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

by Mia Caldwell

  Amara couldn’t hide her smile. “That’s so funny. Thinking about you with long hair and a scraggly beard, bumming rides and eating cheap fast food, living from couch to couch. Though if you wanted to get away from your raising, that’s certainly the way to do it. You did everything short of becoming a train-hopping hobo, didn’t you?”

  He returned her smile. “Actually, I considered it. When I was a lot younger, anyway. I used to dream about running away from home a lot. Even drew up some plans. I’m sure I’ve got them around somewhere, but they always involved me carrying a stick over my shoulder with everything I owned wrapped up in a big, red handkerchief dangling from the end. It was all the rage in the cartoons.”

  “I think we all had that phase. As much as I loved Momma and as much as she looked out for me, I thought I knew better sometimes. I was a good kid growing up, but we had our spats — mostly over my friends. Some of them weren’t so great. While I kinda wish I’d listened to her at the time, those harsh experiences helped me to figure out what was important to me. In a small way, it made me aware of how petty and immaterial my problems were when put up against the kind of adversity people struggle against every day in places like Nigeria, Ethiopia, Chad.”

  “So that’s how you ended up devoting your life to helping others?” Quint asked.

  “No one should ever have to go hungry. I can’t pretend, though, that I went to Nigeria because they were the most needy people — that was at least partly selfish, for the whole heritage thing. But being there put the whole region in perspective and drove home the reality of the kind of lives these people live. I can’t imagine trying to subsist off what I could grow in my little garden out behind the house, and yet, that’s what a lot of them have to resort to every time there’s a drought, a famine, any kind of disaster or war. The cassava is their safety net, and it’s failing them.”

  Quint put an arm around her waist, pulling her closer. “Did you hear anything on the news about what I was up to before the plane went down?”

  When Amara shook her head, he continued. “I was in Turkmenistan trying to get a food safety and sanitation project off the ground. They don’t have the resources for adequate, modern plumbing and composting facilities. It’s not viable. I was out there hoping to change that. When I got the call from you, I handed the work down to the vice-chair of the committee I put together to generate ideas for the region.”

  “I’m impressed.”

  “It took a little while, Amara, but that speech you gave at the convention finally sunk in. It’s not charity, it’s duty, and it’s for the good of us all.”

  Amara sighed softly as she leaned in against Quint, staring up at the stars. “We’ve never sat down and talked like this. It’s nice, Quint.”

  He nodded firmly. “It is. I can’t remember the last time I talked to anyone like this, if ever. I don’t think about my past so often, let alone show it to others. It’s a strange one, considering where I wound up in life. Yours is quite believable — you were shown the value of hard work, dedication, and love through your whole life, and it helped to shape you into the person you are today. Not so, with me. I’ve gone through phases, and I suppose this is the one the spinning wheel landed on. Vagrant, pilot, politician, billionaire, musician. It’s only now that I’m starting to realize why I was blessed with the good fortune I’ve had all this time. Maybe it was for this moment. You’ve made a difference in my life, more than you know.”

  Amara looked up at him. “I’m glad, and you’ve made a difference in mine, as well.”

  From behind them, a rustling sound could be heard within the shaded grove. Quint stood quickly, pulling Amara up with him. They turned and faced the direction the sound came from.

  Quint clutched the bag he carried, more than ready to defend it against whatever was coming out from among the trees.

  Frederik’s voice preceded his appearance. “This talk is beginning to bore me. As entertaining as your budding love is, I must interrupt.”

  Frederik stepped out into the pale moonlight mixed with yellow streetlights, clad in a trim, black suit and matching undershirt, doubtless to keep his presence hidden in the darkness.

  He crooned, “The moon is high in the sky, the festival winds down, and we come to the end of the road to settle up.”

  Chapter Thirty Two

  QUINT STRAIGHTENED UP AND BACKED away, holding Amara’s hand as they retreated in response to Frederik’s approach.

  “How long have you been there?” Quint asked.

  “Long enough to know how pitifully pedestrian your life — no, lives — are. I wonder if you can understand the meaning of family, even as you try to form one. You,” he said as he pointed toward Quint, “are insolent, ungrateful, flighty. Amara told me about you, you know. I should have connected the dots much sooner than I did. But this will be spoken on later. For now, you and I have some business to attend to, do we not? It is why we’re here, no?”

  Frederik squared up with Amara and Quint, the city spread out behind him, sporadic fireworks haloing him in unnatural hues, shadowing his smirking face. His appearance was less disheveled than the last time Amara had seen him at the university, but there was something about his eyes, the way they twitched and darted about … it was unnerving.

  With a wide gesture around the area and back toward the unpaved mountain road, he grinned. “Do you like my venue choice? Not many come here anyway, but with the festivities in the city, there’s no chance we’ll be interrupted.”

  “It’s as good as any. Let’s move this along,” Quint said.

  “Fine. The bag.” Frederik pointed to the messenger bag tucked under Quint’s arm. “Toss it over. Slowly. You would do well not to provoke me.” He opened his jacket, revealing the unmistakable shape and shine of a silvery pistol tucked in his belt.

  Quint tightened at the sight of the gun. He urged Amara to step back. “Everything is in here — documents, accounts, contracts — everything you asked for. The money was deposited after you sent the message. Without these, I can’t do anything with the account. It’s all yours. I’m sure you have the means to make sure of that, don’t you?”

  Frederik’s brow, dark as a raven’s wing, rose slowly. “You wound me, Mister Forbes. To presume I would come so unprepared as to have no method of verification … I’m not stupid. Stop stalling, and toss the bag to me. Now.”

  After sliding the strap over his head and taking it in a fist trembling with equal amounts of anger and frustration, Quint tossed it at Frederik’s feet some ten paces away.

  Frederik knelt, keeping his eyes on Quint and Amara as he opened the bag and reached inside, his position revealing the weapon again. Seeing Quint’s eyes trained on the gun, he grinned widely. “Do guns make you nervous, Forbes? It’s a coward that trembles at the sight of such a thing. I always carry this. Never know when it might be needed. For example, if you’ve made any attempt to deceive me, or try to attack me, you’ll find a bullet in your gut and another in her head. It should leave just enough time for you to watch her die before you bleed out. A dramatic end to your uninspiring peasant romance. Keep your hands where I can see them and stand still.”

  Quint gave a simple, short nod. His fist tightened further, and it became more and more clear that it was anger and tension that had him wound up and trembling, not fear. “No need for threats, Orlando. Check the contents and let’s get this over with. We all have something to gain here. Don’t be rash.”

  Frederik reached into the other side of his suit jacket and pulled out a small flashlight, his other hand opening the clasp of the messenger bag and easing out the thick envelope. He pulled the metal tabs and opened it dexterously, and soon had the bundle of documents in hand. Each was briefly checked as he nodded, his eyes darting between the papers and the couple. Once he reached the account statement, he dropped the papers on the bag itself and pulled his phone out to check the credentials and amounts.

  After several long minutes, he slipped the documents back into the enve
lope, and the envelope into the bag before he stood, leaving it at his feet. “Good. Everything is in order. I must admit, I’d almost hoped for some deception. I’ve had a burning need for vengeance, in case you haven’t noticed. Isn’t that strange? All I’ve been able to think about for the last few days is making your lives a living torment. How have I done so far?”

  He paused for a response, and when none came, he rushed on. “Have you been sufficiently terrified? Have you suffered in the vacuum of information I created for you, hmm? Answer me!”

  Amara took a quick step forward to stand at Quint’s side, anger plain on her face. “Yes. Is that what you want to hear? How miserable you’ve made me, how much you’ve made me worry? I’ve hardly slept thinking about the welfare of my son and can’t stand the thought of him being with a monster like you. You’ve made my life hell, Frederik. Enjoy your revenge.”

  He seemed as if he were going to reach for the weapon before he crossed his arms, tilted his head up and back, and regarded her coldly. “Good, good. I’m glad. You know exactly what you did to me, and why you so richly deserve the comeuppance you’ve received, don’t you?”

  Her jaw tensed, and she trembled. Every part of her wanted to lash out at him, to slap him as she should have when he taunted her on campus. “I know what I did.”

  Frederik chuckled, shaking his head. “No, I don’t think that you do. How could you? You were not there as I suffered the judgment of people who were my peers, my colleagues, my sponsors, my superiors and even my underlings. You cannot understand the stigma that was attached to me after your manipulations and lies.”

  “My heart breaks for you,” Amara said snidely, unable to resist.

  Quint reached around her and pulled her in close to his side, giving her a look of warning.

  “That’s right, Forbes,” Frederik said. “Keep your woman in check. Or would you like me to control her? I can, you know. She thinks she knows what she’s doing, but she most certainly does not.”

  Quint glared at Frederik. Amara bit back her own terse response.

  Frederik’s smile was contemptuous. “When the information began going around about you being pregnant, Amara, I’ll admit I had some sorrow. It’s not that I wanted you to have my child. Oh, no, I never had any intention of starting a family with a peasant like you. The very idea makes me sick. No, I felt sorrow because I hadn’t realized what a loose commoner you were. Then people began talking about how you had cheated on me when we were together, and they said you left me for another man. Yes, Amara, they said such a thing. And I know it came from you. Lies from the liar.”

  “I never said anything like that,” Amara said. “People gossip and make things up. You know how they can be.”

  “Oh yes, blame everyone else. You are good at that. But even if what you say is true, you didn’t correct them, did you?”

  “No.”

  “Aha!” he exclaimed, waving his arm in triumph as if she’d just confessed to the crime of the century. “You wanted them to think the worst of me. You wanted to ruin me because I left you.”

  Amara couldn’t think of a response to the outlandish statement.

  Frederik shrugged. “You should have realized you are not fit to add to the Orlando legacy, Amara. You never were. I was only with you the way men are with loose women. This is why you have attacked me again and again.”

  She let out a small, bitter laugh. “I’ve never attacked you. And I wouldn’t want to be any part of your family, Frederik. Coming here has only made that even more clear to me. We spoke with more than a few of your relatives in Montevideo, both at the estate and elsewhere. Snobbish and dismissive at the villa, destitute and eccentric in the city. Not my kind of people.”

  Frederik’s hand slipped inside his jacket, and he pulled out the gun, holding it tight at his side. “You will not speak another ill word of my family, you fucking peasant. You’re lucky to have laid eyes on any of them! It’s only through your sugar daddy’s notoriety that you were even allowed on the grounds of my family’s estate. It must have been, because there’s no way they’d admit an unworthy American like you who was looking for me, of all people. I am the jewel of the Orlandos, and the Orlandos are not known for tossing the jewels before the swine.”

  Quint squeezed her tightly, but she didn’t need it. She knew she’d gone too far.

  She tried not to stare at Frederik’s gun and willed herself to be calm. “I’m sure you’re quite the jewel. Moved to America, became successful. I’m sure your family is very proud of you, and I shouldn’t have antagonized you. I don’t want any of this, Frederik. Can we get this over with? You have what you asked for, don’t you?”

  “Of course, of course. The money is there, no doubt about it.” He idly tapped the gun at his side as he studied her. “You ruined my life, you know. It is hard to admit that someone as naive and backward as you could damage my credibility and social status. I had not realized how fickle and stupid the people around me were. I gave them far more credit than I should have. They saw me as heartless, as cruel, as a cuckold, all because you lied to them. I bet it felt good to drag my name through the dirt, didn’t it? Especially after humiliating me in front of the board who wanted to buy your inconsequential work. You should have been happy to sell to them, but your precious principles pushed you away from the deal of a lifetime. You deprived me of my share of the work then and again when you accepted the Carrington Award on your own.”

  Amara’s brow came down, and though she’d tried to move away from antagonizing him, she couldn’t help but respond. “What do you mean, your share? What did you do to earn a share, Frederik?”

  He took a quick step toward them with the gun drawn up to eye level, pointed squarely at Quint.

  Chapter Thirty Three

  “I MADE YOU,” FREDERIK SAID. “You are nothing without me, Amara. You would have nothing without me. I took you from the dirt you wallowed in before me and lifted you to a great height. Girlfriend to an Orlando. You used my name to garner funding. Then you lied. You killed my credibility.” He spat at her feet, his lip curled in disgust.

  “What do you mean, I lied?” she asked, fear lending an unwanted tremor to her voice. “You told the sponsors that I falsified my work. You undid all the progress I was making. The only reason I was able to go on was Quint’s help. If you hadn’t done that, if you hadn’t lied, none of this would have happened.

  “Shut up! I was justified in doing that. I saved those sponsors the trouble of dealing with your idealism and your stubbornness. Your selfishness, however, was baseless and cruel. You denied me the honor that was rightfully mine when you took all the credit and accepted the Carrington Award. No one was helped by that but you. You —”

  Amara interjected, desperate to defuse the situation. “Please, Frederik, just …” She shrank back slightly, but put herself halfway between the two men. “Give us Hampton, and we can all go our separate ways.”

  Frederik kept the gun leveled at Quint for a long moment before he lowered it to his side. “Mmm. All go our separate ways? All of us? You would never leave Forbes. No, you’ve found a benefactor, someone to finance your pointless work. You have no need of sponsors now, isn’t that right? You two are off to save the world together … what a joke.”

  He gave a low growl before slipping the weapon into his jacket pocket. He began pacing in front of them, growing increasingly animated. “Everything was fine before I got involved with you. I had the respect of the people in my field. My name was known, independent of my family. I stood on my own merit, and no one could impugn my credibility or genius. You took that from me. You are heartless. An evil, manipulative succubus.”

  Amara endured his accusations silently, certain that any further antagonism would have the pistol out in an instant, and it likely wouldn’t go back into its place without him following through on his threat.

  “And you. You.” He pointed at Quint. He ground his teeth, his chest rising and falling more rapidly. “Rich man. Mister fucking mo
ney. I have money too, Forbes. Power. Influence. Your power comes from nowhere but your money. You have no family. No dynasty. My family has been here since the conquistadors came ashore. My blood, my name, is gold here. You are nothing. You think being rich alone will get you what you want, hmm? You think your money will help you to win this, as it has helped you to pursue me? Do you think all your problems can be solved with a bank transfer?”

  His demeanor shifted suddenly, and he laughed almost warmly before turning his gaze to Amara. “You … aha, you want to know how this all came to be, Amara? How do I know what I know? For instance, how do I know Mr. Rich Man is the father of your bastard?”

  Amara wanted to know the answer to this question, but she wouldn’t give him the satisfaction of showing it. She didn’t respond.

  “I’ve known a long time, Amara,” Frederik said. “Months. Perhaps you might remember having a chat in the hospital the day you gave birth.”

  Her talk with Kari? How could he know about that?

  Frederik rushed on, agitated and eager to brag. “You remember your stupid friend coming to visit, don’t you? The ridiculous artist?”

  She nodded sharply.

  “I could never stand her,” Frederik said. “Useless woman in a useless field. Believed such brainless things. Crystals and spirits. Every time I was forced to endure her intolerable presence, I detested her more. That is not the point, however. Your mother, she left your room, and I hid from her as she passed. I was coming to see you. I had come to confront you about you denying me my rightful credit with the Carrington Award. I wanted an explanation for why you had cheated me, though I realized, deep down, you could never defend such a despicable action.”

  He pointed a finger at Amara. “You had a secret. Of course, your stupid friend did not close the door to your room completely. It was a trivial matter to listen in to her incessant prattling. I could smell that noxious gift she brought, hear every word. Then … mmm. You came clean with her. Not only were you planning to give your child away, you had made an unholy arrangement with this man.” A quick point toward Quint. “Oh, I can’t begin to tell you how sweet that moment was. I already knew this man was dead. Unlike you, I wasn’t caught with my dirty feet in the stirrups when the plane crash happened. I’ll never be able to describe what I felt at that moment. I was so angry with you for having lied to everyone, but I was overjoyed that the man was dead. I wanted to rush into your room right then and shout the news of his death. To watch you crumble. But I thought then to move with more care. More planning.”