Page 6 of The Ties That Bind

She scrunched her nose, pondering. “Why didn’t you?”

“Why didn’t I what?”

“Get the cops involved.” She smoothed down her dress, and he watched her hands glide over every delicious curve.

He laughed helplessly, bent in half, and took great, shuddering breaths until he could control himself again. “You’re not serious.”

“It sounds like your sister was kidnapped before I was. Seems like something the police could handle.” She looked at him expectantly, waiting.

“You truly are naïve if you think the cops are going to waste their time on a known drug addict from down by the docks. Especially if I accused suchupstanding citizens,” his lip curled in disgust, “as your folks. Be serious, princess. Who would you believe?”

She sighed. “You’re right.” He blinked, eyes wide in astonishment, before she hurried to add, “About who the police would believe. Not about my parents being involved.” She thought for a moment. “It would be better if I could call to ask—”

“Not happening,” he interrupted. “Tell me what to text, and we’ll see if this works.”

With an annoyed eye roll, she dictated a brief message. He read it over three times before hitting send. “Now we wait.”

Chapter Four

He didn’t have to wait long. Her father texted back within the hour, asking why Elle hadn’t mentioned this to him at dinner the night before. Something was up. Alec read over the message again, searching for any clues in the text he may have missed. Some secret SOS she’d encoded in the otherwise straightforward request.

Or maybe he was just an idiot, and even super rich drug lords didn’t hand out money like candy, even to their favorite daughter. Alec wouldn’t know—his family never had any money growing up. His mom was a junkie who abandoned them when he and Caitlin were barely teenagers, and they’d never known their fathers. Alec took a job at the boat repair shop at fourteen to make ends meet, and over the last ten years he’d put all his blood, sweat, and tears into the old business, hoping to buy it off the current owner when he decided to retire in a few years.

He slumped in the beat-up chair behind the cashier’s desk, stuffing spilling onto the floor around him. Mr. Latto was on vacation for the week, so Alec had the shop to himself. Plus it was the slow season, so he doubted he’d have to worry about a customer walking in on him. “I don’t have time for this,” he growled. Before he could slow down and think better of it, he marched downstairs to the supply room/workshop, flashed the phone in Elle’s face to open it, and marched back upstairs before she could make a peep. He didn’t need her clouding his thoughts.

The phone rang twice before a high, reedy male voice answered. “Elle, sweetheart?”

“I’m afraid Elle can’t come to the phone right now, Dr. Keller.” Alec’s voice dripped with barely contained rage. He would reach through the phone and throttle the smug bastard if he could.

“Who is this?”

“Doesn’t matter. All you need to know is that she’s staying with me until Caitlin is released, unharmed, with her debt forgiven. And you and your cronies never bother her again.”

“Ah. You must be the brother.” The doctor sighed. “You don’t want to play this game with me, boy.”

Alec spoke through clenched teeth. “I want nothing to do with you. This is very simple. Let Caitlin go, and I let Elle go. Now.” He found the picture he’d taken of his captive and sent it to her father. “I’m afraid my accommodations are rather lacking from what your princess has come to expect.”

Silence stretched on the other end, long and fraught. Alec waited patiently. He wouldn’t be the first to blink. When the other man finally spoke, it was cold, dispassionate. “You’ll come to regret this. I’ll be in touch.” He hung up before Alec could ask for details. It was probably for the best. In spite of Alec’s bravado, he was pretty sure he’d nearly pissed himself. That his sister was at the mercy of a man who could be so apathetic when hearing about his own daughter’s kidnapping was frankly chilling.

“Get it together, man,” he chided himself. “This will work. It has to work.” His stomach rumbled, clearly unaware that now was not the time. Alec couldn’t remember the last time he had a solid meal—he’d been living off pretzels and beer nuts for the last couple days. There was nothing but ancient protein bars at the shop, and his stomach roiled at the thought of trying to choke one down.

He remembered Elle mentioned a burrito place nearby. He could be there and back in ten minutes. While it seemed like a supremely bad idea to leave his hostage alone for any amount of time, he knew he’d have to eventually. Plus she was probably starving, too. He always was after a night of tequila shots.

“Fuck it.” He tossed the “Closed” sign on the door and set off at a jog. He needed to stay sharp, and to do that, he needed real food. A cheesy breakfast burrito stuffed with eggs and spiced potatoes was just what the doctor ordered. He shook his head at that thought, wondering if he’d ever go to another doctor again. He made a mental note to teach himself field dressing.

Fortunately, the dust on the door to the shop was undisturbed when he jogged back nine minutes later. He carefully made his way to the basement, staying quiet in case Elle was sleeping.

She was stretched out on the bed, free arm thrown over her face to cover her eyes, her breathing soft and even. The thin strap of her dress was sliding off her shoulder again, and her feet were tucked behind her.She looks like an angel.

“Fuck me, is that Kojo’s?”An angel with a mouth, he amended.

Elle rolled herself to a seated position, her dress hiking up her ivory thighs as she did. “If this is the torture portion of my captivity, it’s seriously fucked up.” She stood and tried to walk to the fence between them before remembering her shackles, letting out a frustrated huff. Her lip curled in annoyance.

“I was hungry. Figured you might be, too.” He opened the plastic bag and pulled out two burritos and two sodas. “You a carne asada girl?”

“Give it. Now.”

“Easy, princess. Manners.” He tried to push the monster burrito through the links in the fence, cursing when the girthy food wouldn’t fit.

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