Chapter 16 #3
Mr. Federline gave her a long stare. “I’m certain you’ll find a way to get my message to Jack.”
“You’re not the only one with resources.” Ginger steeled herself with resolve. “And without proof that you’re holding Ivy unharmed, you’re hardly in a position to make demands either.”
Mr. Federline took a slow step toward her. “You’re clearly an intelligent woman, Dr. Benson. How would I know about Ivy being missing?” His eyes crinkled at the corners. “Or Alex? A mechanical boy. Good with tools—isn’t he?”
Ginger’s knees almost gave out, and Federline must have seen the alarm in her face.
His look skewered her. “Yes, I know about him. He’s with Ivy too. But the boy isn’t quite as well behaved as his little friend. Perhaps I should punish him accordingly.”
Federline let his words settle into the hush of the room, his eyes glittering with amusement that made Ginger’s skin crawl. Slowly, he adjusted the cuff of his immaculate suit as though discussing the brutal fates of children was nothing more than idle conversation.
He stepped closer to Ginger, leaning in just enough that she could feel the menace of his proximity. “Seven days, Dr. Benson,” he said, his voice velvet-smooth and merciless. “Tell Jack he has seven days to contact me, or you’ll never see either child alive again.”
Victoria’s hand clamped around Ginger’s arm, her nails biting through the thin fabric of Ginger’s sleeve. But Ginger held Federline’s gaze, forcing her expression into something calm even as her pulse pounded in her throat.
Thank goodness Alastair is nearby. She didn’t doubt he would come to their aid if necessary.
“Take me instead,” Victoria cried, her desperation at last cracking. “Return Ivy and Alex and hold me ransom if you must.”
His eyes flicked toward her, eyebrows furrowing, as though he’d forgotten she was even there. Or didn’t care. “You’re of no use to me. I need someone Jack cares about much more.”
Victoria blanched.
Federline dipped his head in a mock-bow toward them—an obscene parody of gentlemanly civility—then turned and strolled from the office as though he had every right to let himself out.
Ginger scrambled to follow him, barely holding on to her wits, but he didn’t look back, his footsteps echoing down the corridor as he strode toward the door.
The front door shut with a quiet click, and Ginger’s heart stuttered. Swallowing hard, she rushed up behind the door and locked it. As though that could protect us from this man.
She set her forehead against the smooth, cool wood of the door, trying to slow her pulse.
He has Alexander.
Alex.
My God, he has Alex. He’s alive.
That Alex wasn’t dead in a ditch somewhere was the only consolation she could find in all this. She finally knew where her son was.
Tucking a strand of hair behind her ear with a shaky hand, she crossed back toward the office, toward the only person who knew and understood what she was going through. Victoria sagged against a covered armchair, blinking, her face drawn.
With a few quick strides, Ginger moved toward the servants’ door and tugged it open. Alastair stood there, half in shadow, his face set in grim lines that made him look older and more dangerous than she’d ever seen him.
He stepped into the light and brushed a film of dust from his sleeves. “Well,” he said, his tone deceptively mild, “he’s a charming bastard, isn’t he?”
Victoria let out a brittle, startled laugh—the sound of someone on the edge of breaking. She pressed a trembling hand to her mouth.
Ginger went over to her and squeezed her shoulder, then sank against the arm of the chair, the fight gone from her legs. “Seven days.” Her voice was barely above a whisper. “And we don’t even know where Jack is. Or Noah. Or—”
“Ginger.” Alastair’s voice cut through her rising panic. He frowned, taking a cautious approach toward her. “Listen to me. We are not helpless children. We’ve all survived worse threats than him.”
“Threats to ourselves, Alastair—not to our children,” Victoria said sharply. “And I don’t understand. How does he know so much? How could he possibly know—”
“Information is his currency,” Alastair said.
“And he’s exceptionally good at using it for blackmail, I understand.
Which is why he’s picked the children as his targets.
We can’t afford to seem any weaker to him than we are though.
All he’s asking is for you to deliver a message to Jack—which means Jack must have eluded him at last. For all his poise, I heard a current of anger in his tone.
If Federline is angry, it must be because he feels threatened.
And that’s not a bad thing to exploit. We just may have to find a way to beat him at his own game. ”
Though it hurt to breathe, Ginger nodded and met Victoria’s gaze, an old, unyielding fire lighting through her. “Alastair is right, Victoria. And we’ve both lived through monsters before. We won’t allow this one to break us.”
Victoria still didn’t look convinced, but Alastair nodded, approving.
“Good. Then we must do what we must.” His tone was firm and steady.
“Federline thinks he’s got you cornered.
He doesn’t. While he’s watching you, I can make myself useful and get word to Noah and Jack, through channels Federline won’t see coming. ”
Victoria straightened. “We’ll need money. People we can trust.”
“Leave that to me,” Alastair said. “Fortunately, I have every reason to be here thanks to the family connection. I have no doubt Federline will be looking into me, but I can find a way to use that to our advantage. It’s time he learns that the prey can bite.”
He moved to a drinks cabinet and tugged the cover to the side, then rummaged until he found a bottle of good whisky. After pouring a stiff measure into two glasses, he handed one to Ginger and to Victoria.
Ginger accepted it, staring at the amber swirl as she lifted it to her lips. The burn of the alcohol stung her nostrils, then her mouth, as she took a slow sip, which steadied her.
Victoria exhaled shakily, but the drink seemed to return some of the color to her cheeks. “And if he’s right about Alex? What if they have him too, Ginger?”
Ginger closed her eyes, her throat clenching.
Somehow I hoped he couldn’t be caught.
Her darling son. Goodness—he was out there right now, held captive by a horrible beast of a man, and he’d been so heartbroken and betrayed by his parents before this. What must he think now?
There had once been a time in her life when Alexander had been the reason her heart kept beating. When the life stirring within her had kept her from collapsing and, after he’d been born, his little cherub face had made her feel again.
And she’d hidden everything she’d gone through for him from him.
Maybe it was time he knew. Maybe then he would never doubt the depth of her and Noah’s love for him.
The warm and reassuring grip of Alastair’s hand on her shoulder brought her back to the present.
“If Federline has Alex, I’m certain Alex is being a damn nuisance to him.
And that’s exactly what we’ll count on. The boy’s a Benson—he’ll find a way to survive.
So will Ivy. They just need us to find Jack—and fast.”
A thin, incredulous laugh slipped from Ginger’s throat. “God help me, Alastair, but I want to believe you.”
He squeezed her shoulder once more. “Good. Now dry those eyes. We have a snake to corner and a family to get back.”
Victoria nodded, reaching for Ginger’s hand. She held it tight, her fingers clasping Ginger’s.
If Victoria can summon the will to fight through this, so can I. We can do this together.
For the first time since London, Ginger felt the tiniest spark of hope.
Sharp, stubborn, and alive.