Chapter 22 Caleb
CALEB
“Ward,” I say, answering on the fifth ring.
At first, there’s silence. Then breathing, deep and ragged—disturbing.
“Took you long enough,” a man’s voice on the other side says. “I was beginning to think you wouldn’t answer.”
I wait a second, gathering myself and fueling the flames of his impatience.
“How’d you get this number?” I ask casually, quietly extricating myself from Basia’s bedroom.
She’s out like a light from all the alcohol she drank, but who knows when her bladder will wake her.
Besides, my tablet is in the living room, and I need it to video Ethan.
“That’s not important,” Basia’s stalker replies with a snarl. “What’s important is that I have her, and if you don’t want her to die, you’ll do as I say.”
Ethan answers my call immediately, clearly still awake. I pretend not to see the fact that his dick and balls are swinging in front of the camera. I use my hand to signal him to listen and put the call on my phone on speaker.
“How exactly do you have her, hmm? She’s in my bed, sleeping peacefully.”
Maybe if I piss him off, he’ll make a mistake. In any case, saying it gives me a kick—he terrorized Basia, it’s the least of what I plan on doing to him.
The stalker growls, swearing under his breath. “The governor has more than one spoiled woman in his life, Ward,” he sneers. “Though I have to say… his wife isn’t as composed as she looks in magazines.”
I blink, my eyes locked with Ethan’s through the video call on the tablet.
“Mrs. Langford?” I ask for confirmation.
The stalker clicks his tongue dismissively. “Maybe I overestimated your intelligence.”
I nod at Ethan, signaling for him to try to get in touch with the governor. We shouldn’t take this lunatic at his word. Ethan’s on the phone before I speak again.
“You hurt her,” I say, flat and lethal, “and you won’t live long enough to regret it.”
“Oh, I won’t live long anyway,” the man replies. “That’s the point.”
Ethan shakes his head at me, his eyes wide.
Shit.
I mouth for him to trace the call, then close my eyes and think.
“What do you want?” I ask tersely. Basia will be devastated if something happens to her mother. She may have tried to break some of the shackles that come with high society, but I know she talks to her mom at least once a week.
“You,” he says immediately. No hesitation. No bargaining. “You come alone. No toys. No tricks. You bring yourself, and I give her back.”
Ethan’s head snaps up. His eyes meet mine.
I keep my voice steady. “Proof of life.”
A pause. Then my phone vibrates in my hand. I switch to text messages and open a photo sent from the same, unknown number.
Kasia sits in a chair, wrists bound with zip ties, makeup smudged, eyes furious rather than afraid. That checks out—Basia’s mother has always seemed like steel wrapped in silk. A piece of duct tape covers her mouth.
How the fuck did he get to her? With all the security afforded to a man in her husband’s position… It seems unbelievable. I forward the picture to Ethan to check authenticity.
“You have one hour,” the stalker says. “Docklands. Pier Nine. If you’re late, I start cutting. Slowly.”
The line goes dead.
We’re silent for a moment, then Ethan speaks up. “This has to be a trap, man. He wants you out of the way so he can get to Basia.
I pinch the bridge of my nose. “Yeah, no shit. What did the governor’s staff say?”
“No answer. And I called the guardhouse,” he replies gravely.
“And the picture? Is it real or a deepfake?”
Ethan shakes his head. “If it’s a deepfake, it’s better than any I’ve seen. But I can’t be sure.”
I look at my watch. “And with time ticking away and no answer from the governor, we don’t have time to verify.”
“Exactly. Who’s going with you?”
I’m rummaging through my bags, pulling out extra ammo clips.
“Wake up Cross,” I say. “He can cover me from above. I’ll get Wheeler to come upstairs and call Coleman back.” I strap my harness back on, then check my guns. “Try to reach the governor. And Ethan? Have Damien on standby in case things go sideways.”
“Shit,” Ethan hisses, grabbing his phone again. “This is a colossally bad idea. I’m not sure we can get everyone in place in time.”
“Probably what he’s counting on,” I murmur as I pull my boots on.
“Then why are you going?” Ethan demands, his voice almost pleading.
“Because it’s her mom, buddy,” I reply softly. “My girl’s mother. If he really does have her, we need to get her back. Either way, he needs to be stopped.”
Ethan curses under his breath. “This is fucking Fallujah all over again.”
“I’ll try not to get charged by a suicide bomber this time,” I reply with a scoff. “I’ll talk to you over comms, let me get the Secret Service up to speed.”
“Fine,” he grumbles, giving in. “I’ll wake up Killian.”
I check on Basia one more time, unable to resist caressing her cheek with the back of my hand. Her mouth is open, her cheeks red from wine. She’s never been more beautiful.
“I love you, Basia,” I whisper, lingering for a moment longer.
Time to go.
I call Wheeler up and explain the situation. She tries to reach her colleagues at the governor’s house, but has the same luck Ethan did.
“Just keep Basia safe,” I say, already at the door. “Coleman’s on his way back. He’ll be in the lobby.”
“Be careful,” she calls after me, the click of the closing door preventing me from replying.
I’ll be fine. He’s just one man, and I’ll have Cross with his sniper rifle watching my back.
In my SUV, I put on my earpiece and check in with Ethan. “Everyone up to speed?”
“Yup,” Ethan’s voice comes through, loud and clear. “Killian’s on his way, said he’ll be there in forty. Said he thinks you’re—”
“A fucking idiot,” Killian cuts in, joining us on the comms. “But I’d do worse for Emily.”
“You have done worse for Emily,” Ethan mutters. “I was there. Do you know how much it cost to get your ass print off the hood of my Audi?”
Cross snorts. “Yeah, man. You only told me fifteen hundred fucking times.”
I ignore their banter, though it takes off the edge of my anxiety as my mind spins in a wheel, my skin prickling with nerves.
I’m not alone.
And one way or another—this ends tonight.