His Stolen Bride (Chicago Sons) (15 page)

“Absolutely. I told him you were in love.”

The statement took Jackson by surprise. “I’m not in love.”

Across the living room, Mac grinned.

“Sure,” Tuck said smoothly. “Keep telling yourself that.” He paused. “Until you can’t keep telling yourself anymore.”

“You’re nuts,” said Jackson, and he frowned his displeasure at Mac.

“I know the signs,” said Tuck.

“I’m hanging up now.”

Tuck laughed. “Picturing her in a white dress yet?”

“Picturing her in Vegas.” As soon as the words left his mouth, Jackson regretted them. He knew they left the wrong impression. But he also knew that explaining further wouldn’t help.

“That’ll do it,” said Tuck. “I’ll bring a jet if you let me be the best man.”

“Goodbye, Tuck.” Then Jackson remembered the magnitude of the favor. “And thanks. Thanks a lot.”

The laughter remained in Tuck’s voice. “No problem. This is the most fun I’ve had in weeks.”

Jackson disconnected the call. “Tucker Transportation just secretly bought Cristal Creations.”

“You know, you could do it the old-fashioned way,” said Mac.

“Do what?”

“Date her. Win her over. And when she loves you back, propose.”

Jackson rolled his eyes. “Give me a break.”

“The barriers are out of the way. You don’t need to be her bodyguard anymore. You’re just two ordinary adults.”

Jackson didn’t know why he took offense to Mac’s words. “She’s not ordinary.”

“And you’re not in love.”

“Let’s talk about you and Ellie.”

“I just met Ellie.”

“Uh-huh.” Jackson exaggerated the skepticism in his tone.

“Me and Ellie, that’s me being your wingman.”

“That’s you falling for a beautiful woman.”

“You’re forgetting I didn’t propose to her,” said Mac.

“She’s not the one in jeopardy.”

Mac’s expression turned thoughtful. “See, I can’t picture that.”

“Picture what?”

“Ellie in jeopardy. She’s tough, and she’s smart, and she’d take out any guy who tried to mess with her.”

“Worried?” asked Jackson, glad to have the topic turned away from himself and Crista.

“Nope.”

“Because you’re tougher than her?”

“Because I’m not trying to mess with her.” Mac’s words rang true.

His situation with Ellie was dead simple. While Jackson’s situation with Crista was anything but. He knew how she felt about her father. If he told her he’d been working with Trent, she’d never trust him. But if he didn’t, their relationship would be built on a lie.

It wasn’t a choice. To move forward, he had to come clean and take his chances that she wouldn’t walk away.

* * *

Crista set down the phone, her brain reeling with the news.

“What?” asked Ellie. She was in the small kitchen of her apartment, tearing spinach into a salad bowl.

“Reginald says somebody bought Cristal Creations.”

“What do you mean, bought it? How could they buy it?”

“They bought the company. From Gerhard. Reginald says I still have copyright on the designs.”

Ellie frowned. “Is this good?”

“I think so. Reginald says they want me to keep running the company. He seems really excited about the sale.”

“Who are they?”

“A group of wealthy anonymous investors.”

“Does that strike you as a little hinky?”

“Should it? I do trust Reginald. He says holding companies do this all the time. And it’s got to be better than Gerhard Incorporated.”

“I suppose.” Ellie seemed skeptical, but she went back to tearing the spinach.

Crista told herself to be practical rather than emotional. She fought an urge to call Jackson. She knew the sale had nothing to do with him. He probably wasn’t even interested. Still, she found that she wanted to share the news and get his opinion.

“It’s not like I have a choice,” she said to Ellie instead. “I can’t afford to buy it myself.”

“How much did they pay?”

“It was confidential.”

Ellie shrugged and turned to open a cupboard. “If it’s more than fifty bucks, you couldn’t have afforded it.”

“I’m not that bad off,” Crista protested.

“Oh, crap,” said Ellie.

“What?”

“I forgot to buy almonds. The salad is going to be boring without them.”

“No problem,” said Crista, coming to her feet. “I’ll pop down to the market. I could use the fresh air.”

She could also use a little time to think. Her life felt like a pinball, bouncing off paddles, bonging over points, into traps, some things good and some things bad, but all of them on the edge of control.

“Can you grab a few limes as well?” Ellie called.

“Sure.” Crista retrieved her shoulder bag.

The evening was warm, so she tucked her feet into her sandals and swung the purse over her T-shirt and shorts. She looped her hair into a ponytail in case of a breeze. Then she called goodbye and locked the dead bolt behind her.

The sun was setting on the street outside, lights coming on in the apartments above the shops. Ellie lived above a florist, which was next to a funky ladies’ boutique and a toy store. There was a bakery on the corner with a compact grocery store opposite.

Traffic was light now that rush hour had passed. Neighbors and shoppers cruised the street, while laughing groups of people from the after-work crowd—or maybe they were tourists—sat drinking at the open-air café on the other side. The buzz of traffic, the aromas of yeast and cinnamon, and the bustle of ordinary Chicagoans on a Thursday night made her feel normal. It felt good.

She stopped at the corner, waiting for the walk signal.

The light was yellow, and a minivan with smoked windows came to a stop at the intersection. A silver sedan came up behind it. The minivan’s door slid open and a man hopped out. Crista moved to one side so he could get around the light pole.

Suddenly, she felt a shove from behind. The man stared her straight in the eyes. He moved out of the way, and she was instantly propelled forward.

“Hey!” she shouted, angry at being jostled.

But the next thing she knew, she was inside the van.

The door slammed shut.

“Stop,” she shrieked.

A hand clamped over her mouth, and an arm went around her like a steel band. The horn honked, and the van lurched away from the curb, cutting around the corner to a chorus of horns from outside on the street.

A hood was thrown over her head, and sheer terror rocked her.

“Keep quiet,” a gravelly voice commanded in her ear. Then he pulled his hand from beneath the hood.

She had no intention of keeping quiet. “What do you think you’re—”

A hand immediately came over her mouth, pressing the rough fabric against her teeth.

“Quiet,” the voice repeated.

She felt the car slow to a stop, and she screamed at the top of her lungs, hoping someone outside would hear.

The hand stopped her again, and the man swore.

“She pierced my eardrum,” he shouted.

“Crista, stop,” came another voice.

She froze. She knew the voice. And now she was more frightened than ever.

“Vern?”

“Nobody’s going to hurt you,” he said.

“What are you doing?”

“We need to talk.”

“You’re
kidnapping
me.”

“You should be used to it by now.” His tone was cool.

She kicked the back of the driver’s seat. It was out of sheer frustration because her legs were the only thing she could move.

“Hold her still,” came a third voice.

“Let me go,” she demanded. “This is illegal. You’re all going to be arrested.”

“Like you had Jackson Rush arrested?”

The question caught her off guard. “He had his reasons.”

“And I have mine.”

“You can’t do this, Vern. Whatever you think you’ll accomplish, it’s not going to work. You have to let me go.”

“Get rid of her cell phone,” said Vern.

She felt a hand dip into her purse, rummaging around.

“Hey,” she protested.

“Got it,” said the voice beside her.

“Toss it,” said Vern, his tone cold.

Her sliver of hope faded.

Jackson could have tracked her phone. When she didn’t come back to the apartment, Ellie would get worried and she’d call Jackson. At least Crista hoped she’d call Jackson. And Jackson would have known how to access the GPS.

She heard the window roll down and the traffic noise increase, felt a breeze buffet across her, and she knew her phone was in the gutter.

She was at Vern’s mercy.

She wished she knew what that meant. But the truth was she didn’t know anything about him. The Vern she’d planned to marry never would have kidnapped her. He’d never have cheated on her. He’d never have terrified her like this.

Her throat went dry, and a chill took over her body. She was in the clutches of a stranger, and she had no idea what he might do.

CHAPTER TEN

“S
he’s not picking up,” Jackson said to Mac, his frustration turning to worry.

“Maybe she doesn’t want to talk to you.”

“Why wouldn’t she want to talk to me?”

Jackson didn’t expect her to call him the minute she finished talking to Reginald. Then again, he didn’t see why she wouldn’t call to tell him Cristal Creations had been sold and she didn’t have to worry about Gerhard owning her company. Did she not think he’d be interested?

“It’s only been ten hours since you saw her,” said Mac.

“That’s not the point. She’s had some pretty big news since then.”

“Maybe Reginald hasn’t called her yet.”

“He’d call her right away.”

Jackson was sure about that. But he couldn’t very well call Reginald to confirm it. As far as Reginald was concerned, the purchase was a completely random act of an arm’s-length company. Jackson intended to keep him thinking just that.

“You’re obsessing,” said Mac.

Jackson tossed his phone onto the coffee table. Was he obsessing? He wanted to talk to her. Was that being obsessive?

“Call Ellie,” he said.

“And say
what
?”

“I don’t care. Anything. Find out if Crista is with her.”

“I’m going to look like a stalker.”

Jackson picked up his phone and redialed Crista. It went straight to voice mail.

“Maybe she’s talking to someone,” said Mac.

“For forty-five minutes?”

“Maybe it’s turned off.”

“Why would she turn it off?”

“In the shower, taking a nap, in bed with—” Mac cut himself off.

“She’s not in bed with some other guy.” Though the thought did make Jackson’s stomach churn. “You have to call Ellie.”

“Fine,” Mac said in a clipped voice. He dialed with his thumb. “If I’m going to look stupid, just so you know, you’ll owe me.”

Jackson nodded.

“Hey, Ellie,” Mac said into his phone.

Jackson couldn’t help but notice Mac’s voice changed when he talked to Ellie, going deeper, smoother, more intimate. He obviously liked Ellie more than he was letting on.

“Really?” Mac’s tone turned to alert, causing Jackson to look up. “When?”

“What?” Jackson asked.

Mac’s look was intent and focused. “Did you call her?”

Adrenaline rushed into Jackson’s system, and he came to his feet.

Mac stood. “We’ll come to you.”

“What?” Jackson all but shouted.

“Sit tight,” said Mac, signing off. “Crista went to the store and didn’t come back.”

“When?” Jackson asked, his feet already taking him to the door.

“Over an hour. Ellie said she was about to call us.”

“What store?” asked Jackson. “Driving, walking?”

“Two blocks from Ellie’s apartment. She walked.”

Jackson swore as he flung open his front door.

“We don’t know anything for sure,” said Mac.

“He’s got her,” said Jackson.

“That’s a pretty bold move.”

“I shouldn’t have left her alone.”

“You can’t watch her for the rest of her life.”

“I could have watched her for the rest of the week.” Jackson would have considered the rest of her life. He realized he’d have seriously considered sticking right by her side forever if it would keep her safe.

“You want me to drive?” asked Mac.

“No, I don’t want you to drive.” The last thing in the world Jackson could do right now was sit idle.

“Jackson, we have to treat this as just another case. Emotion is clouding your judgment.”

“My judgment is fine.” Jackson wrenched open the door of the SUV. “Call Ellie back,” he told Mac as he peeled out of the driveway. “Get whatever details you can.”

Jackson pressed on the accelerator, racking his brain. Where would they take her? It wouldn’t be the mansion. That was too obvious. Maybe to one of their businesses, one of their construction sites. Would they threaten her? Would she defy them? He was terrified she would.

Then he had an idea. He dialed Rush Investigations, getting the night shift to ping her phone location. It took only moments to learn the phone was southeast of Ellie’s.

Jackson disconnected. “Her phone is at Edwards and Ninety-Fifth. It’s stationary.”

“They ditched it,” said Mac.

“Likely.”

“They had to know you’d check.”

Jackson smacked his hand down on the steering wheel. They could easily have changed directions right after they tossed her phone.

He took an abrupt right turn.

“Where to?” asked Mac.

“The office. Call ahead. I want a list of every known Gerhard vehicle. Give them Ellie’s address. Get them to canvass local businesses for security footage. Cross-reference vehicles on Ellie’s street at the time to the place where the phone was dumped.”

“Roger that,” said Mac, disconnecting from Ellie.

At least it was something. If they could find a vehicle that had been in both places, maybe they could get make and model or even a license plate. If they could, they had a chance of tracking it farther.

“And Gerhard’s buildings,” said Jackson, his brain clicking along as he drove. “Locate
all
of his buildings. I want it mapped out by the time we get there.”

They were going to need intelligence, and they were going to need reinforcements.

“Will do, boss,” said Mac. Then he began relaying instructions to the Rush Investigations office.

Jackson sped up.

* * *

When they removed the hood, Crista found she was in a warehouse. It was cold and hard, with concrete floors, metal walls and high, open ceilings. The few fluorescent lights that buzzed suspended from the crossbeams did little to dispel the shadows. The cavernous room was full of rusting shelves and aging steel bins, with stacks of old lumber piled helter-skelter along the far wall.

They’d sat her in an old folding chair next to a battered wooden table and three other chairs. They’d tied her hands behind her back. But at least she could see now.

Vern stood in front her, along with his father, Manfred, and a craggy-faced man she didn’t recognize. She could see two guards at a nearby door, their backs to her.

“What do you want?” she demanded of Vern.

Part of her was terrified, but another part found the entire situation too absurd to be taken seriously. It was as if Vern and Manfred were both playacting. And for a hysterical moment, she thought she might laugh out loud.

But then the moment passed, and she shivered from the cold and fear. Nobody was playacting. She was in genuine danger.

“I want you to marry me,” said Vern in a matter-of-fact voice.

The statement struck her as beyond ridiculous.

“Right here, right now,” he continued, glancing at the craggy-faced man. “If you do that, I promise to give you a divorce in a couple of months.”

Manfred cleared his throat.

“Six months, tops,” said Vern.

“I’m not marrying you,” she said. “You cheated on me. You lied to me. You just kidnapped me, and you have me tied up in a warehouse.” Her voice rose to an almost hysterical pitch. “I don’t know what passes for romance in this dysfunctional family, but I assure you this isn’t doing it for me.”

Manfred raised his arm as if he was going to backhand her.

She braced herself.

But Vern stepped forward and grabbed Manfred’s hand. It was the first time she’d ever seen him stand up to his father. She found herself astonished.

“That’s not necessary,” said Vern.

“Make her listen,” Manfred hissed.

“You need to marry me,” said Vern, his tone going earnest.

She kept silent. Tears burned in the corners of her eyes.

“You have two choices,” said Manfred, both his voice and his expression more intimidating than she’d ever seen. “Marry my boy now. Sail the Mediterranean just like you planned. Work on your tan, enjoy the food, drink the wine. He’ll divorce you soon enough.”

“And keep my diamond mine,” she dared to say.

“And keep your mine,” Manfred agreed, not seeming surprised that she knew.

“You know it’s bogus,” she said.

Both men looked confused.

“I don’t know how you know about it, but my father’s a con artist. He will have set this up for some convoluted reason of his own. There is no mine. And if there is, it doesn’t have any diamonds.”

Manfred gave a chilling smile. “Oh, there’s a mine, all right.”

Crista shook her head. “This is pointless.”

“If there’s no mine,” Vern added reasonably, “then there’s nothing for you to protect.”

“I’m not marrying you,” she said.

Mine or no mine, she wouldn’t promise to love and honor Vern. She’d dodged that bullet when Jackson grabbed her outside the church, and she wasn’t about to throw herself back in front of it.

Jackson had shown her the truth about her fiancé. He’d shown her the truth about other things, too, like how amazing and trusting a relationship could be between two people. Despite how it had started, in such a short time, she felt closer to Jackson than she’d ever felt to Vern.

She could be herself with Jackson, her total candid self. He didn’t mind if she was opinionated. He didn’t mind if she argued. He even knew about her father, and he hadn’t pitied her. He’d understood. He understood her embarrassment, her anger, even her denial in a way few other people could.

She suddenly missed him with all her heart. She realized she should have said yes to staying at his place. For a crazy moment, she even wished she’d married him. Maybe they’d be in Vegas right now having an outlandish honeymoon in a garish hotel, playing poker or watching a circus act.

“That brings us to choice number two,” said Manfred, making a show of inspecting his manicure as he spoke.

Her thoughts of Jackson vanished, and her fear returned. The ropes were tight around her wrists, chafing her skin. And she was growing colder by the minute. It was clear that Manfred was perfectly willing to have her suffer.

“We sign the papers for you,” he said, his expression remorseless.

“What papers?” She couldn’t help but ask. She looked from Manfred to Vern.

“Hans over there is a very good forger.”

“For the mine?” she asked. Did they want her to sign over ownership of the mine? She’d do it. She was positive there was nothing to lose in that.

Manfred clicked his teeth as he waggled a finger at her. “Oh, no, that would be too suspicious. Hans will sign the marriage license for you.”

Crista drew back in the metal chair. Their plan was to forge a marriage license. Exactly how did they expect that to work? She’d only deny it the minute they let her go.

“Then it’s off on your honeymoon,” said Manfred, sounding like he was enjoying himself. “Only to perish in a very tragic drowning accident off the yacht.”

She stilled. Had Manfred just threatened to kill her? Did he expect her to believe him?

She found herself looking to Vern again, searching for the man who’d held her so tenderly. They’d danced. They’d laughed. She’d commiserated with him over his unbending father. He’d proposed on one knee with candlelight and roses.

“You’re not throwing me overboard,” she said to him. There was no way she’d believe that.

“We don’t have a prenup,” said Vern, sounding frighteningly practical. “Our wills were drafted weeks ago. It would be tragic, but it would be completely believable.”

A sick feeling welled up inside her. “I already told you, the mine’s a fake. Take it. It’s not about the mine. It’s about not wanting to marry you.”

“Give me a break,” Vern scoffed.

“What about when—” Crista stopped herself. She’d been about to point out that Ellie would go to the authorities. She wouldn’t for a second believe Crista had willingly married Vern.

But saying it out loud would only put Ellie in danger. The last thing she wanted to do was hurt Ellie.

As her fear grew to unbearable heights, suddenly a loud crash reverberated through the warehouse. Men shouted over the sound of running feet. Manfred turned, while Vern and the craggy man turned pale. Everything was in motion around her.

Vern grabbed her, pulling her to her feet.

“Let her go!” Jackson shouted.

Crista wanted to whoop and cheer. Mac was there. So were a bunch of other men. The Gerhards’ security guards seemed stunned, too.

“Let her go,” Jackson repeated and began pacing toward them.

“Don’t come any closer,” Vern growled, waving a gun.

“Jackson,” she cried, both relieved and newly terrified.

“Walk away from this,” Manfred commanded.

“Not going to happen,” said Jackson.

Crista focused on Jackson, trying to send a message with her eyes. She was grateful he was here. She was so glad to see him. She didn’t see a way out, but she hoped he had a plan.

She started to work on the knots, hoping to free her hands from the rope and be ready.

“He’s here for the mine himself,” said Vern. “Nothing more, nothing less.”

“I’m here for Crista,” said Jackson.

“You didn’t think we’d find out?” asked Vern.

“I don’t care what you think you know,” Jackson spat.

“He wants the diamonds every bit as much as I want the diamonds,” said Vern.

“There
are
no diamonds,” Crista shouted. Why wouldn’t anyone listen to her?

“Did you ever ask him how he knew?” asked Vern.

Jackson took a step forward.

Vern pulled her tighter, jabbing her with the gun.

“Ask who sent him. Ask him how he knows your daddy’s cell mate. Ask him how many times he met with Trent Corday before he dragged you from our wedding.”

Jackson’s jaw hardened, and his nostrils flared. But he didn’t deny the accusations.

Crista tried to make some sense out of it. “You know my father?”

“What was the deal?” Vern asked Jackson. “Were you going to split it fifty-fifty?”

“It’s complicated,” Jackson said to Crista.

Her heart sank. At the same time, her hands came free of the rope.

“What was the plan?” repeated Vern. “Were you going to marry her instead?”

Crista withered.

Jackson’s frown deepened.

Vern laughed out loud. “Oh, that’s too rich. You already asked her to marry you? You couldn’t even wait, say, a month or so, to let the dust settle?”