Chapter 37
LENNOX
I wake up slowly, consciousness returning in fragments.
Cold. I’m cold. Lying on something hard, concrete, maybe. My head throbs where it hit something during the struggle, and my mouth tastes like chemicals.
I try to move and realize my hands are bound behind me. Zip ties, tight enough to bite into my wrists. My ankles are bound too.
Panic spikes, sharp and immediate. I force myself to breathe through it. A panic attack won’t help. I need to think, figure out where I am, and how to survive.
I open my eyes carefully.
I’m in a basement. Unfinished concrete walls, a single bulb hanging from the ceiling, and no windows. Empty except for a metal chair in the corner and a door at the top of a flight of stairs.
How long have I been out? Minutes? Hours? I have no way to tell if it is day or night.
“She’s awake.” A voice comes from the stairs. One of the men from the SUV appears, slowly descending. “Boss’ll want to know.”
He pulls out a phone. “Yeah, she’s up. You want me to… Yeah, okay. I’ll wait.”
He hangs up and leans against the wall, watching me with detached interest.
“Where am I?” My voice comes out rough, throat raw from screaming or the chemicals or both.
“Don’t worry about that, your husband knows we’ve got you, just not where. We sent him a nice little video of us loading you into the SUV. He’ll be losing his ever-loving shit right about now.”
Sebastian knows. He’ll come for me. Or at least, he’ll try.
“What do you want?”
“Not my call, boss decides that.” He checks his phone.
“He should be here soon.” Footsteps on the stairs.
Heavy, measured. Thomas Marshall appears wearing a black Stetson tipped stupidly on his head like he’s a bad guy in an old western movie, and spurs on his boots that jingle every time he takes a step.
All we’re missing is a tumbleweed rolling through and an ominous whistle.
It’s ridiculous, and I bite the corner of my mouth to keep from screaming.
But his focused expression reminds me uncomfortably of my own father when he’s dealing with “problems.”
“Mrs. Drake.” He moves across the room, his thumbs hooked into his pockets, taking his time.
“Sorry about the accommodations. Not exactly the luxury you’re used to at your husband’s place.
” He stops in front of me, and Thomas Marshall, the man who confronted Sebastian in town all those weeks ago, is now looming over me.
“What do you want?”
“Straight to business. I like that.” He pulls the metal chair over and takes a seat.
“What I want is simple: I want Sebastian Drake to understand that he doesn’t control everything.”
“So this is about your pride?”
“This is about respect,” he yells, his voice ringing off the bare concrete walls.
“Power. The things that actually matter out here.” Thomas leans forward.
“See, I can brush off the fact that you tried to kill one of my men, I’m not concerned with you.
Your husband, on the other hand, thought he could embarrass me.
Steal my land, make me look like an old fool who can’t get business deals done.
But see, Mrs. Drake, I’ve got something he can’t buy. Can’t control, or replace.”
“Me,” I whisper.
“You.” His smile is cold. “And now we’re going to find out exactly what you’re worth to him. Whether he’s willing to give me what I want to get you back. Or whether you’re just another possession he’ll write off as a loss.”
“He’ll come for me.”
“Will he?” Thomas tilts his head. “Because from what I understand, you’re not exactly his wife by choice. More like an acquisition, no better than a land deal. Is that right?”
My blood goes cold. “I don’t know what you’re talking about.”
“Don’t you? Because I’ve got records. Photos.
Testimony from people who were there. Your husband paid two million dollars for you.
Literally bought you like a prize heifer.
” Thomas’s expression is satisfied. “That’s quite the scandal if it gets out.
Human trafficking, illegal contracts, all sorts of interesting legal problems.”
“You have no proof.”
“I have enough.” He stands. “But here’s the thing. I don’t necessarily want to destroy you both. I just want what’s owed to me.”
“Which is?”
“My land. Specifically, the south pastures that border our properties. About five thousand acres that your husband stole out from under me.” Thomas moves toward the stairs.
“So here’s the deal. Sebastian signs over that land, gives me what should have been mine all along, and you go home safe and sound.
Nobody has to know about the auction, or the attempted murder. Everybody wins.”
“And if he doesn’t?”
“Then I release everything I know. The media loves a good scandal. Rich hotelier and rancher buying a wife at an underground auction? That’ll play for weeks.
His reputation destroyed, his family humiliated, legal investigations that’ll tie you both up for years.
” Thomas pauses on the stairs. “Oh, and you’ll stay here.
Indefinitely. Until he changes his mind. ”
“That’s kidnapping.”
“That’s negotiation. You’re not hurt. You’re fed. You’re just detained. Until your husband makes the right choice.” He continues up the stairs. “Think about it, Mrs. Drake. Five thousand acres versus your freedom and your secrets. Seems like an easy call to me.”
The door at the top of the stairs closes. I hear a lock turn. Then silence.
I’m alone in a basement God knows where, bound and helpless, while Sebastian decides whether I’m worth five thousand acres of prime ranch land.
The question Thomas asked echoes in my mind.
What are you worth to him?
I don’t know. And that uncertainty is more terrifying than anything else.
I work at the zip ties on my wrists, trying to find any give. Nothing. They are tight, professional. These men know what they’re doing.
Time passes. I can’t tell how much. The single bulb stays on, no change to mark whether it’s day or night. No sounds from outside. Just me and silence and growing fear.
Eventually, the door opens again. Different man this time, younger, carrying a bottle of water and a sandwich on a paper plate.
“Boss says to feed you. Keep you healthy until Drake calls.” He cuts the zip tie on my wrists, steps back quickly. “Don’t try anything stupid. There’s five of us up there and you’re sixty miles from help.”
He just fucked up and told me something I might be able to use. I’m sixty miles from where they took me. I might not know in what direction, but that wouldn’t take long to figure out. I rub feeling back into my hands, take the water and sandwich. Plain turkey, white bread. Prison food.
“How long are you planning to keep me here?”
“Long as it takes.” He heads back upstairs. “Boss gave Drake forty-eight hours to decide. After that…” He shrugs. “Not my problem.”
The door closes again. I eat the sandwich slowly, drink half the water and try to think. There has to be a way out. Some weakness in their security. Some opportunity to escape.
But even if I get out of this basement, I’m sixty miles from anywhere familiar. On Marshall land, surrounded by people who want to keep me here.
The odds aren’t good, but they are better than they were.