Van De Shire publicist Eileen Dorset identified Ryder Ottenbagh as the driver of the limousine, having seen him briefly backstage post-auction.
Ryder Ottenbagh lives two hours outside of Anchorage in a remote location. Police are moving toward the coordinates of the Ottenbagh cabin with the hopes of rescuing Justine Van De Shire safely and swiftly.
Luther Morris was not available for comment.
If charged with kidnapping, Ryder will face serious charges and we can only hope our girl Justine is found unscathed.
This scintillating story of an auctioned virgin should be ending with a sweet cherry popping. Not a police chase.
At EXPOSÉ we’re fighting for more than a good story right now. We are on #TeamJustine and hope Justine can find justice!Chapter 17JustineRyder left just like I asked him to.
And now I’m here, face planted in my palms, trying to stop the tears from falling down my cheeks.
I’ve never put myself in a position where I might end up with a battered outlook on love but right now it feels like I dove straight to that place, eyes shut, heart open.
Broken.
I walk down toward the lake, wanting to think through what exactly has me so scared.
Resolving to be more rational about all this, I wipe my face dry and take a deep breath. The fresh mountain air fills my lungs, promising to wash away my worries. The storm has passed and the bright green trees and ferns push me to be present in this moment. I’ve never let circumstance stop me before, and I won’t let it now.
I may have been kidnapped, but in a stroke of irony I was brought to the very land I was trying to save. It could be worse. I could be locked up in a basement with a serial killer.
Ryder is many things but a psychopath isn’t one of them.
But damn, he can be such a fucking ass.
But honestly, can’t we all?
The tears don’t stop flooding my face though. I step over fallen branches and tree roots, as I walk down the hill to the lake
Ryder is more than a man who kidnapped me. He’s also a man who I gave myself to and with good reason. With him, I felt not only alive but beautiful, capable, more myself than I am with anyone else. And the fact that he lives here in this wild land under the clear blue sky, the sort of place I can imagine myself living in so easily, it makes me want to forget that he kidnapped me for reasons that don’t entirely make sense.
It makes me want to run into his cabin and pull his mouth to mine.
It makes me want to pretend that I didn’t come here under these pretenses.
It makes me wish he wasn’t my kidnapper. It makes me wish he could remain my lover.
I run my hands through my hair and wind it up into a messy bun on top of my head, trying to think through what happened after I left the auction last night.
My parents must be worried sick. I can only imagine what happened once Eileen realized I was missing. My head begins to throb at my selfishness. How could I have not insisted on calling them last night to assure everyone that I was safe?
I need to call them now.
Tears fall again as I being to grasp how reckless I’ve been. I can’t believe I forgot everything important just because Ryder was sexy and wild in a way I crave.
I know I need to make the phone call and apologize. I hate myself for being so careless with my family’s feelings. Who knows how many people are out searching for me? There was so much press about my auction that everyone is probably reporting that I’ve gone missing.
Before I make my way up the hill toward the cabin, a seaplane flies overhead. I turn toward it, the bright yellow wings circling the lake, and descending toward the lake.
I lift my hand to my brow, watching the plane as it heads toward me.
The storm from the night before has passed, and the clouds in the sky part, letting the sun shine down on the ride that will take me far, far away from Ryder.
The plane lands on the crystal clear mountain lake, and when the propeller stops whirring, out steps a man.
A man I recognize.
“Justine?” the man calls.
The man who bought me.
Luther Morris. Ryder’s ex-stepfather. The man who paid for me, fair and square.
“It’s me,” I call back, regret washing over me as I walk toward the dock, knowing my prayers were answered with his arrival, but before I reach him, and his outstretched hands, I hear my name being called from up on the hill.
“Justine, stop,” Ryder shouts.
“Don’t listen to him, darling, he doesn’t have his head on straight,” Luther says coolly.
I swallow, the tears pricking my eyes again, hating the idea that the man I gave myself to was a monster. Was anything other than an untamed mountain man, with rough edges yet a soft heart.