Breathless (Meadowlarks) (17 page)

I was
carried to a nearby bench and Dane sat me down on his lap. My arms instinctively pulled themselves around his thick neck as I let my face fall into his shoulder.

I bawl
ed.

Not just any sorrowful cry—a really deep, penetrating and earth-shattering sob. The lump in my throat
was so big I was afraid I would asphyxiate on it.

I let go, right t
here on that bench in the park.

In Buffalo, Wyoming.

On the lap of the man I hated, so very much.

“Where
is
he, Dane?” I sobbed.

“Shhh...” H
e soothed my hair with his hand. “Just breathe.”

That
was probably the first time that Dane had his arms around me, and we were both still fully clothed. He hadn’t tried to grope or touch me in any way.

I sniffle
d my nose into his suit. The tiniest piece of me wanting to smirk as I thought about how expensive his suit was and that I had just wiped my nose on it.

“Why was he never good enough for you?” I suddenly
grew the nerve to ask the question that I had always wanted to hear the answer to.

Dane clear
ed his throat.

“Well?”

“Well...” he started. “I would have been a shitty father. I
am
a shitty father.”

“Do you have any other kids?”

“No.”

“Well, then how do you know you would have sucked as a parent?”

“I don't know.” He shrugged. “I was a coward.”

Bulls
-
eye!

“How co
uld you have been with Mrs. Lerner?” I enquired.

“You don't really want to do this right here, do you?”

I nodded, wiping a tear from my cheek. “I deserve to know.”

He exhale
d, and narrowed an eye to me. “Well,” he began. “I grew up with nothing but good looks.
Obviously
. My parents were poor, so I was poor. I put together that landscaping business with my buddies, and wouldn't you know—the richy-rich people started to hire us. We made a killing, it was like being on crack. I'd never had someone hand me hundreds of dollars for mowing their grass before.”

I
sat up straight, and listened intently.

“When Moneybags Harrison hired me,” he smirk
ed and I glared at him for referring to my dad in that way. “I thought I hit the lottery. Then I saw you. And holy shit, if I didn't think I was going to die right there on the grass.”

“
What?
”

“The things that went through my mind when you came home from school that very first day. You didn't even look at me when you walked your tight little ass up to the house. You swung your hips, and your hair, and I thought I was going to explode.”

A tiny flutter shot through my belly, and I tried to push it away quickly.

He ke
pt talking. “I could tell you were pure. I wanted to take it away. I wanted to do so many bad things to you, and eventually...you let me.”

My nostrils flared. I was embarrassed.

“But, I had to find another job after we finished at your parents' house. Louisa Lerner hired me, and offered me something no one ever had. A better life.”

“I don't want the details.”

For once.

“She found ou
t about you. Found out about...the pregnancy. I had to choose.”

“
You asshole...” I hissed, through gritted teeth.

He shrug
ged. “Young. Dumb. Full of come.”

“
Dane!” I held up my hand, grossed out.

For the first time in over a decade, I smile
d at Dane. And he smiled back, something I had rarely seen. Granted, I had definitely witnessed that devious smirk he always had plastered on his way too perfect face. But a true
happy
smile? It was a rare occasion.

His cellphone
rang through his suit jacket pocket, bringing us both back to reality.

Isaac
.

He lifted
me off his lap, and stood. “I need to take this.”

I nod
ded, and scrolled through my own cellphone. Looking at pictures of Isaac and Scarlett. Scarlett and me. Scarlett and Alex...Me and Alex. I frowned.

Shit
.

Alex.

Dane shoved his phone in to his pocket and held out his hand to me. “Let's go. I need to go somewhere.”

“Where?”

“Don't worry about it.”

Oh, h
ello, Asshole Sullivan. Not nice to have you back.

Dane dial
ed a number on his phone, and within two minutes the Lincoln Town Car pulled up to the curb and he opened the door for me. “Go back to the hotel. I'll be there in twenty minutes.”

“Is it Isaac?”

“No. I said go back. I will be right there.”

When I step
ped off the elevator and walked toward my room, I pulled the card from my pocket and swiped. The moment the door clicked, my phone rang.

A
blocked number called me and I answered right away.

“Hello?” I ask
ed, breathy and wondering.

“Riley,”
a choppy electronic voice said. “I have Isaac. Give me four hundred and fifty thousand dollars if you ever want to see him alive again.”

My heart detache
d from my body and fell down to the floor, along with my cellphone, and the eventually rest of my body. I looked up, groggily and reached for my phone. Praying the line isn't dead.

“Hello?” I ask
ed, again.

“Thought I lost you. Did you hear me correctly?”

“I did. I don't have that much money. Please, just give me back my son.”

“Oh,” the voice
said, eerily laughing. “Yes, you do.”

“I want to talk to Isa
ac! I need to know he's okay!”

The phone
went silent. The caller ends his game. For now.

I
sat up, holding the phone in my hand, terrified to let it go. A moment later it buzzed and a picture message displayed on the screen. The blocked number sent me a photo of Isaac. Holding another cellphone in his hand, displaying the date and time of the photo. The picture was literally taken seconds ago.

I scan
ned Isaac's face. He was still wearing the blue shirt and beige shorts. His face was clean, and his eyes weren’t puffy—I guess I was expecting him to look horrified and tied up somewhere in the dark.

Who the hell has my son?!

I sat on the floor, leaning against the end of the bed, thinking of the conversation with the caller.

Four hundred and fifty thousand...
what a weird number. Why wouldn't they just say an even five hundred thousand?

Holy shit
.

My fingers
flew all over the screen on my phone as I quickly selected my online banking app. I thumbed in the account number, and password. The screen lagged for a moment, and it made me want to scream.

“Four hundred and forty-eight thousand...” I whisper
ed. Reading the balance of Isaac's school fund account. I didn’t know what to do now. Was I supposed to call Detective Campbell and tell him about the call? Should I call Dane and tell him?

Holy shit
.

Dane!

As expected, he walked through the door, letting himself in with his own key card. He looked flustered, dishevelled and angry. He threw his jacket on the bed, and kicked off his shoes.

“Where have you been?” I ask
ed, climbing up off the floor.

“Does it matter?”

“Ugh, yeah?”

“Taking care of business.”

I stepped back from him. “Did you just call me?”

He furrow
ed his eyebrows. “No. Why?”

“Just wondering,” I sa
id, tucking my cellphone into the back pocket of my jeans. I excused myself into the bathroom when I felt my phone vibrate through my jeans. I quickly swiped the screen when I closed the door and leaned against it.

Blocked ID:
Your kid is fine. I just want the money. I'm not going to hurt him, unless you don't pay me. I will contact you in 12 hours with more information.

I
would pay them, I just needed to know when and where.

Another picture
was sent to me following the text message. That time it was of Isaac smiling. He was sitting on a plush white sofa, holding onto a PlayStation remote. The kidnapper was letting him play video games?

My phone went off when I was still standing in the room with Dane, so it couldn't have been him who called me earlier. I swallow
ed hard, and walked out of the bathroom.

“You okay?” Dane ask
ed.

“Yes,” I answer
ed, truthfully. Feeling a little better knowing that my son was still alive and I had a chance to get him back.

“Hungry?”

I nodded.

His eyes narrow
ed. “Me too.”

“I need to call the d
etective. See if he's heard anything yet.”

I call
ed Detective Campbell, who told me what I already knew—they hadn’t found anything new. I decided I couldn’t tell him about the call, not until I figured out how I was going to do this.

Dane order
ed room service for us. An entire roasted chicken, vegetables and baked potatoes.

I devour
ed everything he put on my plate. Feeling a new found sense of hope, and needing to energize my body for the sake of getting Isaac back.

With dinner, came wine. I dr
ank two glasses, and not just a splash. Two full glasses, right down with the chicken into my belly. It warmed me, and I allowed myself to slouch in my chair.

After dinner I call
ed my parents to check on Scarlett, and then I called Addison to tell her I was still alive and that I was hopeful that we would find Isaac soon—without giving any additional details.

I push
ed my chair back from the small table in my hotel room, and crawled on the bed. Laying down on my side, and grabbing the remote to turn on the TV. The evening news was on, it talked a little about the weather—which had been apparently nice, but I didn't even notice. Then the next segment was of me, speaking into the camera, pleading for the safe return of my son. I looked old, my hair was messy and the bags under my eyes were huge.

“Please, if anyone has seen my son, or knows where he is, call the police. He needs me, he needs to be home with his family. Isaac, I
love you.”
My voice flowed from the television, sending goose bumps up my body.

The news channel
had shown a full screen image of the missing poster that was all over Buffalo, and then spanned back to the two news reporters that were sitting at a desk.

“If you have any information regarding the whereabouts of ten year old Isaac Harrison, please call the Buffalo police department, or 9-1-1,”
one of them said. A commercial played after the news segment on Isaac, and I turned away from the TV.

Dane
sat in the chair, still at the table, and glared at me; making me shiver. “Do you want some more wine, Riley?”

I nod
ded. “Sure.”

He pour
ed some into my glass and got up from his chair to bring it to me. “I'm leaving for Augusta in the morning,” he said, huskily.

“Oh?” I ask
ed, with a cheek full of wine.

“I have some business to take care of. But, before I go, I'm going to
convince you to sleep with me.”

I raise
d an eyebrow and gulped down the wine, it burned on the way down. “What?”

“No more games, no more teasing. I've been patient long enough.”

I snorted. “You haven't been patient at all. And you're crazy to think I'm going to have sex with you while my son is God knows where out there!”

The t
hree glasses of wine had started to make me a tad tipsy, and I can only blame myself. Well-knowing what it would do to me, and just who I was alone in a hotel room with.

“You need this.” Dane advance
d, undoing his shirt button by button. “You need to be comforted. To be touched.”

“Last time I checked, I didn't. But thanks for the offer.”

He pulled his shirt off his body, and I bit down on my lip to keep from gaping. When he unbuckled his belt and unzipped his pants, I knew I was going to have to put up more of a fight.

I crawl
ed backwards up the bed, until I was flush against the headboard.