Three Kinds of Trouble (Sons of Templar MC 9)

“He did,” I agreed. “He followed me there, then he beat me almost to death when I told him I wanted nothing to do with him. Stellar job you did raising him, by the way. After that, I never saw him again. And I for one could not be happier about that.”

Again, none of that was a lie.

Conrad was silent for a long time, glaring at me. I glared right back.

“You had something to do with this, I know it,” he eventually sneered.

“I had nothing to do with this,” I shot back.

“You’re not leaving this house until you tell me where my son is,” he warned me, his voice even now. Almost reasonable. Or it would have been if what he’d said wasn’t absolutely insane.

“I am definitely leaving. Now.” As much as I wanted to turn around and walk out the door, I was not stupid enough to turn my back on a man like him. You didn’t turn your back on a predator, did you?

“I’m afraid not. The men in my employ have been instructed to use any and all force necessary to convince you that staying is in your,” his eyes flickered down to my stomach, “and your child’s best interests.”

It was a physical feat to keep the very large breakfast I’d eaten down. My morning sickness had all but disappeared, so I’d been making the most of it. As much as I would’ve relished ruining something of his, I was not going to vomit all over his no doubt expensive rug. He would not get that satisfaction.

“You own a chain of banks,” I recalled with a frown. “You’re not some kind of mob boss. You cannot have ‘guys’ willing to use excessive force on a pregnant woman.” I spoke with a lot more bravado than I felt.

He stepped forward, and it took every cell in my body not to flinch back. I almost gagged at his expensive aftershave. He wore the same one as Derek.

His eyes were the same blue as Derek’s too.

“I couldn’t expect someone like you to understand this, but enough money can buy you any kind of man willing to do anything.” He grinned, sending chills up and down my spine. “And, honey, your life is worth less than my watch.”

For a horrible moment, I thought he was going to touch me. Or hit me again. Maybe do something worse than that. My bravado failed. Just a little, but he saw it. I knew because his grin stretched wider until he wore a satisfied smile.

He stepped back, having achieved what he’d intended. He’d wanted to scare me. To remind me that he was in control of everything here, that he’d taken away all of my power and agency.

“Martin will show you to your room,” he stated, moving around me to open the door. “You’ll have food brought up to you. And we’ll speak when you’re rested and hopefully a little clearer-headed.”

Chapter Nineteen

My room was nice.

For a cell.

Martin held onto my arm the entire walk, squeezing it so hard, I let out a little whimper. He’d liked that, so he squeezed it harder.

I didn’t fight him because I’d suspected he’d like that too. I was actually relieved when he shoved me into the room, and I heard the click of the lock behind me. I tried my best not to think about the fact that he had the key and could unlock it any time he saw fit.

Of course I tried the windows, even though I was on the second story and there was nothing below but polished concrete. The windows were locked. There was no phone in the room. Nothing I could effectively use as a weapon.

There was a bathroom complete with a claw-footed tub, walk-in shower and a large four-poster bed. One that I was never going to be able to sleep in, no matter how long they left me in here. I had to keep my wits about me.

I woke with a start.

The kind of way you saw people wake up in movies that seemed ridiculously dramatic and unrealistic. Where they sat up with an audible gasp, hand at their throat.

Yeah, I woke like that.

I woke up in a bed in a house where I was being held hostage by my dead ex-boyfriend’s crazy, violent father. While almost five months pregnant. No one knew where I was, no one was going to be able to find me.

Save me.

I could very well die here. My hand went to my stomach. We could very well die here.

Yes, those were some pretty good fucking reasons to wake with a start. I chastised myself for falling asleep in the first place. I really had underestimated how tired I would get, especially after eating the large—and surprisingly delicious—meal that was delivered to me after the sun went down. Thankfully, it hadn’t been Martin who’d delivered it. Nor was it my driver, Sanderson. It had been someone else entirely, a man who wouldn’t meet my eyes.