Kidnapping the Billionaire's Baby (A BWWM Romantic Suspense)

by Mia Caldwell

She prayed he was right.

  AMARA WOKE TO THE GENTLE rocking sensation of the turbulence as they descended through the clouds and lined up with the runway at Carrasco International Airport. She sat up slowly, reaching down to buckle up, only to find that Quint had already strapped her in for the landing. He still sat beside her, idly stroking her wrist with one hand and going over the plan on his phone with the other.

  “Quint? Are we there?” She brought up a hand to rub her eyes, shaking off the dreamless bliss of sleep.

  He turned his head toward her, smiling warmly. “Almost, yes. We’ll be landing shortly at Carrasco in Montevideo. From there, we’ll be headed straight to the Orlando estate. I’ve arranged for transportation, but I didn’t give our intended destination. Never know who’s connected to a family that large.”

  Amara nodded. Sounded reasonable.

  “We’ll just show up,” Quint said, “talk to them about what’s been going on with their son — or brother, or nephew, or whatever he happens to be to them — and see if they’ll tell us where he is. I don’t imagine they’ll be too eager to protect a kidnapper, family or not. Even if some of them are, they can’t all be willing to put themselves at risk to protect him. I have a list of almost two dozen Orlandos who work down in the city. We can contact them if we need to after we try our luck at the source.”

  She nodded softly, staring out the window, watching the sprawling city spread out beneath them. After the sixteen-hour flight and five hour time difference, the city was bathed in the same pale blue, early morning glow that shone through her window when she was awoken by the text from Quint the day before.

  As they got closer to the airport, she couldn’t help but marvel at how incredibly modern and sleek the architecture was. She’d never been anywhere in South America, but the descriptions of the state of a lot of the other countries had colored her perception of the continent. While there was an obvious area of lower income and living standards on the outskirts of the city, the interior was surprisingly metropolitan.

  “Oh, wow …” She reached out to touch Quint’s shoulder lightly, drawing his attention outside the plane with a quick nod toward the window. “You have to see this, Quint.”

  He turned, smiling broadly as the city swelled up below them, closer by the moment. “It is as beautiful as they said. This is one of the only places I haven’t been, you know. There’s not much of a need for my sort of philanthropy here — and, thankfully, there’s not a need for your sort, either.”

  Amara nodded idly as she listened, a soft smile spreading over her lips.

  “Uruguay is a wonderful place,” Quint continued, “especially contrasted against some of the more underprivileged countries, or those struggling under dictatorships. Can you believe that only some twenty or thirty years ago, this place was in the same spot? They’ve become a beacon for progress and democracy. They’ve worked hard for their new position as a leading force in South America.”

  It was always wonderful to hear Quint rambling on as he did. While she’d only gotten to know that side of him after his return from the crash, she understood where Hampton got his bubbly and inquisitive nature.

  Quint had his head in the right place when he chose her to be the mother of his child, she thought. Many of the best traits a child needed to give them as good a start as possible resided in one or both of them. While she was aware of her own better traits, she believed Quint had contributed the most.

  Being beautiful would certainly help Hampton down the line, too. And Hampton’s father was the most handsome man Amara had ever known.

  All this, she was tempted to bring up to Quint more than a few times, but she always pushed the feelings out and away to avoid giving him a mistaken idea about the nature of their relationship and what the future might hold. As far as she was concerned, they were merely two concerned parents looking for their son together.

  Quint’s idea of a joint custody arrangement wasn’t ideal, but it was the best for everyone, she thought. Hampton would get the best of both worlds, and while she wouldn’t have him as much as she’d like, she’d be giving both him and Quint a chance to be a family to one another.

  Maybe someday, when Hampton was older, he might choose to live with one or the other parent. But there were lots of maybes hanging out there. They hadn’t discussed the details going forward. The pressing matter of finding Hampton put all of that firmly on the back burner.

  Amara willed the meandering thoughts from her mind as she sought out the Orlando estate in the distance. The airport was located in an area that, when descending from the north, gave the passengers a wonderful view of not only the city, but also the large villas, estates, and mansions of every sort just outside the city, many of them isolated on the hills.

  She pointed, tapping her nail softly against the window. “There it is. That is it, right? It looks like the picture. God, I can’t believe how big it is … to see it from this far off. Wow.”

  Quint slipped the phone from his jacket pocket and pulled up the overhead view of the Orlando estate. “That’s it. No question about it. I’ve got the directions, and an English-speaking driver lined up for us outside the airport. I’ll be giving them to him one at a time. Shouldn’t be any kind of problem with him, but you can’t be too careful. Like I said, you never know who’s connected to who, especially in a place as new as Montevideo is for both of us.”

  “I’m half sick to my stomach,” Amara said.

  “If we stick together, we’ll be fine.”

  She willed his words to heaven and turned back in her seat as the runway came into view. She shut her eyes tightly. Though she’d flown a few times before, landings were always rough on her nerves. There was so much that could go wrong, and considering Quint’s crash, she’d felt anxiety about flying anywhere, let alone to another continent.

  But no anxiety could be enough to prevent her from seeking her son.

  Chapter Twenty Four

  THE PLANE LANDED SMOOTHLY AND braked gradually without much jerking or swaying despite the windy conditions. A hangar was open near the runways, reserved for Quint’s arrival. A small airport-branded vehicle was parked outside, ready to taxi them out to the airport proper.

  As they came to a stop in the hangar, the whir of the propulsion spun down slowly, and soon all was quiet around them. The crew lowered the steps and grabbed the bags that had been brought, taking them down to the car ahead of Quint and Amara.

  When they both got in the back of the waiting car, it was clear that the driver didn’t know a word of English, but his job didn’t require any instructions or directions. He drove behind the hangar and down a narrow path, through a security gate and out onto the main thoroughfare that ran past the front of the airport. Once there, he stopped and gave a small wave and smile to his passengers and popped the trunk to get their bags.

  The sleek black car that was waiting for the two was a definite downgrade in size from the usual limo Quint traveled in, but it was luxurious and spacious in the back seat. A tall gentleman leaned against the hood of the car, checking his watch before his eyes darted up to Quint and Amara.

  “Welcome to Uruguay. You are Mister Forbes?” His accent was thick, and surprisingly familiar. He spoke with the same flourish and flair as Frederik, something she’d always figured was part of his well-to-do upbringing rather than the area he grew up in and the language he spoke.

  As she approached, a twinge of apprehension shook her. It was his accent, its similarity to Frederik’s. She imagined the driver might be some relative of Frederik’s, intercepting them to take them to God knows where. She told herself not to be paranoid. The man looked nothing like Frederik, with round, gentle features and curly, white hair.

  Quint nodded to him as they approached. “Yes. You’re Thiago?”

  “Thiago Alvarez, yes sir. Go ahead and enter if you please. I’ll help with the bags.”

  He motioned toward the back of the car before heading over to help the other driver transfer the luggage. Ama
ra felt the same twinge of apprehension about her bags being handled by a complete stranger, but Quint seemed to have no reservations.

  No doubt he’d contacted someone with a good reputation, someone who could be trusted. Not only that, but this wasn’t like Nigeria or New Guinea where you might face down the barrel of a gun for your shoes.

  Amara smiled at the driver as he approached with one of her bags. “Thank you, Mister Alvarez.”

  His laugh was broad and good-natured, and he shook his head as he placed her luggage carefully in the trunk. “No no, none of that. You must call me Thiago. No need for titles. The car is unlocked. You sit wherever you like. We will leave right away, okay?”

  Amara nodded and opened the back passenger door, sliding in and giving a small gasp of surprise at the interior. The seats were beautifully conditioned leather, and both the inside and outside were totally spotless. An unassuming, spicy scent gently filled the car leaving only an underlying hint of the astringent cleaning products that had been used to create such perfection.

  A bottle of chilled champagne had been placed in a holder at the back of the driver’s console for the passengers, and the glasses were situated at either side. She had no intention of partaking, but she couldn’t help but marvel at the luxury packed into such an unassuming car.

  Quint and Thiago entered near-simultaneously, and the engine came to a quiet, rumbling start as they buckled up. Amara followed suit, but her gaze focused outside the car. She was more than content to let Quint handle the task of directing their driver and seeing to their safety.

  Quint directed the driver through Montevideo. Thiago protested a bit initially because he hadn’t been given a destination. He didn’t sound annoyed, however — only pleading for a destination so that he might get them there faster.

  After some assurance from Quint that he’d planned the most efficient route, they returned to a simple back and forth of directions and confirmations.

  Amara watched the city drift by. She’d never seen the place, and yet it had an air of familiarity. Just like her home city, people were going about their early morning commutes, grabbing coffee at the cafés downtown. The buildings got more and more sparse as they went on, having passed through most of the city in an hour’s time.

  As they turned onto the narrow but well-maintained roads leading up Cerro de Montevideo, the large hill outside the city, Thiago chuckled and said, “Ah, I see. You do not want to give destinations because you are seeing important people. Or perhaps you are a military enthusiast on the way to the fort at the top? Either way, that is fine. I assure you, nothing but privacy from me. My lips are sealed.”

  Quint glanced down at his phone and up to the road intermittently, guiding Thiago to the end of the long drive that led up to the Orlando estate. Behind the seemingly ancient, wrought iron gate, the compound itself could be seen.

  It was impossible to make out anything but the main building with all the strategically placed foliage stretching from the sides of the building to the high fences at either side. Amara knew well enough from the overhead view that there was a lot more to the place than that one building.

  Thiago pulled up to the security gate, and Quint quickly rolled down his window. The guard was pudgy and slow-moving, the bulk of his job being nothing more than turning away curious visitors. He seemed surprised by the car and its occupant as he approached, stopping suddenly as the window came down.

  He spoke in stiff, badly broken English. “Who come here?”

  Quint motioned to himself. “Quint Forbes. Must speak to Orlandos. Very important business.”

  The security guard held a hand up and lumbered back to the small enclosure where he sat. He picked up a phone situated on the wall, talking briefly with whoever picked up on the other side. Once he hung up, he simply waved them through from the box, the large gate slowly sliding to allow them passage.

  Thiago drove unhurriedly up the long lane, both out of caution and out of appreciation for the beauty of the place. The grounds were meticulously kept, the grass a lush green carpet, great beds of flowers lacing the lane.

  With Quint’s window still down, the smell was practically intoxicating. Closer to the main building, the path was lined with giant, well-trimmed gardenia bushes. Even down to the greenery, everything about the estate screamed luxury and wealth.

  The lane wrapped around a great, bronze statue of a military commander, standing with saber in hand, his head lifted proudly. Lilies bloomed profusely around the square, stone base. Amara assumed it was a tribute to some long-dead Orlando forebear.

  As they parked, Quint instructed Thiago to leave the car running before he opened his door and stepped out without a word to Amara. Doubtlessly, he thought she would take it as a signal to stay inside, but she wouldn’t be kept back at what she hoped would be the moment of truth.

  They walked up to the massive door, and it eased open, its weight causing a long, low groan from the wood and fastenings. It reminded Amara of old, scary-movie doors.

  From the relative dark inside, a woman with wavy raven-black hair slipped out to greet them. It was obvious by her dress and the string of pearls that hung low over her chest that she wasn’t a servant — and her features told Amara loud and clear that they were dealing directly with a member of the Orlando family.

  Chapter Twenty Five

  BEFORE AMARA COULD SPEAK, THE woman closed the door behind her and stood with her hands clasped in front of her, wearing a pleasant, if weathered, smile. “Buenos dias. Welcome to the Orlando estate. My name is Gabriela. I was not expecting a man such as you to simply show up on our doorstep unannounced, Mister Forbes. To what do we owe the pleasure of your visit, hmm? I am amazed to see how much you have recovered from your ordeal. Yes, even those of us in other countries have heard of what you endured after the crashing of your airplane.”

  Amara inwardly cringed at how practiced and high-society the greeting was, and how unmistakably the twist and drawl of her words matched her memories of Frederik’s tone.

  Quint had both hands in his jacket pockets, seeming completely at ease with the situation, and obviously well-accustomed to the waltz that simple conversations were made into when influential or powerful people were speaking. Nothing was ever quite as it seemed, and she’d learned as much with Frederik.

  He spoke confidently, without any hint of irritation or impatience. “Pleased to meet you, Gabriela.” One hand slipped from the jacket pocket to give her a personal business contact card. “I know it must seem strange, but I’m here on very important business. Would you mind if we talked inside?”

  She smiled graciously as she slightly shook her head, loose curls sliding over her shoulders as she did. “I’m sorry, Mister Forbes. I do not know if that would be appropriate, considering the unexpected nature of your visit. As I’m sure you noticed, we’re quite a way back from the road, and I can likely address any questions you might have. It is as private outside as it is inside.”

  He gave a low hum of consideration before shrugging. “That’s fine. I wouldn’t invite someone I’ve never met into my home either. I had a few questions about your family and the area. Is that all right?”

  When she gave a single silent nod, he continued. “I’m a friend of a friend, you might say. I’m looking for Frederik Orlando. He landed in Montevideo not too long ago, and it’s very important that I speak with him.”

  Gabriela tensed visibly at the mention of Frederik’s name, and as Quint went on, the smile slowly faded from her lips.

  Quint forged ahead, seemingly undeterred by the woman’s reaction. “I know Frederik is a very important agricultural researcher. I have what could be a mutually lucrative business opportunity for him. Have you had any contact with him? A phone call maybe, or letter? Visit? My offer is time sensitive, and I need to speak with him as soon as possible.”

  “I don’t know why you would seek him here,” Gabriela said.

  “I was unable to reach him in America, at his job or home”

&
nbsp; Gabriela’s voice wavered, sounding almost grieving. “I’m sorry, Mister Forbes. I don’t know anything about Federico or where he might be. Not anymore. My brother, he left for America a long time ago, and he has not been back since. We have heard nothing from him, and we do not expect to. I’m sorry I cannot be of more assistance, but … speaking of my brother is very painful to me. I must ask you to depart.”

  When Quint didn’t move, she motioned regally toward the gate. “Please. I thank you for your visit, but you will have to seek him somewhere else.”

  Quint was silent for a long moment before giving a slight bow, removing his hands from his jacket pockets. “I’m sorry to hear of his estrangement from his family. I’ll ask for information elsewhere. I apologize for re-opening old wounds. Thank you, Miss Orlando. Be well.”

  “You, as well, Mister Forbes. Encantado de conocerle.” She gave a bow in return, and turned to reenter the house.

  Where there was only silence behind the big door the first time she opened it, the sound of restrained clamor and non-English-speaking voices spilled out as she slipped back inside. As the door locked into place, the voices were again inaudible.

  Quint sighed heavily. “I hoped that would go better than it did. We’ll have to follow up on our other leads.”

  Amara nodded her response and headed back to the car. Nothing about the Orlando woman felt right, but she chalked it up to the fact that she so closely resembled Frederik, both in manner and appearance. Her hair had been dyed, but she couldn’t have been much older or younger than him.

  As they drove back down the long path, Quint rolled up both of his windows and the window between Thiago’s section and theirs so they could speak in private.

  He leaned his head back against the seat, staring up at the roof of the car. “Truth is, I suspected we’d get stonewalled here. I was almost counting on it. There’s one of three possibilities. One, she doesn’t know where Frederik is and is being honest with us. Two, she knows that he’s in town but hasn’t had contact with him, and she’ll seek him out to tell him that I came calling. He doesn’t know about your involvement with me, and from the way you talk about him, he’s a ladder climber. He wouldn’t turn down the opportunity to rub elbows with one of the most famous men in the world. Ah … not saying that to be egotistical, or anything. It’s just the way of things. I know you understand. But … ahem. Three, she knows exactly where he is and has had contact with him since he landed. Hell, he might have been one of those voices in the main hall that we overheard.”