The Ransom (22 page)

Jett looked equally dubious. He stood on the far side of the room, not far from Zara. From the expression on her face, she was also far from sharing her stepmother’s confidence in the good will of the notorious president of the Redbacks.

Lane had tried hard to ignore Zara, but despite his best efforts, his gaze was drawn to her again and again. She was so delicate, so ethereal, so beautiful. Her eyes were wide and dark with fear and concern for a little girl she barely knew…who was still out there, missing. Her kindness and compassion was so far removed from the cold and narcissistic attitude of her stepmother, it was difficult not to be knocked off balance.

How could a girl so obviously concerned about her little sister’s new friend have grown up in a household ruled by a woman such as Allison?
It was beyond him to even imagine how she’d learned to demonstrate the tolerance, goodness and mercy she displayed. He could only assume David had more substance to him than met the eye. Right at that moment, Lane was feeling a good deal less kindly toward the Attorney General.

If the man had told them the truth from the beginning, they could have been a long way ahead on their investigation. Olivia Munro might even now be with her parents, safe and sound at home.

Instead, they were here, standing tense inside the AG’s office, waiting for a phone call from an infamous criminal; a phone call they had only a drug addict’s assurances would come. Lane’s lips twisted in derision.
Did it get any better?
When his phone vibrated against the inside of his shirt pocket, he welcomed the distraction. He tugged out his cell and checked the Caller ID.

Clayton
.

Turning away, he answered the call and then listened, dumbstruck, as Clayton relayed the events of the last few minutes. When he was finished, Lane ended the call and stared into space, feeling blindsided. Zara was the first to notice.

“What is it?” Her softly voiced question was full of concern. He struggled to speak against a sudden surge of emotion. She moved closer and touched his arm. Warmth seeped through his shirt sleeve and into his skin.

He looked up and held her gaze, unable to look away—until the moment was broken by Jett.

“Who was it, Lane? What’s happened?”

Lane blinked to clear his head and turned to face Jett. “It was Clayton. They’ve received a ransom demand. Another one. The technicians have traced the call to Boris Vukovic’s house. Ellie told Clayton the caller was a man with a heavy accent. The stupid asshole was calling from his home phone.”

“Vukovic. That’s the Redbacks’ biker Brittany identified,” Jett said.

“Yes. The house we raided earlier and came up empty. Strangely enough, he’s lowered the asking price. Two hundred thousand.”

Jett frowned and then stared hard at the Attorney General. “What the hell’s going on?”

“I agree,” Lane said, barely holding on to his anger. He turned a grim look on David.

“First you admit you lied when you said you’d received a threatening phone call about your political stance on outlaw motorcycle gangs and then you expect us to believe the demand for a million dollars is nothing more than for payment of your wife’s drug debt. You’ve almost convinced me Draco Jovanovic is single-handedly behind all of this and now Clayton Munro’s received another ransom demand—not from Jovanovic, but from his off sider.” Lane paused to drag in a breath. “What the hell’s going on, Attorney General? And this time, we want the truth.”

Dowton was pale and trembling. He looked like he’d aged a hundred years. In different circumstances, Lane might have felt sorry for him, but right now, sympathy was the last thing on his mind.

“Talk,”
Lane yelled and Dowton jumped. Zara moved away.

“I-I don’t know. Jovanovic was the only one I dealt with. He brought Vukovic with him the night he came here to demand payment, but it was Jovanovic who did all the talking. It looked to me like Vukovic was nothing more than the hired muscle. Until then, I had no idea Allison’s addiction had spiraled so far out of control. It’s not my fault that—”

“Bullshit,” Lane exploded, his temper escaping at last. “You should have gone to the police a fortnight ago, the very minute Jovanovic and his cohort stepped out of your house. You should have told us what happened. Okay, you didn’t know they’d kidnap Olivia, but none of this would have happened if you’d gone to the authorities. It’s called extortion, Attorney General. We pride ourselves on taking something like that very seriously.”

Refusing to temper his tone, Lane got up in the AG’s face. “None of this would have happened if you’d done the right thing instead of pretending you had everything under control. Olivia Munro would still be at home, oblivious to the ugliness in this world, growing up loved and protected and safe, like she ought to. You’re responsible for fucking that up. You, and you alone—and I won’t waste a second listening to your excuses.”

He spun on his heel and included Allison in his hard, angry gaze. The woman still held her phone, presumably waiting for Draco to call.

“Why has one of Jovanovic’s henchmen called with another ransom demand? Why has he changed the terms? He’s not only asked for a shitload less money, he’s also extended the time limit. We now have until six on Tuesday morning to gather the money and he’s finally given us a drop-off point. It’s as if Vukovic’s suddenly been put in charge.”

He strode toward Allison, his narrowed eyes never once leaving her face. He leaned over her and jammed his face close to hers, daring her to object. “You told us you owed the money to Draco. Why is Vukovic calling the shots? You know these people better than any of us. What the hell’s going on?”

Allison’s face turned pale and her expression was scared and confused. “I don’t know. It’s the truth. I don’t have a clue why Draco would hand it over to Boris. He’s always making fun of the man and tells anyone who will listen how stupid Boris is.” She shook her head. “I don’t understand. It doesn’t even make sense to me.”

Lane bit out an oath and spun on his heel, determined to leave the room. He had to get back to the station and work out their next move.

“What are you going to do?”

Zara’s question stilled his progress toward the door. He turned and met her turbulent gaze.

“We’re going to do exactly as he says and get that little girl back.”

She stared at him. The other people in the room fell away until it felt like it was only the two of them. For long moments, neither said a word.

“Be careful,” she murmured.

Lane nodded once and turned to leave, Jett close behind him.

* * *

Draco dragged on his cigarette and then slid lower in his seat. He stared at the parade of cars exiting the Attorney General’s residence. Despite the lateness of the hour, the house was ablaze with lights and he could only assume it had something to do with his demand for a million dollars.

First to leave was an unmarked cop car. The detective who’d questioned him earlier was behind the wheel. It was followed shortly by the Attorney General himself, hunkered down in a brand new LFA Lexus. Looking neither left nor right, Allison’s husband departed the estate with a squeal of tires.

Draco whistled under his breath, impressed despite himself. No wonder the bitch could afford to smoke ice like it cost no more than a pack of gum and no wonder she’d blithely assured him her husband could come up with the money. By the look of things, a million was small change. The car alone was worth more than half of that and had only just hit the Australian market. The AG had to have some serious coin or some considerable influence. Probably both.

There was a lull in the abrupt departures from the mansion and Draco was just about to leave when a silver BMW Roadster fitting the description of the car that belonged to Zara Dowton, filled the entryway and headed past him.

The roof was up, but as the car reached the street light, he caught a glimpse of a small, pale face and a cloud of dark hair before the driver sped away. His body tightened in anticipation. This was going to be so much fun.

CHAPTER TWENTY-THREE

Sunday, January 28, 11:03 p.m.

Thoughts of Lane and Allison and her father crowded Zara’s mind. She was oblivious to the steady stream of late-night traffic around her. Her only need was to get as far away from her home as possible.

It was a home she’d lived in all her life. The only home she’d known—and yet, tonight, she realized she no longer recognized most of its inhabitants. She’d listened to her stepmother’s casual admissions and her father’s shame-faced explanations and had shook her head in horror at what she’d failed to see right beneath her nose.

How could she not have known about Allison’s drug habit?
Why had she just excused the woman’s erratic behaviour, the mood swings, the surliness as merely a poor attitude from a woman who had never taken to the role of her stepmother?

Zara prided herself on being an intelligent, observant person. It was inconceivable that she’d failed to see what was right before her eyes. Her stepmother was a drug addict: An egotistical, selfish, irresponsible drug addict. What was worse, it was obvious her father knew. Had always known. And had done nothing about it. He hadn’t even felt the need to tell his adult daughter.

The anger that resonated through Zara threatened to overwhelm her. Heat seared her cheeks and pressure built up behind her eyes. She blinked hard to keep back the tears.

Crying would solve nothing and she refused to feel sorry for herself. Her father had made a choice when he remarried more than ten years ago. She’d tried so hard to remain unaffected; to be happy that her father had once again found love. She only wished she’d had memories of her real mother to cling to. It would have made it easier to accept that her father had more than moved on.

Over the years, his career had flourished. Not long after he’d acquired a new wife, he also gained a new daughter. He was happy, his life was enviable. At least, that’s how it had appeared. Now, she realized all that had been a smokescreen: A carefully crafted, immaculately thought-out pretense. And in one fell swoop, the façade had come crumbling down.

She wished she could feel satisfaction at how far her stepmother had fallen, but she couldn’t. Her father was obviously hurting and Zara’s heart became heavy at the thought of how the truth about Allison might affect little Brittany. Zara didn’t take even the tiniest amount of pleasure from the knowledge Allison’s life would never be the same again.

She thought of Lane and longed for his comfort—to go to him; to rest her head against his broad shoulder. She yearned for him to put his arms around her and draw her close against his chest. She wanted to pour out her hurts and disappointments and have him soothe them all away.

It scared her a little how quickly she’d come to rely on him. She wanted to turn to him in her hour of need, even though she’d barely known him a couple of days. It felt something like forever. They had an unfathomable connection—something magical—like they’d met in another time.

He felt it, too. She knew he did. She hoped there could be something between them when this whole sorry mess was over.

Less than ten minutes later, she pulled into the empty car park near The Gap. The nearby streetlights threw dark shadows across the asphalt, but they didn’t discourage her. Cutting the engine, she opened the door and breathed in the salty air.

Years ago, the place had been notorious for the number of suicides that had occurred off the ledge of the surrounding cliffs, but for Zara, their sheer beauty and the sound of the waves crashing on the rocks far below had always soothed her. She closed the car door and picked her way carefully through the darkness, trying to use the sounds and her fond, familiar memories of the place to help her recover from the night’s ordeal.

Of course, she could no longer get close to the edge. That had been barricaded off long ago in an effort to deter people from jumping, but she slipped off her sandals and made her way as close as she could and sat down amongst the tufts of grass and rock.

The moon was only half-full, but it hung golden and glorious over the ocean. Sparkles of moonlight caught the black of the waves and sent them dancing. A slight breeze caressed her skin and goose bumps broke out on her bare arms. She shivered a little and rubbed at them.

She thought once again of Lane and the sleepless nights ahead of him. He’d be busy forming a team of officers to locate and face off against the kidnapper. They’d been given a slight reprieve, but she was certain there would still be plenty to be done before the deadline arrived. She sent up a silent prayer that Olivia would be returned to her family unharmed.

Well, as unharmed as one could hope after enduring such a terrifying ordeal. Her heart went out to the little girl and she sent up another prayer of thanks that her sister had been spared the same agony.

She wondered about Lane’s family. She knew so little about him and yet it felt like she knew everything. Everything that was important, anyway. He was kind and caring and compassionate. The way he was with her sister melted her heart. He was also smart and loyal and had the respect of his colleagues. To top it off, he was gorgeous. His eyes were the color of wheatgrass half-ripe in a wide, vast field. Green and brown-flecked, they really were the window to his soul.

She smiled wistfully at her poetic romanticism and wished life wasn’t so darn complicated. She’d been cruising along with her life mapped out before her and until she met Lane, she couldn’t honestly have said she was discontent. She had a family she loved and who loved her in return—well, maybe not Allison, but Zara had almost resigned herself to the fact her stepmother would never embrace her. She’d given up trying to please her and had buried herself in her work. It never failed to lift her spirits.