Page 16 of The Captive
And the knowledge that Le Clair had also noticed Lana’s ethereal beauty sent uneasiness soaring through him.If Le Clair evenlookedat her the wrong way, Deacon wasn’t sure what he would do.He’d promised to keep her safe, and he had no intention of letting Le Clair get his grubby hands on her.
But he couldn’t challenge Le Clair, either.From the moment Deacon had accepted this gig, he’d known it wouldn’t be like the others.The people he’d worked for in the past were innocent little lambs compared to Paul Le Clair.The man was a stone-cold killer, with a total disregard for other human beings, not to mention a complete lack of restraint.If Lana so much as sneezed wrong, Le Clair wouldn’t hesitate to kill her, and that troubled the hell out of Deacon.
God, his head was spinning.It was becoming tiring, trying to stay focused on this job.He had Le Clair breathing down his neck, Lana gazing at him with those betrayed blue eyes, his conscience yelling at him for his part in this, his brain reminding him that survival and self-preservation should always come first.
It was getting hard keeping it together, and the assignment had just begun.
How on earth was he going to see it through without going absolutely freaking insane?
* * *
The loud ringing of her cell phone drew Sarah Mistler Kelley from a troubled sleep.Instantly alert, she reached for the phone, which she’d set on the antique mahogany nightstand by the luxurious bed in the guest room of Vivienne Kemp’s rambling beach house.Sarah had been staying with her old friend ever since the news of her husband’s infidelities hit the tabloids.The wife of a senator, Sarah had gotten used to being hounded by the press.
But never for this reason.
Swallowing down the golf-ball-size lump in the back of her throat, Sarah glanced at the caller ID.Her bitterness heightened.Hank.The number flashing across the screen of her BlackBerry was that of her husband’s cell phone—it was not the long-distance number she’d been hoping for.
Sighing, she set the phone back down.Hank had been calling non-stop since she’d walked out of their Beverly Hills mansion.She’d diligently avoided each call, and tonight would be no different.
Sarah leaned against the headboard, listening to the sound of the waves crashing against the wooden stilts beneath the enormous house.The ocean was choppy tonight, as turbulent as her emotions.A terrible feeling had been gnawing at the pit of her stomach since yesterday evening, when her daughter hadn’t phoned as she’d promised.
Lana was a big girl, Sarah was well aware of that, but a part of her still wasn’t able to accept it.Lana would always be her baby, the tiny miracle that had come to her when she’d considered herself too old to bear any more children.And she’d forever have a soft spot for her youngest, the lone female after a long line of big, strapping boys.
The phone rang again, making her jump.She’d opted for a utilitarian ring tone, unlike the fancy Mozart symphony her husband had chosen for his phone.Hank Kelley was all about flash.Always had been, always would be.
Sarah’s lips tightened when she saw his number again.Twice in two minutes.The man must be getting desperate.
“Good,” she muttered to herself.
He deserved to feel desperate, after the way he’d treated her.
The ringing stopped, but the relief she experienced didn’t last long, as the phone came to life again a second later.
Concern sparked in her belly.This couldn’t be good.Three calls.Biting back her anger, she picked up the phone and said, “What do you want, Hank?”
“Sarah!Thank God!”
Her body instantly tensed, and not just because she was talking to her estranged husband.There was deep worry lining that gruff voice—and Hank wasn’t prone to worrying.When a problem arose, he brushed it off, letting someone else take care of it, and it was usually his wife who ended up cleaning his messes.
“What’s wrong?”she asked immediately.“Is it one of the children?”
He paused for a long beat.“Have you spoken to Lana?”
That nagging feeling that had plagued her for more than a day came rushing back.“No, I haven’t.She was supposed to call me yesterday when she got to Florence, but she never did.”
“I was afraid of that.”
Sarah clutched the phone tighter, her knuckles turning white from the force of her grip.“What’s going on, Hank?Do you know why Lana didn’t call me?”
There was a deafening silence.
“Hank.”
“She’s disappeared,” he finally said.
Sarah’s heart stopped.“What do you mean, she’s disappeared?”
“She boarded the train in Paris, and nobody has seen her since.And this morning…I got a call.”
