Page 77 of Saved By the Marines (Soldiers Of Misfortune)

Bailey

Tears welled in my eyes as my dad walked through the door. He barely shot me a look as he walked straight over to Shetland.

“You weren’t supposed to destroy a house getting to her!” Dad snapped, glaring at the other man.

“It wasn’t like I was there giving the orders,” the other man shouted back. “I told them to grab her and bring her back here. How was I supposed to know they’d cause such a scene?”

“The bigger thescene. The less quietly this will go away,” Dad snarled. “That makes it hard on both of us, Shetland.”

Shetland shrugged. “Too late now. At least we got her.”

“What we don’t have is the money promised to us.” A large intimidating man stepped forward. He glared at the two men in suits.

What was Dad doing mixing himself up with these types? And why was he a part of this plan? My heart was broken. I’d always known he didn’t care for me the way I’d hoped, but to do something like this? My thoughts flashed back to Colombia and it clicked for me. This wasn’t the first time he’d done this. Colombia had been his idea, too. It was too much of a coincidence for it not to have been him. Had Peter Coleman been in on it? Was Dad trying to kill me?

I blinked back the tears, refusing to let them fall for him. He didn’t deserve them. I tried to memorize as many faces as I could as they argued over the delayed payment.

“It’ll be there,” Dad insisted. “It was a large sum. It can take time to transfer.”

“Fuck that. We want it in cash,” the man growled.

Dad pinched the bridge of his nose. “It’s too late for cash. Especially that amount. This is the twenty-first century, no one keeps that kind of cash around. It would take days to get it together.”

The man moved closer to me and put a hand on my shoulder. I fought to repress the shudder of disgust his touch caused. The last thing I wanted him to mistake it for was fear. I wouldn’t be the weak victim waiting for them to kill me.

My hands were working furiously behind me as I tried to loosen the tape they’d used to bind me. I’d learned a bit from the first time this happened. The most important thing was I needed to stay calm.

“We’ll just have to keep her for a few days then. Until you bring us our money.”

“You think that’s a threat? The election is in a few days, you holding her for ransom is guaranteed to bring me to victory.”

“Oh yeah? You saying we can keep her then?” the man asked, cutting him off. He reached over and ripped the tape off my mouth, making me gasp in pain. “What do you think, Sweetheart? Want to come visit ole’ Ned for a few days?” He licked his lips suggestively.

I ignored him, my eyes turning to my dad. “Why are you doing this?” I tried to keep the hurt out of my tone.

His eyes shuttered, blocking out any of the emotion you’d expect to see there. “I have to, Bailey. But you’re going to be just fine.”

“He’s going to rape me,” I hissed at the man who was supposed to be my father. The one who was supposed to love and support me.

“He won’t lay-”

The lights cut out and I had to swallow back a scream. Being plunged into darkness with a bunch of dangerous men surrounding me wasn’t the ideal scenario. I doubled down working on the tape. Someone grabbed my hands and my eyes closed. Busted.

“This wasn’t supposed to happen this way,” someone whispered in my ear. I was pretty sure it was Shetland. My wrists broke free and I realized he was cutting me loose. “Run while you can. Don’t trust your father. I did, and look at me now.”

As if I’d ever give Dad the benefit of the doubt again. I edged out of the dark room while bodies stormed around. The leader of the men who’d taken me was bellowing at my father. “Did you do this? If you think we stole your daughter and you’re going to take her back without paying us, you’re in for a surprise!”

“You stupid asshole! It’s those fucking Marines, has to be!” he bellowed at them.

The sound of flesh hitting flesh was loud in my ears as I crept my way through an open door. I had no idea where I was going, but anywhere was better than here. I needed to hide before the lights came back on.

I’d much rather get out of this house, but I had nowhere to run to out here. I didn’t want to take the time to mess with the cars they’d brought me here in. It wasn’t likely they left the keys in them and I didn’t want to get caught.

Dad was right, by the sounds of it my men were here. I didn’t need to escape, I just needed to hide long enough not to get caught in a crossfire. Running as softly as I could, I made my way upstairs. I was searching for either a study or the master bedroom. I found the study first and made my way over to the desk. My eyes had grown used to the dark, but there was no moon to light up the room so when I kicked the leg of a coffee table I froze.

Thankful for my shoe, which had protected my toes, I waited to see if anyone would come charging up the stairs after me. Getting kidnapped with shoes on was so much better than with no shoes. That had made a decent thunking noise. After a few tense breaths, I kept moving across the room, searching for the desk I knew had to be in here.

I grew up with a man like Shetland. There was guaranteed to be a desk. A liquor cabinet. All those things men like them deemed necessary. They were so generic, every one of them decorated their houses the same way. My hands smoothed over cool wood. I could only mostly make out shapes in the dark, but I found the chair and sat in it while I opened drawer after drawer.

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