Captive Lies

by Victoria Paige

  The headlines were screaming of a reconciliation.

  Tech genius, Kylie Peterson, found cozying up to ex-boyfriend, business magnate Grant Thorne. For the fourth day in a row, the couple have been seen together at some of the trendiest Manhattan restaurants. Ms. Peterson, the brains behind KP Computing—a subsidiary of Thorne Industries, said their relationship was purely business. However, sources say Ms. Peterson was seen leaving Thorne’s penthouse late yesterday evening. Could they be negotiating a more personal relationship after hours?

  “You should stop reading that garbage,” Jake said behind me. “Ms. Peterson is testing the security of our servers. She’s been working round the clock on it and had to drop all her high-priority projects to do that.”

  Not even embarrassed at being caught, I left the screen where it was and turned to face him. “He has time to have lunch and dinner with her, but he couldn’t spare five minutes to call me?” Or send even a single text?

  “You know that call isn’t going to last only five minutes,” Jake said. “You two have a lot to work out. And I sure hope Mr. Thorne can wrap up his business today because Tyler said he’s been hell to work for.”

  “Is Tyler okay?”

  Jake smiled. “He’ll be fine. Just needs to get a thicker skin.”

  “He didn’t do anything wrong,” I argued. “We didn’t do anything wrong.”

  He sighed. “I know, but Mr. Thorne is still figuring out what to do with you.”

  “What do you mean?”

  “You’re a game changer for him, Blaire. At the moment, I think you’re bad for business.” Jake chuckled when I scowled at him. “But the times I see him with you, I think you’re the best thing that ever happened to him.”

  “Why, Mr. Donovan, is that actually a compliment?”

  He smirked. “It is, but don’t let it go to your head.”

  That evening, I dressed with excitement. Grant was coming home. He was flying in at seven and Jake had already left to pick him up. We were meeting him at a trendy restaurant in the Boston North End to celebrate the successful acquisition of a five-hundred-million-dollar property in Moscow—the Galleria Development. Amelia was picking me up first and then Valerie. The senator would join us at the restaurant since he had a late afternoon meeting with his advisors that was running a little over.

  Colette had already left, and I was pacing the living room waiting on the car. There was a fluttering in my stomach, an anxiety I couldn’t quell. I chalked it up to almost three days of not talking to Grant or Liam. I needed some closure on one of the unknowns plaguing my life.

  I heard a car pull up the driveway and one of the new security guys called me on the intercom.

  I left the house and saw Morris holding the door open to the Bentley. Amelia was inside, smiling at me.

  “You look beautiful, Blaire,” she said, noting my red lace over black satin sheathe number. The Spanish-influenced dress dipped in the back, exposing enough skin without being tacky. I wasn’t wearing a bra and I felt no guilt that I was using all my assets to blast through the wall Grant erected between us.

  Getting in beside his mother, and grabbing my seat belt, I smiled. “Thanks, and you look gorgeous as usual, Amelia.”

  “Now that we’re done with the mutual admiration,” she paused and smiled widely. “Are you looking forward to seeing Grant?”

  “I am,” I said. Amelia had been a great source of support during Grant’s radio silence. She’d come over for tea in the afternoons, making excuses that she liked Colette’s teacakes, but I think she was trying to distract me while her son had to do whatever was needed in Manhattan. I enjoyed her company, and she managed to keep my mind off this festering issue between Grant and me, which I was determined to resolve before the night was through. Now if only Liam would call me.

  The vehicle pulled into traffic and headed to Harvard to pick up Valerie.

  “It’s been a crazy few days,” Grant’s mother observed.

  “Yes, it has.” I had googled news of the deal and there were a lot of speculations about the different entities interested in acquiring the mixed-use properties included in the real estate deal. A powerful Russian oligarch was the lead competitor against Thorne Real Estate.

  “I’m glad that’s over.” The words barely left Amelia’s lips when the bottom of the car jolted.

  An explosion deafened my ears, yet screams pierced my head.

  The world tilted on its axis, until it didn’t.

  Pain pounded all around me, and then I felt numb.

  I stared confused at all the blood covering Amelia’s face, while horror set in.

  21

  Blaire

  I escaped with a few scratches … not even a bump on the head. But Amelia, oh my God, Amelia was in terrible shape. She hadn’t been wearing her seatbelt and got tossed around when the Bentley flipped. No one could explain what had happened. The security vehicle following us mentioned seeing an explosion, and I was sure I heard one. But aside from a flat rear tire, there were no signs of a device. It was as if a strong wind lifted the Bentley and pitched it. The majority of the damage to the car appeared to be from the rollover.

  I watched them load Amelia onto the gurney and into an ambulance. Morris got in beside her, and I wanted to as well, but the EMT blocked me. They said they were taking her to Massachusetts General Hospital. I nodded, still in a daze. The driver of the Bentley had a concussion and was loaded into another ambulance. Only Morris and I were unscathed. The rest of the senator’s security team followed the ambulance and seemed to have forgotten me.

  I stood there, looking lost, and realized I didn’t have my wristlet. It was somewhere in the mangled vehicle. A Boston cop put an emergency mylar blanket around me and asked if I needed anything.

  “Can you take me to the hospital? Where they took Mrs. Thorne?” Most of the first responders had recognized Amelia and were quick to give her assistance. None of the cops even bothered asking me questions about what happened. Morris did all the talking.

  The cop smiled at me. “Sure, lady. Come on.”

  I’d been sitting in the emergency room waiting area for more than twenty minutes. Morris sat across from me. I could feel the rage flowing off him in waves and they were directed at me.

  “Did you manage to call the senator?” I asked tentatively.

  “What do you think?” he snapped.

  “Morris—”

  “This happened because of you,” he said in a low accusing voice.

  “I don’t …” my voice faltered. I didn’t know what to say. I was frightened for Amelia.

  The ER doors slid open and the senator, Grant, and Valerie entered in a rush, followed by Gus and Andy and a host of other men in suits. Their security details, I presumed, because Jake was among them. Morris stood and headed for the senator who went straight to triage. My eyes were glued to Grant and I saw relief in his eyes. I got up from my chair, my legs wobbly, but I managed to move toward him. But something changed from my one step to the next. Grant’s eyes turned flat and his face shuttered.

  “It’s all your fault!” Valerie shrieked as she charged me.

  Grant hooked his arm around her waist, holding her back. “Val!”

  “No. You brought her into our lives,” she screamed, still trying to get to me. “And now Mom is dying!”

  I could only shake my head. “I’m sorry.” I looked at Grant, but his eyes were dead, even as mine filled with tears. “Grant—”

  “You need to leave.” His words cut right through the heart of me.

  “You heard him. Get out of here!” Val continued squirming in her brother’s arms, her fingers clawing out like they wanted to tear me to pieces. There was no need—I was already shredded inside.

  “Christ,” Grant muttered. He handed Val to Jake and stalked toward me. There was only anger on his face and I wanted the ground to swallow me up. He grabbed my bicep. “You can’t be here, Blaire.” He turned to Jake. “Find Tyler and tell him to take Ms. Callahan
home.”

  “You’ll let me know as soon as—” I started.

  “Dammit, Blaire, I can’t do this right now,” Grant growled. “Look at Dad.” He pointed to the senator who had collapsed into a chair; his face buried in his hands. “My family is falling apart.” Because of you was unsaid, but I could feel the condemnation in his words. “Now leave!”

  He let me go with a shove toward the exit and turned his back on me, heading to his father. I stood there, unsure of what to do. Do I wait for Tyler here? I fidgeted from side to side and flinched when I caught Valerie’s glare. She had calmed down, but Jake was still holding her back. I could feel eyes on me and all of them were hostile. All, except one pair—Andy’s. He walked to my side and cupped my elbow.

  “Let’s go, Blaire.”

  I left the ER and I left Grant behind.

  Only that time, he’d asked, no, told me to leave.

  “Are you sure you don’t want to wait for Tyler to take you home?” Andy asked. We’d been walking along the perimeter of the hospital. I felt so suffocated inside the ER, I needed to walk for a while and Andy kept me company.

  “I couldn’t take all the accusing eyes anymore,” I whispered. “We’re over—Grant and I. I could feel it. What happened to Amelia was the final straw.”

  “Don’t jump to conclusions,” Andy advised. “It could be white supremacists. Emotions are high and raw right now and you are an easy target for the blame.”

  “I know, and I can’t fault any of them for feeling that way, but I didn’t ask for this. I told Grant I was a bad bet. I know I don’t have the right to be mad at him. His mother is in critical condition.” I suppressed a sob that threatened to escape. “But he made me hope,” I choked. “He gave me hope that we were going to make it.”

  “Hey,” Andy nudged me. “Stop that. There’s always hope, Blaire.”

  I wiped the tears from my face. Looking up the night sky, I shook my head. “Every hope I have is for Amelia to make it. I keep none for myself,” I turned to look at my one and only friend at the moment. “Can you take me back to Grant’s place?”

  “You’re leaving, aren’t you?” Andy said.

  I understood what he meant. I was packing my things and leaving Grant for good.

  “Yes,” I answered. “Even if it turns out to be white supremacists, I can see now how my link to the ROC will always come between us.” Misery burned my eyes again. “I’ll need your number, so I can find out how Amelia is doing. God, I hope she’ll be fine.”

  We walked to the parking lot and reached Andy’s car. “It’s okay to change your mind, you know,” he said, glancing at the ER entrance.

  “I shouldn’t have come back,” I said with regret. “Now I’m sure of it.”

  We were about to get into the vehicle when a black van screeched behind us. The side door slid open and three men in ski masks jumped out.

  “Run!” I screamed as I kicked the first man who came at me. My damned dress restricted my movements and I only caught his thigh.

  “Blaire!” Andy yelled as he tried to punch the man who confronted him.

  My assailant was huge and as he reached toward me, I scooted under his arm and elbowed him. He grunted and shook off my strike. “Run, Andy!”

  I heard a muffled pop and, to my horror, Andy crumpled to the ground. “No!” I couldn’t have a death on my conscience in addition to Amelia’s injuries.

  I gave up the struggle.

  On everything.

  Just take me and kill me.

  I’m already dead inside anyway.

  Everyone will be better off.

  “Time to go home, Paulina.” My captor spoke in Russian. I felt a needle prick my skin and I welcomed the drug. Maybe I wouldn’t wake up.

  I’m tired of running.

  These were my last thoughts before blackness claimed me.

  22

  Grant

  Grant watched his father sink to a chair as the neurosurgeon left them. His mother was out of surgery. She was going to be fine. Their group had been moved to a special waiting room away from the general one because reporters started showing up. They’d been in their own private hell for four hours. Christ.

  The epidural hematoma was not as serious as first diagnosed although they did have to perform surgery to relieve pressure to the brain.

  “Thank God. Thank God,” the senator muttered. Grant had a hand on his father’s shoulder and his other arm around Val who was quietly crying in relief. He had to be the rock for his father and sister, so he had blocked out Blaire’s anguished face. He could imagine the guilt she was carrying, but he couldn’t go to her, not when his family needed him more. He didn’t even remember his words to her in the ER. He’d been lost in the horrifying possibility that he could lose his mother because he had chosen to fall in love with Blaire. He couldn’t deal with her too.

  “Hey, she’s going to be okay now, Val,” Grant murmured as he kissed the top of his sister’s head.

  “Oh, Teddy, I thought we were going to lose her for sure.”

  “She’s a fighter,” the senator said, reaching out to Val. Grant handed his sister to his dad. His mother was not out of critical condition yet because of the probability of complications, and there was a possibility she may require a secondary operation. She was in recovery right now. As they waited to see her, he knew he needed to call Blaire and let her know his mother was out of surgery and the prognosis was good. It wasn’t a smart idea for her to come to the hospital just yet, not when he had no clue where his father’s head was regarding his woman. Val—he knew without a doubt how she felt about Blaire, but he’d handle that soon enough. They weren’t sure if it was the ROC or the neo Nazis who were responsible. It could even have been a freak accident.

  He frowned when he stepped into the hallway to see cops crawling about in the waiting room. His dad’s security detail was guarding their private room, but his men were nowhere in sight.

  “Morris, what’s going on?” All those cops can’t be here regarding Mom’s accident, can they?

  “There’s been an incident in the parking lot. Andy was shot.”

  “What? How?” Goddammit. Why?

  Morris nodded to where Jake was fast approaching, face grim.

  “Donovan, what the fuck is going on?” Grant met his head of security halfway. “I heard Andy was shot.” His eyes zeroed in on Tyler who was talking to a Boston cop and his blood iced. “What’s Tyler doing here?” he growled. “I told you to have him take Blaire home. Who’s. With. Blaire?”

  “Mr. Thorne …” Jake hesitated.

  Grant backed away from him, the distressed look on his man’s face sent a riff of foreboding up his spine. “No,” he whispered. His mind balked at what Jake’s eyes were telling him. “Fuck! No.” He swallowed hard. “Tell me.”

  Jake blew out a breath. “Morris saw Blaire leave with Andy, so when Tyler came into the ER to take her home, he went outside to look for them. He was too far away when he saw what happened. A black van stopped behind Andy’s car. Three men jumped out. One of them shot Andy.”

  “And Blaire?” Grant asked, his chest tightening as his breathing fractured.

  “They took her, Mr. Thorne,” Jake said. He sighed heavily. “I’m sorry.”

  Grant leaned against the wall, blood draining from his head as fear for Blaire coiled in his gut. However, something wasn’t adding up. “When did this happen? Just now?”

  “Three hours ago.”

  “Blaire was taken three hours ago and nobody told me?” Grant roared, grabbing Jake by his shirt. “What the fuck, Donovan?”

  “What’s going on?” the senator asked, stepping out of the room.

  “Blaire was taken,” Grant threw over his shoulder before returning his glare at Jake. He gave his head of security a shake. It was either that or slam him against the wall. “Why the fuck wasn’t I informed immediately when it happened?”

  Donovan’s jaw hardened. “You were sequestered in a private waiting room and Augu
st Lynch was its gatekeeper. He told us that you and your family were not to be disturbed.”

  An anguished roar echoed in the hallway and it was only later that Grant realized it had come from him. He shoved Jake to the side when he spotted Gus. He stalked over to his father’s political advisor, hauled back, and punched the bastard across the face.

  Gus Lynch was lucky the Boston PD was in the ER waiting room or Grant would have killed him. When he learned that his mother had been attacked and was in critical condition, he managed to keep it together for his dad and Val. But when he found out that Blaire had been abducted and that fact had been kept from him for three fucking hours, Grant completely lost it.

  Rage. Blinding rage gripped him and despair tore at his guts. His girl was gone. His woman was taken and it was his own fault.

  What Grant wanted to know was why Andy removed Blaire from the ER. If the man wasn’t all drugged up, he’d have subjected him to an inquisition. Rather than wait for the Boston PD to obtain a warrant for the surveillance video, Grant used his influence with the hospital administrator to obtain a copy of the footage. Being a major benefactor of the institution had its advantage.

  Grant saw how he’d treated Blaire in the waiting room and his heart twisted at how lost she looked. Andy said she’d been planning to leave him. After the hostile reception she’d received from Grant and everyone else in the ER waiting room, he couldn’t blame her. There was a lot he needed to make up for but, first, he needed to get her back. What slayed him the most was the point where she’d given up the struggle after seeing Andy go down. The footage was grainy, but it was obvious she just stopped fighting. It was as if she’d given up. Grant took the blame for that too. I’ll find you, Blaire. Don’t you dare give up hope on us. Don’t you fucking dare.