Page 18 of The Captive
“Your granddaddy is going to pay the bad men whatever they want,” she continued softly, stroking her stomach.“And then we’ll go home.You’re going to love your grandparents’ house.It’s big and beautiful and you’ll have so much room to play….”
Her voice drifted, as she realized she had no clue if she and the baby would even live in the Beverly Hills mansion.She probably ought to get her own place, or maybe find a cozy little ranch house in Montana, near the Bar Lazy K, her brother Cole’s ranch.But her mother would probably want her close by.Mom would adore being a grandma.Her eldest brother, Chase, had two kids with his wife, but Lana’s mother didn’t get to see them often.Only once ayear, when she flew out to Chase’s cattle station in Australia.Chase hadn’t returned to the States since he’d left at the age of eighteen, determined to be rid of his father.
Lana didn’t understand her older brother’s decision.Their dad might not be the best paternal role model, but he was still family.She had no intention of ever abandoning her family the way Chase had.
God, she missed them.Cole and Dylan, the handsome serious twins.Jake, with his reckless love of adventure.Jim, only a year older than her and yet her biggest protector.And her mother.God, she wondered how Mom was faring.First the shocking revelation of Hank’s affairs and now her daughter kidnapped.
Tears stung Lana’s eyes.She moved away from the window, just as the lock clicked and the door swung open.Deacon’s broad frame filled the doorway.He held a small plate loaded with thin slices of carrots and celery.
“I thought you might want a snack,” he said, his features creased with hesitation.
She swiped at her tears with the sleeve of her burgundy mohair sweater.“Thanks,” she said dully, sinking onto the edge of the bed.
Deacon handed her the plate, and though she was too depressed to eat, she mechanically bit into one carrot and forced herself to chew.The baby needed nourishment, and she refused to deprive it of a solitary thing.So far, she hadn’t experienced any morning sickness, which was fortunate.She had no clue how she’d explain it to Deacon, who would be the one taking her to and from the bathroom if her stomach began to rebel.
“How are you doing?”he asked.
“Gee,Delta.” She used the name she heard the other men call him, mostly out of spite.“I’m doing great.I’m locked up in a tiny room.I’m not allowed to go outside.I get allmy meals brought in to me like I’m a naughty child who can’t eat with the grown-ups.I’ve been kidnapped.By a man I had sex with, no less.Oh, and my back hurts.Any other questions?”
“You’d like to go outside?”
She faltered.Seriously?Out of everything she’d just unloaded on him,thatwas what he hung on to?But she decided to dial down on the anger.Truth was, she was tired of being cooped up inside.
“Yes, actually, I would.”
“Put on your coat then.It’s windy out there.”
She hid her shock.Not wanting to look a gift horse in the mouth, she set the plate down on the desk and reached for the knee-length red parka her captors had given her.She had a feeling red was a deliberate choice of color.She’d be more likely to stand out in this bland landscape if she tried to run.
She put on the coat, zipped it up to the neck, then undid her ponytail and let her hair loose.She noticed Deacon watching her with an indefinable expression, his serious eyes resting on the long blond tresses falling over her shoulders.
“What?”she said, oddly defensive.
He cleared his throat.“Nothing.Come on, let’s go.”
She didn’t object as he took her arm and led her out the door.She suspected idyllic strolls in the mountains weren’t what Le Clair had had in mind when he’d arranged to kidnap her, and she was grateful that Deacon was being so nice about it.
Nice?
She’d obviously gone nuts.There was nothing nice about any of this.She was a prisoner, for Pete’s sake.
“Stockholm syndrome,” she mumbled under her breath.
Deacon cocked his head.“What?”
“Nothing.”
When they entered the living room, Lana saw Tango, aka Scar Cheek, lying on one couch, while the enormous man she now recognized as Kilo sat in a ratty old recliner, his eyes closed.Those eyes snapped open the moment Deacon and Lana entered, and a harsh scowl immediately spread across the man’s mouth.
“What’s she doing out here?”Kilo demanded, glaring at Deacon.
“Getting some air,” Deacon replied lightly.
“Does the boss know about this?”
“He will soon.”Deacon kept his tone casual as he walked Lana to the front door.
The moment they stepped on the porch, a gust of wind slammed into her, making her hair blow around in all directions.But the chill of the breeze was nothing compared to the cold gunmetal-gray eyes they encountered.
