Kidnapping the Billionaire's Baby

Amara had hardly been able to eat, despite chiding herself internally. Though she knew Hampton was safe, the confirmation that Frederik was holding him like a bargaining chip had sent her into a deep, angry despair that she’d been unable to shake.

A silence fell between her and Quint, though it wasn’t for a lack of trying on his part. Every attempt to cheer her up or reassure her seemed to fail, and his feelings of helplessness were starting to show through.

Despite the strained communication between her and Quint, he’d been completely assured of the outcome from the moment they received the message. He had confidently reassured Amara that success was only a matter of time. Still, the waiting game was almost more emotionally draining than not knowing anything.

Amara’s eyes were fixed on Plaza Independencia below, watching the people and vehicles come and go. The longer the wait, the more bitter and angry she became. As much as she tried to keep it bottled up, she lashed out in hopeless frustration a few times, and only felt worse for having subjected Quint to her outbursts.

He did his best to keep her calm, but she knew that there was no way he could understand the pain of being a mother separated from her child, especially in such a traumatic and heartless way.

It escaped her notice completely when Quint came outside and took the seat across from her at the little table, his own eyes cast down to the Plaza. Only when he spoke was she pulled from her ruminations.

“I think we’re going to hear from him today,” Quint said. “As smart as he thinks he is, he’s predictable. I know his type. Amateur psychological-warfare wagers. He’s trying to make us squirm, to make us desperate. I’m not giving him the satisfaction. He’ll come back with what he actually wants soon.”

“I know you can’t help how you feel,” he continued. “But I do hope you take comfort in the fact that while we’re stuck waiting, I’ve seen to every possible contingency. By the end of the week, we’ll be back in America, and he’ll have his money. Of course, he’s going to lose it as soon as I get in touch with INTERPOL. He won’t see the light of day for a long, long time Amara.”

She slowly turned to face him, the now-familiar mix of anger and despair rushing through her veins. She tried to control it. To speak calmly. “What if he takes the money and runs? I don’t think he’d stay here. He brought us here to have a home turf advantage. He knows this place, the people. He has connections. People who will help him get away with anything. Once he gets what he wants, he’ll turn ghost. With that kind of money, he can go wherever he wants, and we might never hear from him again.”

Quint slowly shook his head. “He can’t. There’s nowhere they won’t track him, unless he decides to go off to live with some tribe somewhere remote, which he won’t do. As long as he spends money, he’ll leave traces. It doesn’t matter how careful he is. Airports, seaports, over-land transportation … there’s always a record. But Amara, we don’t need to worry about all of that right now.”

She leaned forward, burying her head in her trembling hands. “I feel so helpless, Quint. My baby boy’s with him. What does he know about taking care of a child? Has he been fed? Are his basic needs even being met? Frederik has no reason to give a damn about Hampton, aside from keeping him alive to get the money.”

Quint lightly stroked her hair. “I’m right here with you. I’m worried about the same things, I truly am. Why don’t you tell me more about Hampton?”

Amara was silent for a long moment before she gave a soft nod. “I … yeah. I’m so sorry you haven’t gotten to see him, hold him … look into those beautiful blue eyes.”

“I have this,” he said, taking out a photo from his jacket pocket. It was the photo Amara gave him back during their dinner the night Hampton was kidnapped. She could easily see how it was bent in many places and already fraying on the edges. Clearly, this was a photo that had been studied often since she gave it to him.

Knowing he’d spent so much time looking at the picture of his lost son sent a painful spear straight through her heart. She should have given him more pictures. Why hadn’t she brought some? She only had the ones on her phone.

She hopped up, ran into the living room where she’d left her phone and came rushing back outside with it. She brought up Hampton’s pictures and handed the phone over to Quint.

“Here. Show and tell. He’s so curious and intelligent. Even as young as he is, it’s easy to tell he’s going to go far. Everybody who lays eyes on him pretty much squeals in delight.” A quiet, somewhat restrained laugh passed her lips. “You should’ve heard Kari cooing at him at the hospital. She hasn’t been able to get enough of him.”

Quint gave an encouraging smile and nodded, looking raptly at the pictures on the phone. “He does come by it all honestly, doesn’t he? A gorgeous, intelligent mother alone would be enough to give him a leg up, but I think my contribution might help a little, if you’ll forgive my ego. Those blue eyes of his are all me.”

He brought a finger up and tapped next to his eye. “You better watch out for them, too. When I figured out how to make the right eyes at people to get what I wanted, I was king of the world. Or, at least, of my house. And the playground.”

Amara smiled. “So that’s how you made all that money. You made sweet eyes at all those investors and CEOs, and they rolled right over, huh? I should’ve known they were some kinda magic.”

“You’ve got to play to your strengths,” he said.

“I-I never told you, but even after what happened after that conference, I could never forget your eyes. I’d find myself daydreaming sometimes about what might have been if things hadn’t gone sour between us. I always half-hoped we might meet again someday. When we did, it was not exactly under the circumstances I had in mind, though. Surrogacy and an international manhunt are a combination that I didn’t anticipate.”

The smile slowly faded from her face as she looked out over the city again. “He’s out there somewhere, Quint. My baby. Our baby. He could be right there.” She pointed into the distance. “Or there.” She pointed in a different direction. “Somewhere. He’s crying for me. I feel it inside, in my stomach. An ungodly ache that never quits. I miss him so —”

Quint stood and moved around to place a hand at her shoulder, giving a gentle squeeze as she leaned against him, the sobs finally overcoming her will to hold them back as she found the tears again that had been dried for days.

Amara managed to pull herself up from her seat long enough to lean against Quint, sobbing openly at his chest as he wrapped his arms around her. Her legs trembled, body and mind completely overwhelmed with the rush of emotions she was seemingly drowning in. It was irrational, she knew, this swamping of emotions. She wasn’t even sure what all of it meant.

Release. That was what she sought perhaps. Tenderness, comfort, escape. It made no sense. She made no sense.

Chapter Twenty Eight

AFTER A FEW MINUTES OF being held up and comforted, Amara found herself in Quint’s arms. Even after all he’d endured, he was strong enough to pick her up and hold her to his chest without so much as a grunt of exertion. She clung to him greedily.

He carried her to the master bedroom and laid her carefully on the bed before leaning down to kiss her brow softly. “Rest, Amara. You don’t have to worry about anything right now. I’m going to take care of this. All of it.”

As he brought the sheet and blanket up to cover her, she reached out and grabbed his wrist. What she said next should have been a surprise, but it wasn’t. At that moment, it seemed a long time coming. She needed. Needed, so badly.