gaze back inside the car.

  I knew from the countless case studies I’d done that victims had a better chance of getting away from their captors if they tried to fight back. Either the perpetrator would decide it wasn’t worth the hassle, or the victim would escape. Once you allowed yourself to be taken to a different location, your chances for survival went down drastically.

  “I’ve been watching you, you know,” Professor Worthington said. His tone was calm and smooth, the same tone he used when he was giving a lecture or leading a debate.

  “What?” I asked, startled.

  “Since the beginning of the semester. I’ve been watching you.” He glanced at me out of the corner of his eye, and I made sure to keep my gaze focused toward the front windshield. The last thing I wanted was for him to know I was searching the car for something that could help me.

  “Watching me? Why?”

  “I knew you were special.” He checked the rearview mirror, making sure no one was following us. The traffic was surprisingly light for this time of day, and I wondered where he was taking me. Did he have a remote cabin in the woods somewhere upstate? Was he going to take me back to his apartment? I thought about how Katie had died right in the middle of the park. Was he going to kill me there too?

  “I’m not special,” I said.

  He set his hand down on my knee. His palm was cool, but his touched burned through me. “You are special, Charlotte. Noah knows it. I know it.” His tongue snaked out and licked his bottom lip. “Of course, you’ve disappointed me a few times.”

  “I disappointed you? How?” I wanted to keep him talking, to distract him while my eyes combed the car for something I could use as a weapon.

  “Well, for instance, you never once asked what my connection was to Noah. Didn’t you think that perhaps there was a reason Noah had chosen me as his lawyer? He could have had anyone in the state.”

  “No.” I shook my head as my eyes landed on my bag. My iPad was in it, and my laptop. It was heavy. I could pick it up and hit him in the head. But then what? If I hit Professor Worthington hard enough to hurt him, but not incapacitate him, I’d still be stuck in the car with him, with no way to get out.

  I’d have to hit him hard, harder than I’d ever hit anyone in my life. I imagined myself picking up my bag and smashing it into his face. I thought about his bones cracking, about his nose spurting blood, about the side of his head breaking open. I was surprised to find that the thought didn’t repulse me in the slightest. He’d killed those girls. And he’d tried to blame Noah for it.

  Was he going to try to blame Noah for killing me, too?

  “You’re naïve in that way, Charlotte,” Professor Worthington was saying. “You didn’t stop to look at the whole picture. You became so focused on Josh. Ha! Josh didn’t know Nora. He didn’t know Dani. He didn’t know Katie.”

  “And you did?” I asked. My foot was inching carefully toward my bag. I would have to slide it toward me before I could reach down to get it. I hooked the strap around the toe of my shoe and pulled slowly.

  “No, Charlotte. You’re focusing on the wrong things! Again!” He pulled his hand from my knee and slapped it down on my thigh, hard. His open palm stung my skin, and his fingers dug into my flesh. I glanced down at his nails, which were perfectly manicured and clean.

  “What should I be focusing on?” I asked, struggling to keep myself calm.

  “You should be focusing on the fact that those women don’t mean anything. They are just props, Charlotte. They are just toys to be used to get to the real perpetrator.”

  He was talking like a madman. What did he mean, the real perpetrator? He was the real perpetrator. The panic I’d worked hard to tamp down pulsed and flowed through my body again, stronger this time. The toe I’d wrapped around the strap of my bag began to shake, and the panic became alive, whispering at me to succumb to it.

  It told me to hurry up, to pick up the computer and slam it into the Professor’s face, to do it now now now, that I had no idea where we were going, that the longer I waited the further away from the city he could take me, that there would be no one around to help. Then the panic morphed into something else, a doubting Thomas, telling me it was a stupid plan, that there was no way I was going to be able to save myself no matter what I did.

  The doubt burned an image into my mind of the bag slipping out of my hands before it could do any damage, of the professor laughing at how stupid I was for thinking I could hurt him.

  “Hello?” Professor Worthington demanded. “Are you paying attention to my lessons, Charlotte?”

  “Yes.” My mouth had gone dry, and I licked my lips. The professor guided the car around a corner and he did, my stomach turned on itself, something slippery and sour rising in my throat. I was afraid I was going to throw up.

  “Then who,” he said, “is the perpetrator?”

  His voice was bordering on shrill, and I realized he wasn’t just making conversation. He really expected me to answer the question, and if I didn’t, he was going to be upset with me.

  “Noah?” I tried.

  “Good job!” he crowed. “Good job, Charlotte! Yes, Noah. Do you know what an arrogant little shit he is, Charlotte? Do you know the things he’s done to me?”

  “Yes,” I said. “He is arrogant.” The words sounded wooden on my tongue.

  Professor Worthington glanced over at me sharply. It was dark outside, and the streetlights shone into the car as we passed through them, the light illuminating the sharp planes of his face, the hollow sockets of his cheeks, the dark circles under his eyes. For a moment, I was sure I could see through his skin to the skeleton
underneath, his skull and bones all yellow and papery. But when I blinked it was gone.

  “Don’t lie to me,” he said.

  “I’m not lying.”

  “Yes, you are,” he said. “You don’t think Noah’s arrogant, do you, Charlotte?” He shook his head. “You are naïve, after all.”

  His tone was darker now, and I could sense that I’d displeased him. I wasn’t sure why, but I had the idea that he was testing me. That if I was somehow able to give him the answers he wanted, he would keep me alive. But the thought was anything but comforting. He was obviously a ranting mad man. How was I supposed to know the things I was supposed to say? One wrong answer could set him off.

  He’d killed Katie, and most likely Dani and Nora, too. And he’d killed them just because they were close to Noah. Why did Professor Worthington hate Noah so much? I needed more information.

  “Why do you hate Noah so much?” I asked. My bag was close enough now that I could grasp the strap. The fingers of my right hand tightened around it.

  “You think this is about Noah?” Professor Worthington asked. He sounded upset, like I’d asked the wrong question. “This is not about Noah, Charlotte. This about people like him, people who have everything in life handed to them.”

  “Noah hasn’t had everything handed to him,” I said automatically.

  It was the wrong thing to say. Professor Worthington took his hand from my knee, pulled back, and slapped me hard across the face. I gasped as my hands flew to my cheeks, their protection too late. My teeth buzzed and my brain felt as if it were rattling around in my head.

  “That is very stupid of you, Charlotte. I didn’t want to hurt you, but I need to make you see the truth.”

  “What truth?”

  He shook his head. “That is for you to figure out. I thought you had figured it out, but then you immediately fell under his spell, just like everyone else.”

  My jaw was vibrating from the blow he’d sent to my face, and my fingers probed my cheekbone experimentally. It felt swollen, and I knew I was going to have a bruise. If I was even alive to have a bruise.

  I tried to focus on Professor Worthington’s words, to try and make sense of his ramblings. What did he mean, everyone fell under Noah’s spell? Had Noah taken a woman from Professor Worthington? Had it been Nora?

  Noah had never mentioned that to me. Not that he necessarily would have – Noah and I had never spoken of Nora. I had no idea what their relationship had been like, what their history was. Noah was a closed book, and I had no way of knowing how or if Professor Worthington had been involved in his personal life. It was shocking, really, when I thought about it. Why had I never asked Noah why he’d chosen Professor Worthington as his lawyer? I’d thought it was simply because he was one of the best in the city, but I should have known that Noah didn’t do things like that. All of his decisions were thought out, planned carefully, with the utmost precision and control.

  I should have been angry at Noah, should have been frustrated and upset that his unwillingness to talk about things had put me in this situation, a situation where my life was at risk.

  But all I felt was longing. I wished he were here right now, to protect me, to take care of me, to make this all go away.

  But I was on my own, left with Professor Worthington and his sick need to test me, to quiz me, to force me to solve his riddles.

  Of course I would never be able to give him what he wanted. I had none of the information, and even if I did, he was insane. It was impossible to know how his mind worked, impossible to know what kind of slight – real or imagined – Noah had inflicted on him.

  Professor Worthington had already hit me for giving him a wrong answer. And I knew he wouldn’t stop there. Katie’s face flashed through my mind, how she looked that morning lying in the park, her lips blue, her face bloated.

  Give up, the panic whispered. If you fight back, he’ll make it worse.

  I had a feeling it was true. If I fought him, he would make it worse for me. He wanted me to play by his rules, to participate in his twisted game.

  But I couldn’t do that. If I did, the chances were I would end up dead anyway.

  The car was rolling to a stop at a red light, and my hand snaked back down to my bag. I would hit him as hard as I could, and then I would reach over and go for the door locks. I would jump out if the car was still moving. I might get hurt, but it was a better alternative than letting him take me somewhere and kill me.

  I took a deep breath.

  It was now or never.

  But before I could pick up the bag, Professor Worthington spoke.

  “Do not think about hitting me with your bag, Charlotte.” He didn’t sound angry. He sounded matter-of-fact, almost devoid of all emotion. “You will regret it.”

  We were completely stopped at the light now, and he reached over and picked up my bag, then tossed it roughly into the backseat.

  I bit my tongue to keep from crying out in frustration.

  “He’ll find me,” I said. I could tell I was losing my fight with the panic that was rising in my chest. It was swirling around like a tornado, picking up any cognizant thoughts or feelings I had and sweeping them up, gaining strength as it went.

  “Who?” Professor Worthington asked.

  “Noah.”

  He laughed, and it was the laugh of evil. “No, he won’t, Charlotte.” He looked at me, working his top teeth over his bottom lip over and over again, giving him the appearance of a rat. His lip went in and out of his mouth, in and out in and out until a tiny drop of blood appeared. “He’s not coming. This time, he loses.”

  And that’s when I realized it.

  Professor Worthington was determined to hurt Noah, and he wouldn’t stop until he did.

  He was going to kill me. He would probably torture me first, but then, ultimately, he would kill me.

  There was nothing I could do to stop it, no way to talk my way out of it.

  I glanced around, looking out the window, the panic still clawing at me. I reached over and hit the button for the automatic windows, hoping that maybe something had been overlooked and it would still work.

  Professor Worthington shook his head sadly, as if he’d expected more from me.

  Hysteria bubbled inside of me, and it took all my self-control to tamp it down. I was about to lose it, was about to give into the panic that seemed to being gaining steam with every second. I fought the urge to grab the door handle and scream, yanking and pulling at it in a frenzy. My brain knew that would accomplish nothing other than to fuel Professor Worthington and to exhaust me.

  Think, Charlotte. Think.

  How could I get out of this car, or at least alert someone on the street that I needed help?

  The window.

  You could break it.

  But with what? The professor had taken my bag. I thought about smashing my hand through the glass, but I wasn’t sure I was strong enough.

  Kick it.

  It was Noah’s voice I heard in my head, strong and measured, controlled, calming me.

  I’m not strong enough.

  Yes, you are.

  We were coming up to another red light now, and I sensed my opportunity. The second the car rolled to a stop, I leaned back and slammed my foot into the window as hard as I could. Glass splintered with a sharp crash, showering me with its shards, and I took in a breath of surprise. I hadn’t expected it to be so easy.

  I immediately began screaming.

  “Help!” I yelled. “Help!”

  “You idiot whore,” Professor Worthington spat. He reached over and grabbed me around the shoulders, pulled me back toward him so that I was lying horizontally across the seat.

  My back ground painfully against the gearshift, causing me to cry out. But I flailed my legs out the window, hoping against hope someone would see me and come to my rescue, or at least call the police.

  “That was very stupid, Charlotte,” Professor Worthington said.

  He was reaching into his
pocket for something, and he held me down by placing his forearm across my throat. My esophagus felt like it was getting crushed under the pressure, and I struggled to breath.

  “Please,” I sputtered.

  Professor Worthington shook his head. “I’m sorry, honey,” he said. “But now I’m going to have to make this much worse.”

  I saw the needle a second before he plunged it into my neck.

  I tried to bite his hand, but it was too late.

  A warm drowsiness was overcoming me as a thick darkness rolled over my field of vision.

  This is what it feels like to die, I thought in wonderment.

  And then everything went dark.

  ***

  When I came to, I didn’t know how much time had passed.

  It could have been minutes.

  It could have been hours.

  I felt like I’d been sleeping forever, and yet at the same time, I wouldn’t have been surprised if someone had told me I’d only closed my eyes for a moment.

  My body felt heavy and jittery, and I had the sensation of being tossed around. A cool breeze skittered over my skin, letting me know I was outside. I felt disoriented, and I looked around, trying to get my bearings.

  But all I could see was inky blackness.

  It took me a second to realize the inky blackness was the sky. It was pitch black, no stars, no moon. I must have been out for a while if it had gotten so dark. The crunch of gravel filled my ears, and as I forced my gaze down, my situation began to take form in my mind.

  I was slung over Professor Worthington’s shoulder while he carried me across a parking lot. That explained the disorientation, and the feeling of being thrown up and down. With every step he took, my body jostled. I glanced around, trying to get a sense of where I was.

  I could smell a certain grittiness in the air, smog and hot dogs and car exhaust, the smell of New York, which made me think we were still in the city. Then again, that didn’t narrow things down much. I could have been anywhere in Manhattan, or Brooklyn, or Queens, Harlem, the Bronx…not to mention there were parts of New Jersey and Long Island that could feel similar to New York.