“So you mean to trade me for the value of your trust fund?”
“The company was valued at forty million. I simply want my half.”
“You know they don’t have that,” I hedge. In truth, I have no idea what he knows.
“It’s all very simple, sweetheart. I’m not here to hurt you. In fact, I’ve rather grown to like you. Trust me, if I didn’t, there are plenty of ways I could make your stay here far more traumatizing. You’re a means to an end, and I’ll do what’s necessary to achieve that end.”
“Or what? You’ll kill me?” Vaguely I know I probably shouldn’t challenge him, but in my current terror I’m not exactly thinking strategically.
He reaches behind him and retrieves something from his waistband, and I realize belatedly that it’s a handgun.
Holy shit.
He sets it on the table beside him, and I automatically start tugging at my bindings again, twisting in a desperate rally to get away.
“You’d be unwise to underestimate me, Carleigh.”
He looks back to his phone and snaps another photo as I continue to squirm in a feeble attempt to get free. Idly I know it’s futile, especially with him in the room—with a fucking gun—but my fear is finally catching up to my attitude, and my survival instincts are kicking in as Zayne snaps a fourth and fifth photo.
“You finally look appropriately scared. These photos will be far more motivating,” he mutters to himself. “Well, time to get this show on the road!” He fiddles around on his phone. “Wouldn’t want your mother to report you missing.”
Like there’s a chance of that. I swallow nervously, my heart pounding faster and faster with each passing moment. “You’re going to call my mother?” Will she even answer?
He scoffs. “The woman who couldn’t be bothered to answer her phone when her son was vomiting half the volume of the Long Island Sound? That’s who you think my plan hinges upon? No, Carleigh, actually I have someone a little more reliable in mind.”
“My father isn’t exactly available,” I remind him. Nor is he exactly reliable…
Zayne smirks as he sends off a text. He looks between me and his watch and then comes to sit beside me on the bed, and brings up an app I’ve never seen before. “Stealthcom. It’s completely anonymous,” he says proudly. “It auto-installs onto the other party’s phone, and pings off of false towers so it isn’t even traceable, at least not within a useful timeframe. I can use it for calls, texting, video, and it has features to disguise voices, among other things. An old classmate of mine developed it—it isn’t even on the market.”
“Impressive,” I say dryly.
“Now, now, sweetheart. No need to be so cranky. As long as they cooperate you won’t have anything to worry about,” he assures me. I’m not reassured. “Now, I think the photo’s had enough time to do its job. Time to follow up.”
He uses the app to make a call. I recognize the number he dials immediately and my eyes widen in shock. But before he hits send, he glares at me in a way that makes my throat go dry. “Carleigh, I would think this goes without saying, but just in case…If you try to screw with my plans—try to tell them who I am, or attempt even a hint, for that matter—I will change my mind about not hurting you really fucking quick. Are we understood?”
I swallow thickly, and unable to form words, simply nod.
Zayne makes the call.
“Who the fuck is this?” Tucker growls.
“Someone who has something I’m betting you want to see again.” Zayne’s voice is unrecognizable through the disguise feature, and there’s a pregnant pause where Tucker’s heavy breathing is audible.
“Where the fuck is she? Is she okay?”
“I assume you received my photo?”
“Let me talk to her!” Tucker demands. His desperation is palpable and I can hardly stand to hear it.
“I’m fine, Tuck!” I lie. “I—”
Zayne cuts me off with a threatening glare, and it does its job, silencing me. He may not be planning to hurt me, but for the first time I wonder if a part of him might actually want to.
“Carl, where are you? I’m coming to get you—”
“No, you’re not,” Zayne corrects him. “Not quite yet. First you need to do something for me.”
Tucker’s voice lowers, deathly foreboding. “If you hurt her, I will kill you. Slowly.”
Zayne laughs. “I’ll make you a deal, Mr. Green. If I’m not given a reason to hurt her, then I won’t hurt her, all right?”
Tucker doesn’t respond. “Who are you?” he asks instead. “What the fuck do you want?”
“Who I am isn’t relevant. What the fuck I want is twenty million dollars.”
Silence.
“If you think I have twenty million dollars, then you definitely did not do your homework. I have a few grand saved up, max. Let Carl go and I will gladly hand over every damn cent.”
Zayne grins widely, not that Tucker can see it. “I have no doubt that you would, Mr. Green. But it isn’t your money I want. You see, Carleigh’s parents have funds hidden in an offshore trust that they’ve managed to shelter from the federal government for years. If you want Carleigh back, then Nicole Stanger needs to wire twenty million of those funds within twenty-four hours to the account numbers I will provide. Your job is to make her understand that this is non-negotiable, and to keep her motivated. If the police are called—and I have failsafes in place to alert me if they are—Carleigh will disappear, and none of you will ever see her again. Do you understand?”
“Let me speak to her,” Tucker demands.
“Do. You. Fucking. Understand?” Zayne roars so suddenly and viciously that I spring into a fetal position, my knees curled into my chest, my face shielded between my outstretched arms, still bound to the headboard.
“Yes!” Tucker hastily shouts. “Yes! Fuck. I understand.”
“Good.” Zayne recovers his composure just like that.
Tuck’s labored breathing is audible through the phone, and it fills my chest with lead. “Please let me talk to her. I…I need to know she’s okay,” Tucker pleads.
Zayne mutes the microphone. “Remember what I said,” he warns me, and then unmutes the phone and holds it near my face.
“T—Tuck…”
“Carl? Baby.” His voice breaks, and he pauses a beat to collect himself. “Are you okay? Did he hurt you?” Tucker asks frantically.
“I’m fine, Tuck,” I lie again. “He hasn’t hurt me. But…you need to make sure my mom gets him the money, okay?”
I don’t want him to hear how scared I am, but Tucker knows me better than anyone else in this world, and I’m afraid he can sense every ounce of my fear.
“I will. I promise I will.” He chokes on an exhale. “I will figure this out, Carl. I will get you out of there.” I don’t know if his vows are to himself or to me, but I’ll take them either way—they’re all I have to hold on to.
“Well, it seems we’re all on the same page,” Zayne interrupts. “I’ll be in touch.” And he hangs up just like that.
Minutes pass and he doesn’t look at me. I lie still on the bed, not moving a muscle, barely so much as breathing.
Eventually he turns to me, and just watches me, as if he’s waiting for me to speak. I don’t. I have boundless questions, and yet, I’m not sure their answers even matter.
“I suppose you’re wondering why I called him,” Zayne says eventually.
“Kind of, yeah,” I admit. “I’m not sure he’s the best choice to communicate with my mother. They’re not exactly buddy-buddy.”
He sighs. “Tucker Green wouldn’t let anyone risk your life, including your mother.”
If the situation wasn’t so inherently sobering, I would laugh. “I think you may have misjudged my relationship with Tuck, Zayne. We barely even get along most of the time.”
Zayne cocks his head at me. “Are you serious?”
I blink at him.
“You just heard him, did you not? Did he sound like someone who doesn�
�t get along with you? Baby?”
Just hearing him mock the endearment makes my blood run cold. Hearing him mock Tucker at all. Tucker, who is superior to him in every possible way.
“He’s a good person.” Something you know nothing about. “But I told you he was my ex, remember? There’s a reason for that.”
Zayne chuckles. “Wow, Carleigh. I never realized how naïve you are.”
I scowl at him.
“It took me fewer than five minutes to notice the way he looked at you the very first class of the semester. I told you this. Tucker Green loves you. In fact, sometimes, from his expression, it appears he loves you so much he hates you for it. But I doubt there’s anything he wouldn’t do to ensure your safe return. If anyone will get this done for me, Carleigh, it’s Tucker. In fact, I’m counting on it.”
My heart beats faster at his words. I want so much to believe they’re true that I try to remember the way he looked at me that first class, but all I recall is pure, brutal contempt. But if Zayne is admitting he himself looked at me that first class, then that must mean he’s been planning this at least since then, right?
“Tuck is just a victim in all this, too; you know that, right? Why would you put him through this?” I hate that Tuck is being used this way, against a family who has brought him nothing but devastation, and I don’t understand why Zayne couldn’t just leave him out of it.
“I do know that, as a matter of fact, and frankly, I’m rather puzzled by Tucker’s feelings for you.”
I flinch as if he’s struck me, even though I know his point is a valid one.
“Oh, don’t take such offense, sweetheart. It isn’t personal. When I noticed his staring I did some research. It took some digging, but I was pretty surprised to realize the son of one of your father’s own victims was in love with you. It’s almost Shakespearean, no?” He laughs.
“I wish you’d stop calling me that,” I murmur under my breath.
Another laugh from Zayne. I’m glad I can be of such amusement to him.
“I’m not saying I don’t understand the attraction. Of course I do. It isn’t surprising he fell for you. What surprises me is his ability to look past the history. Surely you both know that no amount of love will change what your father did to his, right? And even if you could get past that, his father certainly put the final nail in that coffin—pun and all—when he took his own life.”
I close my eyes. I have no other choice. It’s either close them or let Zayne watch them rain with the truth of his statement. But at least it works, and I don’t cry just yet.
He gets up without another word, and heads inside what appears to be an en suite bathroom, closing the door behind him.
Eventually I hear his muffled voice, presumably on a phone call, but I don’t even try to listen. I fear that, whatever he’s up to, I’m better off not knowing.
Chapter Thirty
Carleigh
Present Day
I wake with relief, because I must have been dreaming the kidnapping. There’s simply no other explanation. Things like that don’t really happen. Friendly, helpful professors don’t just turn psycho one day.
“Good, you’re up,” Zayne murmurs the moment my eyes blink away the intrusive light. “I brought you a sandwich, but I’ll have to feed it to you.”
“Not hungry,” I croak, my voice hoarse from sleep. I expect Zayne to argue, but he simply shrugs, as if he couldn’t care less whether or not I eat. And why would he? But I do need something from him, and it crushes my pride to ask. “I…need to use the bathroom.”
Zayne rolls his eyes as if I’ve exasperated him with my basic human needs, and for a moment I think he means to deny me. Instead, he retrieves his gun from the table by the window, holding it balefully close as he undoes my restraints. He uses it to guide me to the bathroom, and to my complete and utter humiliation, keeps it trained on me even as I sit on the toilet with only my skirt helping me retain the slightest shred of dignity. He returns me to the bed the moment I finish washing my hands, redoing my bindings even tighter than before.
“Don’t look so glum, Carleigh. Everything is going to work out. For both of us. In fact, now’s as good a time as any to check in with loverboy, don’t you think?”
I glare at him as he retrieves his phone.
“No talking for this one. Understood?” He doesn’t wait for my agreement. He just makes the call, and like last time, puts it on speaker.
“Are we making progress?” Zayne asks, as if he and Tucker are some kind of team.
“I’m doing my best,” Tucker replies. But I know him, and the uncertainty tainting his voice makes me anxious.
“I sure hope your best is good enough, Mr. Green. Is Mrs. Stanger being cooperative?”
“We’ll get you the money,” Tucker grits out. I can tell that what he really wants to say includes a barrage of expletives, but he keeps calm for my sake. “But, look, we might need a little more time. William Stanley is in federal prison—we can’t exactly send him a text. Carl’s mom e-mailed him and is waiting for his call. Once he tells her how to access the funds we can figure out how to wire it, but I don’t know that that’s all going to be accomplished in the next eighteen hours.”
“I find that when people are properly motivated, they manage to accomplish things they never imagined possible.”
“You think I’m not fucking motivated?”
“Then you better get it done. I have faith in you, Mr. Green. Carleigh has faith in you. She knows you won’t let her down.”
I scowl at Zayne, wanting to scratch that smirk right off his face.
“But what if it takes just a little—”
Zayne’s switch flips, instantly menacing. “I see I wasn’t clear earlier. If you want to see Carleigh again, it’s twenty million within the twenty-four hours I gave you.”
“If you fucking hurt her—”
“I don’t plan on hurting her, Mr. Green. That would serve no purpose. Don’t get me wrong, if you do something stupid like contact the authorities, I will have no choice but to dispose of the evidence, and that would include Carleigh.”
He glances at me, but there isn’t even a hint of shame at the fact that he’s talking about ending my life so callously.
“I told you from the beginning—I’m in this for the money. And if you don’t comply with my demands, then I will have to get it elsewhere.”
“What do you mean?” Tucker carefully asks the question I’m too afraid to verbalize.
“I mean, I will make a profit off of Carleigh, one way or another. And I certainly prefer it’s from the ransom, because twenty million is a hell of a lot more than I’d get from selling her. But a pretty, young, blond little thing like her? She could go for close to six figures at auction. Maybe more, to the right buyer.”
“You motherfucker! I will find her! I will find you!” Tucker’s threat crashes through the speaker, rocking the entire room.
But Zayne only laughs. “Honestly, friend, your energy would be much better spent elsewhere. If you call the police, she dies. If you fail to get me the ransom, she’ll be on another continent before the next sunrise. Either way, you will never see her pretty green eyes again.”
I can practically hear Tucker seething through the phone. “You’d sell her for a few thousand dollars rather than wait a few extra hours for twenty million?”
“Well, it’d definitely be more than a few thousand. It’d be enough money to hold me over for quite a while, and of course, the Stangers do have another child whose life they may take more seriously after losing the first.”
My pulse races in panic. Billy. Vaguely I hear Tucker’s rage echoing from the phone, but I register none of it.
I close my eyes to try and get hold of myself, and by the time I’ve mostly gotten my bearings, Zayne has already hung up.
He stares at me curiously, and I can’t stand that I’ve given him the satisfaction of witnessing my panic. I rally all of my considerable fear, and mold it into fury. “So
you’re in the sex trade now?” I hiss with open disgust, and Zayne has the gall to laugh.
“No, Carleigh. I’m a college professor who’s just finished his graduate degree in marketing. No one will ever suspect me in your disappearance. No one knows that I know someone who knows someone who knows people who know exactly what to do with a girl like you. But as long as your mother values her daughter over her lifestyle, you’ll never have to meet them.”
“You’re delusional if you really think you’ll get away with this,” I spit.
“You mean, Tucker won’t get away with this.”
What?
Zayne shrugs. “Your group heard him ask you to meet him for dinner last night. The cameras in the office building will show I left alone, more than twenty minutes after you did. And I’m sure there are plenty of people to testify to your tumultuous relationship.”
I gape at him. “You would really do that? Kill me, or…sell me. And let an innocent man go to jail for it?” I don’t know why I ask. He’s already proven the lengths he would go to.
“I doubt he’d go to jail. All the evidence would be circumstantial at best. But it would be enough to hold suspicion, which would, in turn, keep it from heading in other directions. Namely, toward me…I wouldn’t worry about Tucker. He would be heartbroken to lose you, certainly, but he won’t go to prison for it, and eventually, he’ll move on. That’s how grief works.”
I don’t respond. There’s no point. Zayne is insane, and the more I try to find a rational person within him, the more I realize none exists.
* * *
I’m staring at the wall in some kind of timeless trance the next time Zayne determines it’s time to “check in.” The bed dips as he sits beside me, but I ignore him until I hear him making a call, and hear my mother’s voice on the other end of the phone.
I’m vaguely aware of Tucker—and I think Billy—shouting in the background, and I stiffen.
“She’s my daughter and I want to speak with him!” my mother shouts back before returning to the call.
This can’t be good.
“Ah, Mrs. Stanger,” Zayne greets.
In Ruins Page 32