Page 28 of The Captive
She faltered.“Who did you send?”
“A mercenary, one of the best in the world.”Encouragement rang from the other end of the line.“He’s going to find her, Sarah, and he’s going to bring her home safely.I promise you that.”
She drew in a long breath, fixing her gaze on the dark water ahead.“Okay,” she said, her voice soft and lacking the confidence her husband seemed to be feeling.“Just get our baby home, Hank.Please.”
“I will,” he vowed.
Sarah ended the connection and tucked the phone into her pocket.Then she wrapped her arms around her chest and slowly walked back to the house.
* * *
Okay, sosoonwas a relative term, Lana decided after two more weeks had passed and the truth about the baby had yet to reach Deacon’s ears.But she’dtried.Each time he came into the room brandishing another delicious meal, she came close to revealing the pregnancy.Once, she’d even babbled on about what a lively baby she’d been, hoping it would provide a smooth interlude into “maybe the baby we’re having will be lively, too.”
But the words refused to reach the surface, and Deacon’s gruff, aloof demeanor hadn’t helped any.He’d shut down on her again.Ever since the kiss, he kept her at arm’s length.The afternoon walks continued, but they lacked any and all discussion.She’d run out of stories to tell him, so now they walked in silence, while Le Clair fumed on the porch—when he wasn’t taking off for days at a time.
Le Clair’s frequent absences had begun to worry Lana.What was going on in the real world?Why was she stillhere?
It pained her to admit it, but evidently the clues she’d tried giving her father had gone unnoticed.Somehow she doubted her family was up in a helicopter searching thesemountains.She would’ve heard the whir of rotors overhead, and besides, it wouldn’t take two weeks to comb the entire area.There were only a handful of accessible locations near Sacramento, which meant that her father hadn’t picked up on the wordcapitaland if he had, he hadn’t connected it with California.
She’d been a prisoner for more than a month, and with each day that passed, hope began slipping away.She tried clinging to it, squeezing it between her fingers before she lost it completely, but every hour, every minute, scissors of fear hacked away at that ribbon of hope.
“I’m going to die here,” she whispered into the darkness.
The sun had just set, and Deacon had already taken away her dinner tray.That meant she got to spend the rest of the night in this room, alone.The papers and charcoal were abandoned on the desk.She’d given up on sketching days ago, no longer able to muster up any creativity.
Her voice cracked as she spoke to her unborn child.“Oh, baby, what are we going to do?”
Tears stuck to her lashes, then broke free and streamed down her cheeks, leaving watery trails on her skin.She was pregnant and alone and so far away from her family, in emotional distance at least.She missed them all desperately, even more than when she’d been away at school.
“I’m scared.”The two syllables slipped through her lips, the terror and misery they resonated hanging in the dark room like a relentless fog.
She tried not to show that fear when Deacon was around, but he must be picking up on it by now.If he only knew how deep the fear truly ran.Already, her body had begun to show the signs of her condition.Her breasts were growing fuller, and they ached all the time now.Her belly was still flat, but how much longer would it remain that way?A month?Two?A tremor of distress ran through her.When ababy bump made an appearance, she’d have no way of keeping the truth from Deacon.She’d made a show of taking a tampon out of her toiletry case, under the pretense that she was on her cycle, but soon she wouldn’t be able to fool him.
Lana wiped away her tears, soaking the sleeve of her flannel shirt.It was one of the shirts her captors had purchased for her, serving as another reminder that she had zero control over her own life.She was trapped, a caged animal at the mercy of its handlers.She depended on them for food, shelter, warmth.Supervised walks.Locked door.She didn’t even know what day it was anymore.Definitely mid-October by now, but what was the date?Her uncle Donald’s birthday was on the fourteenth.Had she missed it?Had her family flown to Montana as they always did?Her father, probably not.He and Don had been estranged for years, and Hank Kelley made no effort to be cordial to his brother.
But what about Mom?Dylan?Had they celebrated the occasion on Cole’s ranch?Was Jim on an assignment?Had Jake returned from his?
So many questions, and not a single answer.All she knew was that she wasn’t sure how much longer she could stand this.
“No,” she said aloud, her hand curling protectively over her belly.“Your mommy will stand it for as long as she needs to.Nothing is going to happen to you, baby.I promise.”
Her blood hummed with a sudden rush of strength.She refused to give in to this hopelessness.She was a Kelley.She came from a long line of strong, confident women capable of surviving anything in their path.This was just a minor hiccup, a rocky obstacle in the road.
“Iwillovercome this,” she whispered with the lift of her chin.
As if a higher power had decided to applaud her fortitude, a gust of wind shook the window.Lana jumped, her pulse speeding up then slowing as she laughed in the darkness.“Just the wind,” she soothed, rubbing her tummy.“Mommy’s being jumpy.”
But then the window rattled again, and this time, the speedy kick of her pulse had nothing to do with fear.There was someone out there!Someone outside the window, signaling to get her attention.
Deacon?Had he finally decided to get her out of here?
Lana stumbled off the bed and bounded to the window, her blond hair falling into her eyes.She shoved the errant strands away and focused on the dirty windowpane.
Her heart nearly stopped when a shadowy face appeared in front of the glass.
Lana sucked in her breath.It wasn’t Deacon, that much she could tell.The man on the other side of the window had a goatee circling his mouth.The moment their gazes locked, the stranger raised his finger to his lips, urging her to remain silent, but Lana’s throat was so tight with emotion she wouldn’t have been able to make a sound anyway.
She was being rescued!
