“No! Don’t tell me to calm down, Trent. It’s not Cal. It’s Byron. His attorney. Or friend or whatever he is.” I look over my shoulder, feeling like Byron is going to walk in here any minute. “He kidnapped me and we need to go right now.” I pull him again, my hands shaking frantically, and the perplexed look on his face is unnerving. “Why aren’t you listening to me?”
“You seem disoriented. Let me see if I can find someone to get you some water.”
“I don’t want water! I want to leave.” I drop my hand from his bicep and hold it out. “Give me your phone.”
“My phone? Why?”
“Have you not heard anything I’m saying to you? Give me your damn phone, Trent. We need to call for help.”
He’s acting weird. Looking at me like I’m a stranger who’s lost her mind. Why is he just standing there staring at me like that?
“Phone!” I snap my fingers. “Now, dammit.”
Trent reaches in his pocket, his eyes never leaving mine. He retrieves his phone and places it in the palm of my hand. “Won’t do any good. I have no service out here.”
“But you were just talking to someone outside. I heard you,” I choke out before my tears thaw and fall again. I drop down into the chair, still unable to control my shakes. Was it part of the dream? Was he really talking to someone on the phone?
Wait a damn minute!
My back straightens against the chair. “How did you get here? Do you have a boat waiting?”
“It’s returning in one hour. But here’s the thing, Bella…” His words trail off, eyes shooting behind me, wide and cautious.
I look behind me to see what stole his words, and my heart stills.
Jumping to my feet, I hurry to Trent’s side, grabbing his arm and showing Byron that his game is over. Trent will never let him hurt me.
“Get away from me!” I screech at Byron.
Slow and steady steps bring us face to face. He looks at Trent, then me, with a spine-chilling grin.
I take notice of the huge gash on his forehead, blood trickling down from the wound and coating the left side of his face.
“It’s over, Byron. We’re leaving and there isn’t anything you can do to stop us.” I squeeze Trent’s arm tighter, but he moves it, loosening my grip. I look up at him and notice he’s staring down at me. The look on his face alarms every cell in my body.
“Trent,” I say softly.
He moves his arm again and I completely lose my hold on him.
“Trent. What are you doing?” I look from him to Byron, and it’s like four walls closing in on me, only it’s two men. “No.” I shake my head. “Please tell me you’re not on his side?”
I take a step back, tripping over the curled rug, but I manage to catch myself before backsliding into the fireplace.
Byron walks toward me, reaches out and grabs me firmly by the wrist, digging so deep I can feel my pulse pound against his fingertips.
“Money is a beautiful thing, Bella. And you should be thankful that my new employee found you out there or you’d have frozen to death.” He shoves me until I fall back into the chair.
Employee?
“Sorry, Bella,” Trent says with no empathy in his words. “When an old law school buddy reaches out and offers you a partnership at one of the biggest firms in the nation, you have to accept.”
“Old law school buddy?” I mumble. How did I not see this? Mark and Trent went to law school together. That is, until Mark dropped out. That’s how he got Mark. They all know each other and he lured him in with Trent’s help. “Mark is your friend,” I say to Trent. “How could you do this? Not just to me, but to him?”
My stomach churns. I grab it, feeling the rise of bile up my throat.
“What is a friend, anyways?” Trent continues, “Someone who takes his whore of a sister’s side when she fucks her boss? Or how about a person who calls one time in the past eight weeks after you’re brutally beaten to a near-death state? Mark’s not my fucking friend.” He comes toward me, crouches down to where I sit in the chair, and places his hands on my legs. “And neither are you.”
CHAPTER NINE
A gun, a phone, and list of every fucker who will pay for turning their backs on me. That’s what I’ve accumulated since realizing Byron kidnapped Bella.
Now I’m on a call with my pilot, trying to fix the mess Byron has made. I can’t even bring out one of my own jets because that asshole will be hot on my tail. “I don’t give a flying fuck what he made everyone believe. I want a jet on the ground at LGA in twenty fucking minutes, without his knowledge, or you’ll never fly again.” I end the call, trying to calm the raging storm brewing inside me.
Fucking New York City. That’s where this asshole held me captive. This whole ploy has Byron’s name written all over it. Not only is he a native to New York City, but he also attended law school at Columbia and his largest firm is in the Big Apple.
I fucking hate the city. I hate crowds and I hate people. It’s why eighty percent of my hotels are on private islands, with the exception of one that is actually here…in the city. It’s on a smaller scale and doesn’t have all the same luxuries as the other resorts, but it brings in good revenue, so I keep it open.
A call from my head of security, Anders, comes through, and I take it immediately. “Anything?”
“Actually, Boss. We’ve got reason to believe he’s taken her back to Cori Cove. Jeffery confirmed the coming and going of a few different watercrafts over the last forty-eight hours.”
“All right,” I grumble. “I’m headed to the main island. I’ve got a crew waiting to be transported. We have to do this right. There’s no room for fuck-ups.”
“You’ve got it. We’ll get her back, Boss.”
“Damn straight we will.” I look up at the gray skies, feeling the snow fall on my face. “Any word from Peter yet?”
“Nothing. I can only assume he’s there with them.”
“Keep me updated on any changes. Otherwise, I’ll see you within the hour.”
Byron’s gone too fucking far this time. It seems the entire world believes I’m dead, and he’s out there living my life with my girl.
“Stop here,” I tell the driver. He slams on the brakes, likely out of fear of pissing me off further by going a foot too far. I’ve had a few choice words with everyone I’ve encountered today. It seems that coming back from the dead isn’t an easy stint.
I get out, button my suit jacket, and knock my knuckles to the driver’s window while taking in my surroundings at the airfield.
His window comes down and I lean forward, invading his personal space. “You didn't give me a ride. In fact, you didn’t even see me. Got it?”
His response is a coy, “Yes, sir.”
The last thing I need is Byron catching wind of my escape and doing something to harm Bella out of spite.
After standing around wasting time I don’t have, the private jet finally arrives.
I get in, get comfortable, and begin making calls to the men I know will have my back. Loyalty and trust have nothing to do with it; it’s because I pay them and I pay them well.