Until Abbas, a little of Vojislava had remained. Abbas and his cruelty had destroyed any innocence Vanessa had carried with her from Serbia.
But she'd learned to play the part. And when Carlos had taken her, in those first few days before they'd flown to the States, she'd done her utmost to convince him that she could be, that she should be, reserved for only him. And miraculously, Carlos had taken her bait.
Instead of being moved into the rundown apartment building that housed his other possessions, the girls he'd stolen locally or imported from abroad, he'd brought her to his home, a glass-sided palace overlooking the sea. She'd shared his bed and her knowledge about his business. Eventually, she'd proved valuable to him. She knew how to motivate the girls. She was talented at matching just the right girl for the client's needs. She could find the jewels among the rubble, the girls who were sufficiently skilled and sufficiently broken to be more than street hookers. Vanessa had increased Carlos's income, and as she had, Carlos had trusted her with more and more.
She'd been with him for two years now. She'd proved her value to his business every day. She'd proved her value in his bed every night. She'd earned her place at Carlos's side.
Alone in her office—one of the smaller bedrooms off the south wing—she rubbed her belly. "Little one, you will change everything for me."
She sat at her computer and opened the chatroom where Carlos did much of his business. He'd taught her the system and codes and allowed her to take care of the day-to-day operations, allowing him to focus on his other sources of income.
She scrolled through the messages, looking for names they'd done business with before. She made calls, made deals, and made money for the rest of the afternoon. After the sun set, she yawned, amazed at how sleepy she was. This baby was taking a lot of her energy.
She was just about to close the program when another message came in.
A request for three girls. She replied, and immediately, he replied back.
Half w/ info.
Information? This was Carlos's contact in New Hampshire, the one looking for Carlos's other child and the mother who'd escaped him. The only information that man could have would relate to Kelsey and her child.
Vanessa sat back in her chair, stared at the screen. She was close to getting everything she'd ever wanted. Could this woman steal it all away? Could her child take Carlos's devotion?
No. Carlos cared for her. He hated Kelsey. Yes, he wanted his child. If Vanessa helped him get the child back and get revenge on the mother, then she would be held in the highest regard. Carlos would love her. He would be even more devoted to her, if she could do this for him.
Maybe.
She crossed the huge house to Carlos's office. It was unlocked—more proof that he trusted her, at least a little—so she let herself in and grabbed one of the many burner phones he kept for emergencies. She activated it and searched Carlos's office for the New Hampshire contact's phone number. Finally, she found it and wrote it down. Carlos wouldn't mind—he'd want her to manage this for him. He trusted her with this job.
She returned to her office and dialed.
When the man answered, she said, "It is Vanessa. Tell me what you know."
"The deal is half."
"Yes, yes," she said. "If the information is good—"
"And I want to tell Carlos myself."
She smiled, knowing he would say that. "I don't think you do. In December, somebody called with a tip about her whereabouts. The man held onto the information, trying to squeeze more money from Carlos. By the time they made a deal, she and the child had vanished. That man won't be passing along any information, late or otherwise, again."
"You, a common whore, dare to threaten me?"
She let the word roll over her like a wave of the sea. "Carlos does not suffer fools. And he does not let people speak to me that way. You can either talk to me, or you can discover those things for yourself."
A long pause followed before a huffed breath.
"I'm up here in this nothing little town a million miles from anything for one reason," he said. "To help him find her."
"And because you agreed to relocate there, you have made millions. And had a lot of fun in the process, if I'm not mistaken."
"He asked me—"
"You will get all the credit, I assure you."
"Fine. She's here, with her husband."
"You're sure?"
"Would I tell you if I wasn't sure?"
How would she know? "And the child?"
"I've seen no sign of a child, but I'll keep watching. I'm sure she'll bring him soon enough."
Just the woman. No child. What did that mean for Vanessa? "You have proof?"
"I took a couple of photos."
"Send them."
He said nothing, but a moment later, the burner phone dinged with an incoming message. She looked at the photos—a woman and a man sat side by side in the front seat of a blue Jeep. It could be Kelsey and her husband, Eric. But these photos were certainly not conclusive.
"How did you know she was there?" Vanessa asked.
"I got lucky. I'm always on the lookout for him. When I saw him walk out of the police station with a woman, I got closer. I made it to the next block and snapped these when they drove by.
"You were on foot?"
"In my car."
"Did you follow?"
"Can't do that. He knows my car as well as I know his. And he lives way out in the country. He'd be suspicious."
Interesting that the cop knew their man. "You two friends?"
"Far from it. I did drive by his house a little while later, and his Jeep was there. She must be at the house with him."
"What were you doing in town?"
"What does that matter?"
"I'm curious." Curious to know if this was true. The deal he was asking for—half price on three girls. That was a steep discount. If he was just trying to score a good deal, she needed to know.
"I was picking up dinner at McNeal's."
"A friend?"
"A restaurant downtown. Delicious. If you guys come up here, you should try it."
As if they would be tourists. "These pictures are inconclusive. You need to get better ones, soon. Then, I'll tell him."
The man huffed another breath. "Carlos will want to know now."
"I do not want him disappointed. If it's her, we can be there in a matter of hours. Keep an eye on her, get some better pictures, and text them to this address."
"If they're gone by the time you get here, that's on you. About the merchandise..."
Vanessa finalized the deal and hung up. Then she searched her computer for a good private investigator in New Hampshire and made a call.
So, Kelsey had been found, but not the child. It was the worst possible scenario. Vanessa would wait until they were certain the woman was Kelsey. She'd tell Carlos as soon as she knew for sure, whether the child was with her or not.
Her news about their baby would have to wait.
CHAPTER FOURTEEN
Eric forced the food down. What he wanted to do was pull Kelsey into his arms and kiss her until the decade they'd lost slipped from their memories.
And then what?
He could imagine what. He'd carry her up to his bedroom, and they'd go back to being the man and wife they'd once been, the man and wife he desperately wanted them to be again.
Which was why he was staring into the kitchen, forcing food down his throat. Not that frozen stir-fry would satisfy the hunger that was gnawing deeper than his stomach.
He squeezed his eyes closed, forced himself to focus.
Answers first. Until he had answers to his questions, there could be nothing else.
When his food was gone, when the dishes were put away and the pan cleaned, when he had no more excuses, he returned to the living room. Stoked the fire. Stared into the flames.
She was here. In his home. He'd always hoped, never believed, that he'd find her someday. That she'd come back to him.
But she hadn't, not voluntarily. Something had brought her to Nutfield, but it was clear from the circumstances of her arrest that she'd never intended to find him, never intended to stay. Whatever her reason for being in New Hampshire, it obviously had nothing to do with him.
He should let her go. It wasn't like he could force her to stay. And he sure didn't want a woman who didn't want him.
But she did want him. He was sure of it. Well, maybe not sure. But her kiss, her touch, the way she looked at him... He thought she still loved him. He'd thought that before, though, hadn't he? And she'd left him, gone for a decade. If she left him again, he wouldn't wait around. He'd divorce her, move on with his life. If he were smart, he'd turn her loose right now and start proceedings. Be done with it. Be done with her.
Right. Like that was an option.
He'd been whipped since the moment he'd laid eyes on her, sitting on the grass in the quad. He'd heard her voice, her accent. Seen her long legs in those short shorts, those adorable flip-flops. Stared like a fool. And she'd just smiled and waved him over.
He'd sunk like a rock in the Charles River. Classes hadn't even started yet, and he was in love.
And now that he'd found her again, was he really thinking about letting her go? Not on his life. There was a story behind her disappearance, and he needed to know it, to know who was after her, and to figure out how to keep her safe. Until he got to the bottom of all that, until he ensured her safety, Kelsey Nolan wasn't going anywhere. If that meant he had to put her back behind bars, he wouldn't hesitate. Safer in jail than on the run. For now, he had to know what he was up against. And he wasn't going to hear the story staring at his fire. He had to face it head-on.
He turned to find her watching him.
"Feeling better?" she asked.
"I'm fine."
"Okay."
He sat in one of the side chairs, tried to prepare himself. Whatever she was about to tell him, it was going to hurt. "Why don't you start from the beginning?"
Her mouth formed a little O, like she was surprised by the suggestion. Had she really thought he wouldn't ask?
She recovered fast enough. "Why don't you tell me what you know?"
"Why? So you can gauge how little you can get away with sharing?"
He waited for the flash of quick anger he remembered, but it didn't come. Her gaze remained steady and unreadable. "I don't want to waste your time."
He settled back in the chair. "I've got nothing but time."
"Fine."
But she didn't speak.
He listened to the crackling fire while she stared at him, then turned away, then looked down. "I'm just not...I don't know if I can—"
"You promised."
"I know." She sighed, met his eyes. "Danielle ran away. I knew things were bad at home, but I didn't realize how bad."
"Bad in what way?"
She shook her head, looked at her hands. "My stepbrother, Peter. He..."
Eric waited through the long pause.
"He was a pig. He was just a couple years older than I was, and sometimes, he'd get fresh with me when he'd come to visit. I didn't put up with it. I told my mother, and she told my stepfather. I don't know what they said to Peter, but he backed off." She folded her hands, unfolded them, twisted them together. "I thought... I didn't realize after I left for college how often he came around. Danielle was young and sweet and more...pliable than I was."
Eric's dinner churned in his stomach. He'd met Danielle when the family had visited Kelsey at school. She was a sweet thing, a beautiful, innocent child. Even if she'd been ugly and horrible, she'd been a child. A child should feel safe in her own home. A child should be safe in her own home. "Your parents should have kept him away from her."
"I don't know that they ever understood. Peter and I were near the same age. They assumed his interest in me had been romantic. We weren't blood related, after all. But with my little sister... I never told them everything. When she was missing didn't seem the time. And then she died."
When she didn't continue, he said, "And then you faked your death."
"I never had the opportunity to tell them. And I wouldn't have, anyway. I'm sure Mama was broken enough."
Eric decided not to respond. Kelsey's mother had paid a steep price for her neglect.
Kelsey took a deep breath and looked back at him. "Danielle didn't tell me what was going on. She begged me to let her come live with me. She said she and Mama weren't getting along. Well, I know how Mama can be. She's all about keeping up appearances. Always seemed more important to her than us. I thought that's what was wrong. I didn't realize..."
He waited for her to go on. Finally, he said, "You couldn't have known, Kels."
She shrugged. "Maybe. Maybe I was too wrapped up in school and in plans and...and in you to hear what my sister was saying."
"You were hundreds of miles away. Her own mother lived under the same roof and didn't know."
"My mother's not like yours, Eric. She wasn't focused on us, not ever. As long as we looked good and made excellent grades, she didn't care what else was going on in our lives. I always swore I'd be a better parent."
Kelsey's eyes filled with tears. The grief in her expression made his heart hurt. He stood, stepped toward her, but she waved him away. "If you want to hear the story, then you need to stay over there."
He took his seat.
"So Mama called me that night." Kelsey swiped away more tears, wouldn't look at him. "She'd bought me a ticket home, flying out of Boston, and begged me to come. Of course, she didn't know I wasn't in the city. That didn't seem the right time to tell her I'd eloped, and anyway, I had to help find my sister. You were sleeping peacefully, and I didn't want to wake you. I knew you'd want to come with me, but the tickets were expensive, and... Oh, it sounds stupid now. I thought I knew where she was. I thought I'd find her and be back by suppertime. I wrote you the note, took the rental car, and left."
He thought of the note he still carried in his pocket, written in a rush before she ran out the door. "That part I know."
"She wasn't where I thought she'd be. I found out she'd met a guy. Her friend told me an address Danielle had texted her. The police had already checked out the place. They said it was empty and promised they were following up on other leads. I was distraught. I couldn't leave. Not until I found her."
"Couldn't leave." Eric said. "Couldn't call, either, I guess. Couldn't let me know what was going on."
"You don't understand," she said. "This all happened that same day. I arrived in Savannah and went to her friend's house, where I was sure she was hiding. The friend gave me the address. I made a call, found out the police had already checked it out. I went to Mama's, saw the family, everybody sitting around, doing nothing. Mama was crying, and I couldn't stand it. I couldn't stand not doing something. You have to understand, Eric. It was torture. She was thirteen."
His anger simmered. He was too familiar with the feeling Kelsey was describing. He'd felt it himself, when she'd disappeared. Maybe Kelsey hadn't been thirteen. But she had been his bride.
He nodded for her to continue.
"I went to the address myself," she said. "It was a little house outside of Savannah in the kind of neighborhood Mama'd drive across town to avoid. There was a for-rent sign in the yard. I knocked, but there was no answer. I waited. Then I walked around and found an open window. I climbed in. It was empty. No furniture. No food in the refrigerator or cabinets. I called out, hoping I'd hear a voice, but also, hoping I wouldn't. The place was creepy, because even though it was empty, it held the scent of sweat and cologne and I don't know what else. Like a crowd of people had just walked out." She shook her head, stared into the distance. "And then, a door banged open."
Eric's insides ran cold.
"I turned, and there was a man there. He looked young, like a teenager. But maybe it was the way he dressed, because the way he carried himself—I didn't think he was as young as he wanted to seem. I thought maybe this was the man wh
o'd seduced my sister. I asked him where she was. He smiled, but it was a terrible smile. Like a cat that'd just cornered a mouse."
Her gaze dropped to her hands, and she continued. "He said, 'A twofer. My favorite.' And then he hit me. I woke up in the trunk of a car."
Eric clenched his fists, forced the shock and anger away until all he felt was horror. "Oh, Kels."
Her gaze was downward. Tears fell and plopped on her folded hands. He couldn't stand it any longer. He crossed the room, sat beside her on the sofa, and gathered her into his arms.
She wept against his shirt. He rubbed her back, failed to keep his own tears from falling. "It's okay. You're safe now."
She pushed against his chest, but he didn't let go.
"If you want to hear the rest..." Her voice was muffled against his shirt.
"It can wait," he said. "We're in no hurry. We have all the time in the world."
She sniffed, and in the barest whisper, said, "If only that were true."
CHAPTER FIFTEEN
Kelsey woke in a dark room. She bolted straight up, rubbed her wrists, checked her ankles, and hobbled to the door, where just enough light seeped beneath to show her the way. It wasn't locked.
To be sure, she pulled it open, peeked into the hallway, and closed it again.
Those old rituals should have faded years before, but some habits lingered like scars.
Dizziness caused by the sudden movement had her returning to the bed. Events of the day filtered into her memory. The arrest, the jail cell, the evening spent with Eric.
Her husband.
The story she'd begun but never finished.
How many times had she gone over that first day, the day of her capture? She'd replayed it in her own mind, with detectives, even with a federal agent way back when. She'd gone over it enough that recalling it shouldn't have brought the grief any longer, but sharing the story with Eric, all those feelings had come back. The terror. The shame. The regret. Oh, the regret. Ten thousand things she should have done differently. How many lives had been destroyed because of her naivety, her arrogance, her stupidity?
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