A Billionaire's Redemption

by Cindy Dees

  Deputy Green made a face at the woman’s back as he hit a button on the laptop sitting in front of him on the table.

  Gabe watched the video of Melinda intently. Her voice was as assertive as ever as she said, or maybe read, “My name is Melinda Grayson. I am alive and being held against my will. I am unharmed as of now, and as long as the police call off their search for me, I will remain that way. Further instructions will be forthcoming that, if followed to the letter, will ultimately result in my release.”

  The video stopped.

  “That’s it?” Gabe exclaimed.

  “Yup,” Radebaugh answered.

  The FBI analyst turned abruptly. “Would you say the syntax of that speech was similar to your wife’s typical patterns of sentence construction and inflection?”

  Gabe blinked, startled at the question. “Are you asking if that sounded like Melinda?”

  “Yes,” Agent Delaney replied impatiently.

  He considered it briefly. “That sounded exactly like Melinda. If someone told her to say that she was unharmed and instructions would follow, that would be pretty much exactly how she would say it.”

  The analyst tapped a front tooth with a long, manicured fingernail. “Then why the explicit statement that she is being held against her will? It’s a strange assertion to add into this sort of communication. Of course she’s being held against her will. We can see that she’s tied to a chair.” Delaney frowned and then added, “Dr. Grayson strikes me as an extremely intelligent person who takes pride in her intellect.”

  “You would be correct,” Gabe replied drily.

  “Then it would not be her style to make such a blatantly obvious observation?” the analyst asked tersely.

  “She’s generally scornful of people who state the obvious,” Gabe answered, frowning. Now that the agent mentioned it, that had been a weird thing for Melinda to say.

  “Watch it again, Mr. Grayson. Does anything else stand out to you?”

  He would have corrected Agent Delaney’s mistake about his name, but the tape started to play again. He perched on the edge of the conference table to watch it more closely.

  “Again, please,” he murmured.

  After about three more times through it, the analyst asked, “Anything?”

  “Well,” he answered slowly, “it seems a little strange how forceful she sounds. Don’t get me wrong. She’s nothing if not an assertive woman. But I would have expected her to sound a little more...cowed...by the experience of being kidnapped and held against her will. She’s not accustomed to much of anything happening against her will.”

  Of course, maybe he’d been spending too much time around sweet, gentle Willa Merris. By comparison, Melinda was about as soft and feminine as a Mack Truck. As soon as the thought crossed his mind, though, he felt bad about it. He shouldn’t compare the two women. They were as different as night and day. And he owed Melinda a certain loyalty. They’d been married once, after all.

  He added, “Maybe Melinda is playing some sort of head game with her captors. It would be her style to manipulate them as much as possible. Could she be signaling us as to what she’s doing?”

  Lord knew Melinda had played plenty of head games with him during their short marriage. When he’d finally gotten wise and started calling her out on it, she’d poo-pooed his anger, saying it was part of her job as a sociologist to experiment on the people around her. They’d had quite a fight over it, as he recalled, with him insisting he didn’t want to be her lab rat, and her railing that he was being oversensitive and childish.

  Most of their fights had come down to that. He’d never been enough man for her, not smart enough, not mature enough, not intellectual enough to satisfy her. He’d spent their entire marriage feeling wholly inadequate, and scrambling to play catch up with the meteoric rise of her career.

  Even now, when he was a billionaire for crying out loud, Melinda accused him of being a slave to the almighty dollar and of not having achieved anything of real importance. Not like her—author of multiple books, famous lecturer, professor, intellectual and sought-after commentator.

  Agent Delaney tilted her head thoughtfully. “Does she have enough psychological training to attempt to manipulate her captor or captors?”

  Gabe snorted. “The woman’s brilliant. And her favorite hobby is messing with people.”

  “It’s an interesting theory, Mr. Grayson.”

  Gabe pointedly ignored Deputy Green’s smirk as the FBI agent called him by the wrong name again.

  The woman distracted Gabe by asking, “You used the plural, captors, when referring to whoever kidnapped your wife. Why is that?”

  “I just assumed...” he trailed off. “You’d have to know Melinda to understand. She’s a formidable woman. The idea of a single person overwhelming her and kidnapping her just doesn’t seem plausible. It would have to be several people.”

  “She’s a fighter?” Delaney asked.

  “That’s one way to describe her,” Gabe replied. “Combative. Aggressive. Self-confident to a fault. She wouldn’t go down without a fight.”

  “And yet,” the analyst commented speculatively, “not a thing was out of place in her home. Not a chair overturned, not a pencil on the floor. Nothing whatsoever to indicate that there was any kind of struggle.”

  Gabe nodded. “I know. That part baffles me, too. It makes no sense at all that someone just walked in, knocked her out and was able to drag her out of her home without leaving a single sign behind.”

  “Can you think of anyone she might have left home with willingly? Perhaps not realizing she was being kidnapped?” the agent pressed.

  “I’ve been over this and over this with the police,” Gabe answered on a sigh. “I can’t think of anyone. But then, I don’t know any of her students or colleagues. I’m fairly out of touch with her life these days.”

  “And why’s that?”

  Deputy Green snorted behind Gabe. Jackass. “Because we’ve been divorced for nearly ten years.”

  Agent Delaney, to her credit, looked chagrined. “My mistake. You seemed so invested in her safety when you came in here....” The woman turned back to the screen without finishing the observation. Uncomfortable silence filled the room.

  Deputy Green commented snidely, “Guess we know who wore the pants in that relationship.”

  Gabe’s jaw tightened until he thought he was going to crack a molar. He had no illusions that Melinda had tried to wear the pants in the marriage and that had been one of the reasons it broke up. He’d wanted a partnership with her, not to follow her around like a pet puppy.

  But it wasn’t as simple as walking away from her. She knew exactly how to get her hooks into people, and she’d buried hers deep in his psyche. Hell, it was part of why he refused to remarry. He never wanted to be that vulnerable to—or victimized by—another human being again.

  Gabe turned his back on Green and murmured to Officer Radebaugh, “Keep me in the loop, okay?”

  “Of course,” the young officer replied, startled.

  Gabe beat a retreat before he put his fist through Deputy Green’s smirk.

  He scowled his way through the reporters who, for once, seemed to catch a clue to leave him the hell alone. Either that, or their source inside the police station was so good, they didn’t need to bother him for details about Melinda’s tape.

  When he got home, he took an overdue shower, which finally cooled down his temper. He wasn’t normally a particularly volatile person, but with both Willa and Melinda under serious threat, the strain had put him on edge.

  Melinda had insisted that they have an amicable divorce, which in her world meant the two of them stayed in touch and occasionally went out to some event or other together. Given how vicious she could turn in an instant, it was easier to go out with her a few times a year than to make an active enemy of her.

  And it wasn’t like he’d been a perfect husband. He’d been the one to go haring off to the far corners of the world in search of oil. She
might have traveled a lot, but at least she’d stayed mostly on the same continent. Although truth be told, it was easy to be in the same room with Melinda and feel a million miles away from her. When she was working on an academic project, she’d never had time or attention for anything or anyone else.

  He made himself a bite to eat, and strolled out into his living room at loose ends since he’d planned to spend the day with Willa. But the phone call from the police had put a kink in that plan. He called her, but Willa’s cell phone went immediately to voice mail.

  He sighed. As a senator, she might not necessarily pick up her own messages. Hence, he left a generic message thanking her for last night and hoping they could do it again soon. It wasn’t the one he’d have liked to leave for her, telling her that she’d blown him away, he couldn’t get enough of her and would she please consent to spending many, many nights in his bed forthwith.

  He watched the news, returned a few phone calls from the office and found himself pacing his living room impatiently in under an hour. He tried Willa’s number again. Still no answer. Damn. Sometimes he really hated dating busy women with careers that took precedence over him.

  His rational self rolled its eyes at his selfishness, but his emotional side acknowledged that Melinda had done a number on him that he was now taking out on Willa. It wasn’t Will’s fault she’d been named to her father’s senate seat.

  He would like to call again, but he didn’t want to make her feel like he was stalking her. She’d already had one too many creeps in her life. He glanced at his watch, frustrated. How much longer until he could reasonably call her again?

  * * *

  Willa stared at her cell phone in dismay. That was the fifth call today from Gabe. He was now calling her every hour on the hour, and his messages were getting steadily more urgent and taking on a tone of worry for her safety. She couldn’t avoid him forever, although she’d really love to. When Louise called, a strange note in her voice, and asked if Willa could swing by the big house, she jumped on the request.

  The mansion was in an uproar when she arrived. Her mother was sobbing at the kitchen table, Louise was hovering over Minnie and wringing her hands, Louise’s son, Marcus, was striding around the garden with a shotgun and George was nowhere to be seen.

  Willa couldn’t get a straight answer out of either of the women in the kitchen as to what was going on, other than it was just horrible and who would do such a thing? At a loss, Willa headed out for the backyard. Marcus wasn’t in view, but she caught sight of George’s broad-brimmed straw hat and headed for it.

  “What’s going on?” she asked the older man.

  “Never seen anything like it, ma’am. Dead animals keep showing up in the garden. First it was that rabbit. Then a cat, and today a deer. All of them have their heads cut off. Or more accurately, torn off.”

  “Have you called the police?” Willa gasped.

  “They think it’s a bobcat or a coyote.”

  “A coyote wouldn’t take down a deer and tear its head off.”

  “That’s what I told the cops, but they wouldn’t listen to me. City slickers don’t know nuthin’ about coyotes. It would take a pack of ’em to bring down a buck, and they’d eat it if they killed it. And there wasn’t a single mark on the rest of the carcass. Coyote would’ve hamstringed something big like that. Torn out its throat maybe, but not taken its entire head.”

  A chill crept up Willa’s spine and icy goose bumps raised on her arms. Who on earth would kill animals in such a gruesome fashion, not to mention dump them in her mother’s garden? Minnie didn’t have any enemies. It had to be directed at her father or her. Except John Merris was dead. Which left...Willa gulped...her.

  * * *

  A cackle escaped while looking through the lenses of the high-powered binoculars. Willa Merris looked worried. She was good and scared now, wasn’t she? Bitch. The Merrises were done messing with other people. High time they learned what it felt like when someone else played games with their lives. Come after other people, would they? Set up other folks, would they?

  Suffering. Willa Merris needed to suffer pain. And fear. No, she needed to feel terror. She’d scream with it. Lust surged at the thought of her screaming. Tie her up. But no gag—gotta hear the bitch scream. A thin blade, maybe. Sharp. Lots of little cuts. Tiny rivers of blood striping her white skin. Pretty pattern. Ahh, the agony. The panic. The sweet smell of it.

  An orgasm exploded without warning and practically knocked the binoculars loose. Dammit! Loss of control like that was bad. Bitch would pay for that, too. She’d pay for everything....

  * * *

  For once, Willa was grateful for the mini-pharmacy on the nightstand beside her mother’s bed. It had taken plentiful dosing with tranquilizers and sleeping pills to get her mother calmed down and resting quietly. Apparently, it had been Minnie who discovered the mutilated deer in her garden, and the shock had been too much for her already fragile state of mind.

  Enough was enough. Willa called a private security company in Dallas, and hired a team of guards to come out to the mansion immediately. The half-dozen men who showed up in an hour were big, quiet and competent-looking. They swept the entire property, established a security perimeter—whatever that was—and commenced setting up cameras, motion detectors and who knew what else in and around the house.

  They also advised Willa to stay in the mansion until further notice. Something to do with minimizing exposure and consolidating assets. She wasn’t thrilled to be back in the mansion, but she was relieved to have a tall, muscular bodyguard nearby at all times. Her security and her mother’s were restored. If only Gabe Dawson was so easy to deal with.

  He’d continued to call every hour on the hour, but there was no way she was talking to him. His wife, indeed. If he was still that invested in Melinda Grayson, the two of them were welcome to each other. She admitted to herself reluctantly that she might be hiding behind her anger to mask the hurt she actually felt at being second-best to his ex-wife. No wonder all the women who slept with Gabe declared him unmarriageable material. They were right.

  And she was a big ol’ fool. She’d known what kind of man he was when she fell into his bed, and she’d deluded herself into thinking they could have more. But he was one tiger who wasn’t about to change his stripes for anybody. Her best bet was to cut her losses and move on.

  But move on to what? Who else would ever measure up to him? She’d been sweet on him forever. If she was being honest with herself, she would admit that she’d measured every guy she’d ever dated against him. And they’d all come up lacking. It was one of the main reasons why she’d never found a guy she could really commit to emotionally. None of them were Gabe.

  Except now that she’d had him, however briefly, it was time to accept that having no man at all was better than having Gabe Dawson.

  Thankfully, the dossiers on all the candidates in the upcoming elections that she’d asked her father’s—her— staff in Washington to compile came across the fax in her father’s office shortly after dinner. She desperately needed the distraction, but felt a little guilty at the size of the stack that finally printed out. The staff had to have worked frantically all day to have pulled so much information together so fast. She emailed them a message of heartfelt thanks for their hard work and settled down in the library to read the briefings.

  A commotion at the front door around ten o’clock interrupted her concentration as she sorted the candidates into possible-yes, undecided and definite-no piles. One of the bodyguards stuck his head into the room. “Guy at the door named Gabe Dawson. Says he’s your boyfriend. Wants to see you.”

  “Tell him I’m not available.”

  “Roger, ma’am.” The guy backed out and closed the door behind him.

  Wow. That had been easy. She should keep a couple of giant bouncer types around more often to get rid of people she didn’t want to deal with.

  It didn’t take long for her cell phone to ring. She didn’t even bother loo
king at it. She knew who was calling. Gabe. The phone even sounded angry as it rang. She let his call go to voice mail before she reluctantly listened to what he had to say.

  “Seriously, Willa? You’re going to hide behind a bunch of thugs? What the hell did I do to you? I thought we had something great going. But I guess I was wrong.” The earlier worry was gone from his voice, replaced by cold fury.

  Remorse speared through her. Had she overreacted this morning? Had he merely spoken thoughtlessly in his worry for his ex-wife? It wasn’t a bad thing that he still cared about Melinda’s safety, was it? Maybe all it meant was that he was a decent man who would worry about anyone in the position Melinda was in. For all Willa knew, Gabe was the closest thing to family Melinda had.

  * * *

  Okay, she felt bad now for siccing the bodyguards on Gabe. But the fact remained, he wasn’t a marrying kind of man and never would be. Sleeping with him had been great. Epic, in fact. But at the end of the day, she wanted more. And more was something Gabe Dawson couldn’t and wouldn’t give her.

  Chapter 12

  Willa narrowed her choices for possible candidates to endorse down to two men. But without meeting them and personally gauging their ethics and morals, she wasn’t willing to throw the powerful Merris name behind either man. Those cynical letters on her father’s computer fresh in her mind, she was determined not to send a business-as-usual politician to Washington if she could help it.

  She had to admit that having a congressional staff was handy. Amber assured her it would be no problem to set up meetings with the two candidates. In fact, the girl gently assured Willa both men would leap at the chance to speak with her. She was Senator Merris now. She kept forgetting.

  The first candidate, a man named Kevin Mc

  Conahhay, stopped by the mansion on his way to a campaign appearance in Denton. She winced as his garishly painted campaign bus pulled up in front of the Merris mansion. People were going to assume she’d already endorsed the guy. His politics were actually fairly close to her father’s, although McConahhay was spending more time talking about himself than any actual issues.