In Ruins (33 page)

Zayne's large hands grip my hips in an effort to still me, and my pleading turns into rage as I begin to sling threats of my own. “Don't touch me! Don't you
fucking
touch me, you bastard!”

I'm grabbed and shoved so hard against the mattress that it knocks the air from my lungs, briefly shocking me still. But it only galvanizes me, and my knee makes contact with Zayne's rib.

He reacts with a wince and an
oomph
, but it's only a momentary reprieve, and it isn't like I can use it to get away, not with my arms restrained like they are.

I cry out as I take a backhand to the face, so hard my entire head jerks sideways, and stars dance behind my vision.

“Stop this, Carleigh! You're not going anywhere—you know that. Stop being stupid.”

“Let her go, you motherfucker!” Tucker roars. “Leave her alone! Leave her
the fuck
alone!”

“I didn't want to have to do this,” Zayne says to both me and the phone with a sincerity that nauseates me. “But at the same time, I think a part of me did hope I'd be given a reason to punish you,” he admits. “You are exceptionally attractive. Like I said, I get the appeal.”

He looks around the room with a strange nostalgia. “And how fitting that it should happen where it all began.”

What does that even mean?
He's crazier than I thought, and it's a frightening realization.

He reaches for the buttons of my top. I try kicking him again, but he pulls a knife from his pocket and switches it open in one quick motion, holding it to my throat. I gasp, freezing in place.

“Now that that's settled,” he murmurs.

I want to growl more threats, sling more curses, but they lodge painfully in my throat. Instead I focus every effort on keeping the river trying to rush from my eyes securely dammed. My failure at this is my greatest shame. I hate crying, and Tucker is the only person I've ever given my tears to. He deserved them. He was worthy of them. Unlike this fucking monster.

I don't so much as breathe as Zayne uses the knife to fling the buttons from my shirt, drawing it open.

“If you kick me again, I will repay you in kind with this.” He holds up the knife. “Do you understand?”

I don't nod. I don't give him the satisfaction. But he accepts my compliance anyway. He lifts my skirt, bunching it around my waist, leaving my white lace panties exposed.

I hear my mother weeping softly now behind the record of Tucker's fury, and even her reaction sounds contrived. I focus on Tucker's words, clinging to his promise that my kidnapper will pay for this with his life.

Zayne starts removing his own clothing, but he stops to retrieve the phone from the table. Careful not to show his identity, he aims it down at my distraught face as he climbs purposefully atop my body, straddling me. And then without warning, he ends both the call and the video.

But even as I lose the comfort of Tucker's rage, I also can't help but be thankful that he will be spared the visual of what is about to happen, even if I don't know why. I can only assume Zayne wants privacy for his own lustful pursuits, and I close my eyes for whatever he's about to do, my mind traveling far away from my present, chasing Tucker's voice and a memory of a better time, when there wasn't a monster using me as a means to a nefarious end, and when Tucker was still my future.

Present Day

My chest explodes in agony, and for the first time since my father died, tears leak from my eyes.

Some bastard is going to rape Carl, and there isn't shit I can do to stop him.

Billy stares at me with wide, horror-filled eyes, and I can't meet them. I can't offer him any comfort. Instead I turn to Carl's mother, whose tears may be real, but they are far too few, far too late, and all I want to do is shout at her again that this is all her goddamn fault.

But Carl's kidnapper was right. I am just as much to blame. I knew what kind of person Nicole was, and I still allowed her to talk to her husband and decide on a course of action without me. Yes, she was adamant that it wasn't my place to explain things to Carl's dad, but I could have insisted. I
should
have insisted. But I never guessed she planned to negotiate Carl's fucking price tag as if she was some prize racehorse.

I'm afraid you might have been right, I may have overestimated Tucker Green's feelings for you, after all.

It was like a blade to the chest, effectively slicing my heart right open. She doubted me. She doubted me because I gave her good reason to doubt me, and now she's suffering. Being touched by another man for the first time. Being
violated
.

Fuck! I can't just stand around waiting. I have to
do
something.

I decide to call Cap. I didn't call him earlier because I was afraid he'd insist on calling the police, but I can't handle this on my own anymore.

He answers on the second ring, and I start rambling like a madman. I tell him what happened from the moment I got the photo of Carl, tied to a bed, utterly terrified.

I tell him everything her kidnapper said to me, about selling her into the motherfucking sex trade if we don't meet his deadline, and killing her if we report it. I explain Nicole's disgusting attempt at a negotiation, and my voice cracks as I try to find words to describe his retaliation.

“He's
hurting
her, man. Right fucking
now
. And I can't do jack shit to stop it!” I choke on a sob.

I cry like a little bitch as Cap tries to help me think things through, but no matter what angle we approach it from, it just doesn't make any goddamn sense.

Cap has his car with him in the city, and making an excuse to Rory, he promises to meet me here as fast as possible. I know how much he hates lying to his girl, but Carl's one of her best friends, and she doesn't need to hear this shit. It's not like there's anything she can do to help right now.

I end the call, and try to think of what to do next. But there's nothing. Fucking
nothing
I can do to help my girl. My girl, who's currently under fucking
attack
—being tortured, violated and defiled. My legs give out, and I slide to the floor, dropping my head in my hands.

I think about what Cap said—about how I must know the guy. Enough that he knows what Carl means to me. It's a thought I've had before. Because he didn't just randomly decide to contact me over going directly to Carl's family—
no
, that was a calculated maneuver. But who the hell do I know who would do something like this?

My first thought was Ben, but he doesn't know anything about Carl's family. Still, I called him last night, and the background noise supported his claim that he was out in a crowded bar with four of our teammates. Two of those teammates also confirmed it when I called them to follow up.

No one has heard from Carl since we left her at that office building, including Zayne, who this morning responded to my second e-mail asking if he'd seen her, saying he hadn't—that he was busy grading final papers, and that he'd let me know if he hears from her.

I think again about calling the police. He could be lying about having mechanisms in place to alert him if we do. But I can't risk it—not with Carl's life at stake.

I grilled Nicole about potential suspects, but it's hard to narrow down a list of enemies for someone like William Stanley, a man who has more than he will probably ever know. She also pointed out that I am as good a suspect as any, and that if I wasn't standing right next to her, I would have been her best guess. We made no progress whatsoever, and no matter how I rack my brain even now, I can't think of anyone I might know who would do this.

Kidnap. Threaten murder.

Rape.

My heart clenches painfully in my chest. How will Carl ever get over this? My beautiful, strong girl, reduced to a helpless victim, at the mercy of some sick fuck. It will forever scar her, and that's if she survives.

A shrill ringing echoes from Carl's bedroom, and I jump up and rush inside to find Nicole answering her cell. She looks at me warily, and I know it's him. I know it's the motherfucking asshole who ruined my father, and who just risked his daughter's life to save some fucking money. I march over to her and snatch the phone from her hands. She doesn't even try to stop me. I think I'm starting to scare her a little. Well,
good
.

“…Nik? Is she okay? Did you speak to her?”

“You motherfucker,” I growl.

“Tucker?”

Apparently his wife has ensured I need no introduction. “How could you?”

“Did you talk to Carleigh? Is she okay?” Will Stanley sounds nothing like I imagined—the pompous millionaire businessman who cares about nothing but his money. He sounds desperate, and small, and frightened, and it takes me aback.

“No,” I grate, barely able to unclench my teeth enough to form words. “She's not fucking
okay
!”

“What—”

“How could you choose your money over your own fucking child?” I try to focus on my anger, but my voice cracks, and it's all I can do not to fucking cry like a damned child again.

“What? What are you talking about?”

“You had your wife offer five million dollars for her? Your daughter's life is something you
bargain
with?”

“
What
? No. That wasn't the plan. She was supposed to wire twenty million.”

Huh?

I glare at Nicole, who is trembling with anxiety and shame, and I know. She risked Carl all on her own.

“Well, your wife went rogue, and told your daughter's kidnapper she would only pay five million.”

“Shit.”

“The bastard rejected the offer.”

“Oh, God.
Carleigh
.” His voice trembles with horror.

“He was concerned we weren't taking him seriously. He decided to force himself on Carl to make a point.”

Silence. Not even a breath.

“Did you hear me?”

A broken sob echoes through the phone, echoing my own sentiment.

“You tell Nicole I'm going to kill her! That's it! I'm fucking
done
.”

“Give her the wire instructions, and tell her to wire the full amount,” I demand.

“She already has access to everything! All of the accounts. She has for years.”

I turn to face Nicole. If a glare could be used as a weapon, she would be riddled with wounds right now. “She's had access to the money this whole time…”
Motherfucker
. She's had the power to end this all along. Wire the ransom and be done with it. But she acted like she couldn't do anything without her husband—that he was the only one with full access.

“Damn it, Tucker, you have to get my little girl back!”

“That's what I'm trying to do!” I roar. But I'm confused. Because the newspaper articles made it sound like he refused to return the money against the will of everyone around him. That he opted to do significantly more time in favor of holding on to as much money as possible. But if Carl's dad cares so much about his
little girl
, why wouldn't he have taken the plea deal with the shorter sentence so he could be with her?

“Why didn't you just give it back? The money, I mean. Wouldn't you already be out of there? Don't you want to be with your family?”

“Of course I do…more than anything.” He sounds so sincere.

“She needed you,” I tell him. “Carl. Billy, too. She
needs
you. Not just now that there's some psycho threatening her life. She needed a father.”'

“She had Nicole. She had means—”

“Nicole Stanger is no fucking parent.”

A pause, then, “I know,” he says defeatedly. “I hoped for more from her. She needs certain things to be happy. She wasn't always like that, or at least I didn't always know it. But when I told her I was giving it back to reduce my sentence, she couldn't handle it. She was going to take the kids and move across the country to be near her sister. I wouldn't have been allowed to leave New York State. She didn't give me a choice. She promised to bring them up to visit as often as I asked, but if I returned the funds…” He sighs. “I would have lost them anyway, but they would have lost everything else, too. Their home, everything.”

“You were going to give back the money?”

“Initially, yes. But Nik, she was adamant that the right thing for my family was to provide for them by doing the extra time. She promised to do right by the kids—that she would be enough parent for both of us. And I wanted to believe her. You know, Tucker, you're young. When you're older you'll understand. When you love a woman, there's nothing you wouldn't do to make her happy. Even when that woman threatens to take your children and leave.”

Fuck that. I couldn't love a woman like that. The woman I would love would be one who would choose her family over any amount of money.

And then I remember, I already love that woman. And her life is in danger.

“You shouldn't have trusted her. And I won't make that mistake again. E-mail me the instructions directly, and when he calls back I'll tell him we have the full amount.”

“You love her, don't you?”

I swallow audibly.

“Nicole told me a little about your relationship, and that you ended it because of what I did to your family. I can't tell you—”

“I really don't want to fucking hear it, Mr. Stanley,” I grit out.

“Still, you need to know that Carleigh—she was as much a victim in all this as anyone. She is everything that is good in this world, despite who her parents are.”

“I know that,” I say quietly.

“I know I have no right to say it, but I'm counting on you, Tucker. I can't do anything from in here. You have to help her.”

“I will,” I swear. Not for him, but for the girl I love. I tell him my e-mail address and hand the phone to Nicole.

His shouting echoes through the phone, and Nicole winces. I head into Carl's bathroom and splash some cool water on my face and look around for a towel. I find one in the top drawer. Under it is her hairbrush, and I stare at the fine, long golden strands stuck in its bristles. It smells like her shampoo, and the scent chokes me with regret.

A glimmer from the drawer catches my eye, and I reach down and slip my fingers under the chain that'd been hiding under Carl's brush. It dangles from my hand, taunting me with my own foolishness. The white gold crown charm I bought her for graduation, the one that should never be anywhere but around her delicate neck, shoved carelessly into a bathroom drawer.

I trace the shape of the crown with my forefinger. It caught my eye in the jeweler's window, and I dipped deeply into my savings to afford it, but I wanted her to have something special to remind her who she is to me. My Princess.

If you ever want to see your precious Princess again…

How did we get here?

Again, my eyes glaze over with tears.

And then my heart fucking stops.

If you ever want to see your precious
Princess
again
?

He knew. He knew what I called her.

And like my brain has suddenly unlocked a memory it didn't think pertinent before, the truth hits me like an eighteen-wheeler.

I called her that yesterday. In front of Zayne. When he asked her to stay back to meet with the marketing execs, and she was concerned about our dinner.

Go, Princess, I'll meet you after.

I shove the necklace into my pocket and race out of the bathroom. Nicole is sitting in Carl's armchair, bawling dramatically, and I can't muster even the slightest ounce of pity for her. Billy sits in the corner, on the floor, refusing to so much as look at his mother. I can't really blame him.

“Nicole.” I try to get her attention.

She doesn't even look up.

“Nicole!”

She peeks up at me, fearful of what I might do to her.

“Do you know someone named Zayne Stevens?”

Her brows attempt a thoughtful frown. “Stevens?”

My brows raise with impatience.

“Zayne Stevens. Yes. That's Art's son. Will's old business partner.”

Bingo
.

“He has Carl.”

She blinks at me. “Art's son? Are you sure?”

“Tell me, does it make sense?” I ask.

She swallows anxiously. “Art didn't know what Will had been doing. He lost everything when Will went away. But they were already barely speaking long before then. Last I heard he suffered from pretty bad depression.”

“And his son?”

Nicole shrugs. “He was ten or so the last time I saw him. But Art's wife left when he lost his money. I think Zayne stayed with Art.”

Yeah, that's fucking motive if I ever heard it. “He was our professor for a marketing class.”

Billy jumps up. “Zayne? As in the guy who drove her here on Halloween?”

I nod.

“He was here?” Nicole screeches.

“Yeah, Nicole. He was here. And if you were any kind of parent you would have been here, too. You would have recognized him, and he never would have had the opportunity to take Carl.”

But as much as I want to continue to lay into her, I don't have time.