Chapter 72 Who Took Her?
“Sorry, who is this? And why do you have her phone?”
Marcus’s question into his phone doesn’t get a response straight away.
The second he saw Sel’s name pop up with an incoming call, he stepped out of David’s study, the excitement bubbling in his stomach at the thought of talking to her. It happens every time they speak now, and Marcus is well aware of how smitten he is with this woman.
But his excitement quickly evaporated when a man’s voice started speaking, too fast initially for him to understand even after he’d gotten over the shock of it not actually being Selena. The person was just rambling, and Marcus only heard Nora’s name mentioned a minute in.
That’s when his brain kicked into gear.
“Who is this?” Marcus repeats, only to be met by a sigh on the other end.
“It’s not important, I can’t stay on long.” They reply. “I’d be killed if he even knew I was calling someone about this.”
“Who would kill you? What’s going on with Nora?” Marcus queries, getting annoyed that none of his questions are being answered.
“I don’t always agree with everything he does, you know? But I’ve always stayed out of it. Bankrolling whatever couldn’t be traced back to me. But this time I just feel like it’s taking things too far. So I tried to think of what I could do because he isn’t just going to let me open the door for her to escape–”
“Escape? Nora? Do you mean she’s been taken?”
“Did I not say that? I thought I was pretty obvious.”
“Look,” Marcus sighs. “This conversation would go a lot quicker if you actually told me what’s going on.”
“Right, of course.” The man says. “So, yes Nora’s been taken. Well, brought here to my house of all places. But I suppose that’s what I get for having the biggest house in–”
“Who took her? And then brought her to you?”
“That’s the worst part!” The guy says. “Supposedly it’s this guy she used to be involved with, her father managed to–”
“Malcolm took her?!” Marcus interrupts, storming back into David’s study and waving his hand in front of his friend’s face to get his attention for what he’s going to ask next. “You’re saying Malcolm took Nora? And she’s at your house?”
David’s eyes widen and he immediately stands up from his chair, yanking the phone from Marcus’s ear and putting it to his own.
“Who is this?” David spits into the phone.
“Ahh, you must be Reid.” The guy on the phone says in a tone David can’t quite place. “Look, I don’t know what they’re planning. I try to stay out of it as much as I can, but she’s here and I didn’t know what else to do.”
“Where are you?” David asks, marching around his desk towards his safe, opening it and grabbing his guns.
“I assume you know the great and amazing Rhys Walker?”
“What of him?”
“Nice to meet you too, kid.” Rhys laughs. David slams the safe door shut. “Like I said, I don’t know what they’re planning, but they’re here for now. I’m meant to be data mining this phone that Ethan took off her roommate or something but here I am risking my life and calling the last person in the texts. Didn’t expect to be talking to the source of all of this.”
“Keep them there.” David says before hanging up the phone and tossing it to Marcus. “I know his address. Let’s go.”
Marcus follows him out of the study, texting the guys to meet them at Rhys Walker’s mansion.
“You got a plan?” Marcus asks as they both run down the stairs to the car.
“Yeah, get her out. Alive. The others I don’t give a shit about.” David seethes as he wrenches the car door open and gets in the driver’s seat.
Marcus thinks about asking David if he should drive, but when the engine turns on he realises he has a split second to get in the car before David would leave him behind. So Marcus gets in the passenger seat, and answers Theo’s incoming call, updating him and Harlan on the situation.
David drives just as erratically as Marcus expects he would, but he isn’t concerned. They own half the police in this town, so no one is going to get in their way. He looks at his friend, whose angry eyes are trained on the road while they weave in and out of other cars, hurtling at uncomfortable speed towards the Whitaker mansion.
~
Meanwhile, inside the mansion basement, I startle awake when someone throws an ice-cold bucket of water over me.
Blinking and shaking the water away, I go to lift my hand only to find it painfully tied behind my back. Then I realise I’m sitting on a chair.
Taking a deep breath in as the water drips out of my eyes, I look around to see Malcolm watching me from the doorway, and a man I’ve never met stepping away from me with an empty bucket.
“Welcome back, daughter.” Malcolm smirks.
“What the hell is going on?” I ask angrily, tugging in my chair against my restraints.
“You are fulfilling your end of the deal.” He replies simply.
I blink dumbly at him. Then it clicks.
The other option that David said no to is me.
I feel something bubble in my stomach. Acidic. Rising to my throat. That’s why David agreed to give over the docks. That’s why my father never explained what the option was, because he knew I’d never agree if I knew it meant coming back to him. And yet here I am, back in my father’s grasp out of nothing but my own stupidity.
I feel my shoulders slump out of defeat, and my father sees.
He takes a step forward.
“You know, it really was too easy.” Malcolm laughs. “Ethan couldn’t wait to spill the beans on you after he saw your picture in my office. Asking me all these questions about you, telling me all about your little relationship, how he was desperate to see you again. What started out as him doing a simple drop-off for me five months ago for a bit of cash turned into him becoming an integral part of my plan of getting you back.”
“Ethan would never have agreed to help you.” I say through gritted teeth, not wanting to believe this version of events.
“Of course he didn’t. But he didn’t have a choice after I reminded him how easily I can get to people.”
“You threatened his family?” I ask, the idea somehow surprising me even though Malcolm has done it many times before.
Even gotten me to do it on his behalf sometimes.
“Everyone has a weak spot. Ethan had two. His mother, and you. I simply pressed both buttons at once. He was shocked to hear how easily you succumbed to Reid.”
Malcolm stops in front of me, leaning down and using one finger to wipe a tear from my cheek.
I recoil from his touch, my heart hurting at the fact that once again, he has played on my emotions, played on the people I care about to get what he wants.
He just laughs and walks around me.
“Don’t worry, we won’t let anything bad happen to him just yet. He’s upstairs having a drink, if you’d care to join him? We’d have to keep those restraints on you of course.”
“Just let him go. He has nothing to do with this.”
“Now now,” Malcolm tuts. “He’s far too valuable to just let go. Ethan has agreed to stay in the organisation as long as we don’t hurt you.”
“Then you’ve already failed on your part because these restraints aren’t exactly made of cotton candy.” I spit, and Malcolm laughs at my childishness.
“They can come off when you accept that you’re back for good.” He says, leaving the room and taking his henchman with him.
The door slams loudly behind them, and then I’m just left with the sound of my heavy breathing.
It takes a few minutes for me to process my anger.
How Ethan has been poisoned and coerced by my father. How he’s betrayed me. How I never doubted the fact he turned up out of the blue.
Once my brain feels a little less fuzzy, I get to work, trying to get a good look at my restraints. Cable ties. One on each wrist, tying me to the chair. Nothing on my ankles.
But I still have my boots on my feet. I bend down as far as I can, standing up and bending so that I can lay the back of the chair down flat. It pinches my hands between the chair and the floor, but I clench my teeth and take it, because it isn’t long until I manage to shimmy back enough to get my feet behind my hands.
Much easier to work with.
Sitting down, I move my foot next to my right hand, and start undoing the laces. It’s a struggle, but I’m determined, and keep listening out for any noises on the other side of the door.
Threading the now-untied lace between my wrist and the cable tie, I set about tying one end of the lace to my right boot, the other to my left. Testing out whether my haphazard knots are tight enough, I pedal my feet, and breathe a sigh of relief when they hold. I keep going, the tension in the lace starting to burn through the cable tie.
I gasp when it finally pops off, my right wrist finally free, the blood pumping happily back to my hand. Then I start on the other cable tie.
When I’m finally unrestrained, I stand, shaking my tingling hands out as the blood re-disperses around my body, and look around the room. There isn’t much to tell me where I am until I see a couple of barrels in the far corner. On closer inspection, they’re branded with a whiskey logo.
One I know that a specific person is very fond of.
I’m back in Uncle Rhys’s house. Which means I know exactly how to get out.