Billionaire Romance: Spencer's Torment (A Seductive Alpha Billionaire Romance Book 2) (2 page)

“Bridge!” I called out nervously, hoping she had decided to come straight home instead of going out. There was no answer and the “footsteps” I had heard a few moments before were now silent. I paused at the doorway, holding my breath, waiting for confirmation that I really did hear someone. “You home?” I asked.

But after a few minutes without a response, I realized I must have just been hearing things—the refrigerator, ice machine, air conditioner…it was hard to say.

I let out the breath I had been holding in my lungs and relaxed a little, shaking my head at how crazy I had become and silently scolded myself,
Seriously, Emily? You need to pull yourself together.

I tossed my purse onto the couch and kicked off my shoes as I made my way to the kitchen for a glass of water.
It’s actually nice not having Bridget here,
I thought to myself. Mainly because I didn't have the mental energy to keep up the act that I was perfectly fine. I flipped on the light switch to the kitchen and grabbed the water pitcher out of the fridge, filling up my glass on the counter.

I placed the pitcher back in the fridge and gulped down part of the water that I had just poured for myself, feeling like I hadn't had anything to drink in months.
Why did being in the hospital always make me so thirsty?
I shook my head at the idea and slammed my half-full glass back down on the counter, smiling to myself at the symbolism. Just as I was about to turn and head upstairs to my bedroom, I felt someone's hands wrap around me tightly from behind.

I screamed, struggling to get out of the incredibly strong grasp of this stranger, but it was pointless; the more I struggled, the tighter his grip was.

Then I heard a voice that I had hoped I would never have to hear again.

“Don't you fucking make a noise, bitch or I will gut you right here, right now,” he spat into my ear, with one arm around my neck, pulling me into a choke hold.

“Calvin, please!” I whimpered, gasping for air and clawing at him. But it made no difference. He was in control and he knew it.

“That's right. It's me. And I thought I fucking told you to shut the hell up?” he hissed, closing off my airway. “Well, since you won't be quiet on your own I'll just have to do it for you.”

I gasped, struggling to free myself from him. But I realized my efforts were futile, when suddenly everything went black.

*****

When I awoke, the first thought that came to my mind was:
How long have I been unconscious? Minutes? Hours? Days?
I had no way of knowing for sure, but before I could give it much thought, a stinging smell invaded my nostrils—a pungent mixture of rotting flesh and urine that caused me to gag and heave.

Instinctively I tried to cover my nose to avoid the stench, but I quickly realized that my hands were chained and cuffed on either side of me to the wall and a wave of fear and panic washed over me. I whimpered, genuinely terrified for my life. All I could remember before blacking out was Calvin's assault. He must have taken me someplace to hide out. I tried to piece together where I could be, but it was so hard to see in the darkness—especially since my vision was still a little blurry.

I squinted my eyes, hoping that would help, but I immediately noticed a sharp, stabbing pain in my right temple and let out an involuntary cry and my breathing quickened when I heard footsteps moving around above me.
Shit! I must be in some sort of basement,
I thought to myself. Immediately after this realization, a flood of questions came streaming into my mind.
Why would he bring me here? Was he going to hurt me? What did he want from me?

As I thought about all these things, a sinking thought occurred to me: I wasn't gagged. So either we were in the complete middle of nowhere and no one would be able to hear me if I screamed, or Calvin was entirely crazy and had nothing to lose. I wasn't sure which scenario was worse.

Before I could think about it too much, though, the footsteps above me grew louder and I heard the door to the basement fly open, followed by Calvin stomping angrily down the stairs.

A dimly lit bulb swinging in the middle of the room was switched on and I winced in agony, averting my eyes as the light penetrated my corneas and sent a searing pain through my temples. As I looked down I noticed that the floor was dirt—not concrete like I had originally thought and as my eyes adjusted to the light I could see that I was trapped inside of what was, essentially, a large, dug-out hole in the ground. I felt like I was in a real life horror movie with no way out.

Calvin kicked my bare foot and yelled, “Wake up, bitch! We're just getting started.” Then he let out an evil laugh and literally spat in my face.

I cringed, shrinking further away from him as I tried to wipe my face, but it was no use: my arms were chained too high up for me to reach my face or my shoulders to clean off the slime that was now dripping down my cheek to my chin and neck.

“Damn, this is fun! Don't you think it's fun?” he asked, grinning from ear to ear as he kneeled down and leaned in close to my face.

I winced and pressed my cheek as close to the wall as possible, trying to shield myself from his advances.

“Oh, now. Don't be shy. You know I've already been all up in that. There's nothing to hide. Did you forget about our moment, you little slut?” he asked, stroking my face.

I prayed for all of this to end, for him to get bored with the situation and just give up, but that didn't happen. Instead he gripped both sides of my face, hard enough to send volts of electricity down through my neck and into my shoulders. “Answer me, you bitch! I asked you a fucking question,” he spat, slamming my head back into the wall behind me. Suddenly, something started beeping loudly upstairs. It sounded like some kind of alarm, but I had no idea to what.

Calvin released me angrily from his grip and said, “We'll finish this later. You can count on that.” Then he turned and stomped back up the stairs to attend to whatever was making the noise, slamming the door to the basement shut behind him.

I thanked the Universe and whatever God was out there for rescuing me from this moment of torture and prayed that I would somehow be able to get out of all this.

And it really was going to take a miracle because I had a feeling that the only way Calvin intended for me to leave was if I was chopped up into pieces and carried out in trash bags. I was going to have to start fighting for my life.

I could hear Calvin rummaging around upstairs, pacing back and forth—frantically looking for something as he stomped around, throwing out every curse word he knew. He must have found what he was looking for because the cursing stopped and I could hear buttons being pressed. A phone maybe? As if to confirm my thought, he started talking to someone. The words weren't clear, but he was definitely having a heated conversation with whoever was on the other end of the line.

My stomach knotted up as I thought about how limited my time was if I couldn't find a way out of here. After all, Calvin was a ticking time bomb and he was liable to explode at any minute.
Come on, Spencer,
I urged silently, sending out a telepathic message.
You have to find me.
And I truly believed that he would. I just prayed that it wouldn't be too little, too late.

“Are you ready Mr. Ford?”

“Yes, hit play,” I snapped, anxiously awaiting what I was about to see.

“Yes, sir,” replied Agent Crawford, as he clenched his jaw and tapped ‘play’ to roll the footage. Crawford had been the head of my security and surveillance team at Ford Enterprises going on eight years now. Damn good at his job, too, but I couldn't help but be agitated that no one had caught all of this while it was happening.

As soon as the footage started rolling, my stomach sank. I watched the video as the elevator doors opened and out stepped Calvin, talking to someone on his cell phone. I took a mental note of the time stamp on the video being 7:34 a.m. and that's when it hit me...
that bastard was on the phone with me.

Although there wasn't any audio, it was easy enough to piece it all together.

I remembered back to that morning. Calvin had called to see if I'd be around. He said he was in town and wanted to get together, but I told him I was off to New York and I'd be back later that evening.

Even though meeting up was his idea, he didn't seem too upset that I wouldn't have the time and he had simply replied,
“Okay. I'll catch you some other time.”

Then, out of nowhere he asked if I was seeing anyone. At the time I didn't think anything of it and it seemed like a normal enough question. So I said,
“Yeah, actually I just hired a new assistant and I really like her, man. This one's different. We should all get together for dinner sometime soon since you're around. I'd love for you to meet her.”

He sounded intrigued, but distracted all at the same time before rushing me off the phone, saying something had come up and he had to go.

As I watched it play out on camera, it was clear what he had been up to. He was calling me to make sure I wouldn't be there to interrupt his snooping. Because as soon as he hung up the phone, he made his way down the dark hallway to my office and picked the lock.

Once he was in, he fumbled through my desk drawers and file cabinets until he found what he was looking for; a manila folder that I had tucked away in the bottom of the filing cabinet. He flipped through the papers inside and pulled them out. As he looked the information over, he seemed satisfied with what he had found and folded them up, tucking them into his front jacket pocket. And then...he was done. He turned and stormed out of my office, slamming the door behind him as he made his way back down the hall to the elevator.

At first I was confused as to why that folder was so special.
What did he need or want with some random paperwork in my filing cabinets?
Then it hit me: he had found Emily's file, all of her new hire paperwork, her sensitive information and her home address. That's why he had asked if I was seeing anyone earlier. But why?

Crawford and I looked at each other and that's when I realized: Calvin had known about Emily long before he called me. The question was,
how?

“What is it, Sir?” Crawford asked as he paused the footage, a look of concern flashing across his face.

“That file...that's everything I have on Emily. Her bank account info, home address, social security number. Why would Calvin want that?” I questioned, to no one in particular, trying to piece it all together.

A sinking feeling came over me. Something was wrong.

I jumped up, fumbling around in my pockets for my phone, unable to find it quickly enough. “Get O'Neill and Young on the phone right now! Something's not right here. I think Emily may be in danger,” I commanded as I searched for my keys.

“Yes, sir,” Crawford grunted as he picked his phone up and jabbed a few buttons. Within a few seconds, he had Young on the line. “Mr. Ford, I've got Young here,” he said, handing the phone over to me.

I stopped pacing and grabbed the phone, holding it up to my ear. “Young, I think there's a problem! I need both of you inside that house right now.
Right now!
Do you hear me?”

“Yes, I hear you sir. What's going on?” Agent Young responded, concerned.

“I don't have time to explain, but I think Calvin may be targeting Emily again. I need you to get inside and check on her. I'm on my way and I'll be there as soon as I can.” I explained, slamming the phone shut. I handed it back to Crawford and started for the door.

“I've got to get over there,” I said in a trance, running my fingers through my hair in disbelief.

“Mr. Ford, I think it'd be best if I drove you in the Escalade. You're in no shape to drive and I'll be able to get you there much faster,” Crawford said, standing up.

I nodded in response and followed him out the door, hoping that my suspicions weren't true.

*****

Crawford skidded the Escalade to a stop against the curb and put it in park. We had made it across town in record time, just like he had promised, but now...I was frozen in fear. On the drive over I had tried calling Emily's cell nonstop with no answer, trying to justify in my mind the reasons she'd be ignoring my call.
Maybe her phone was dead. Maybe she's in the shower. Her and Bridget are at dinner.

As adamantly as I had wanted to know the truth, to make sure Emily was home safe and sound, now I wasn't so sure. There was a very real possibility that I wouldn't like what I found when I went inside.

I started to feel sick at the idea of what Calvin was capable of; he was darker than I had even imagined. But before I could get too lost in my thoughts, I heard Crawford clear his throat, snapping me out of my twisted daydreams.

“Sir, did you want me to go inside and check things out?” he asked cautiously, authoritatively.

I lifted my gaze up to his and registered the worry on his face. I forced myself to look around at my surroundings. The street was engulfed in darkness, with no sign of Young or O'Neill. But then...I saw the cause of concern on Crawford's face. Emily and Bridget's townhouse was lit up like the fourth of July.

I sucked in a sharp breath and pressed my palms into my face.
This isn't really happening,
I thought to myself.
I'm just overreacting. I'm going to walk in there and Emily's going to be sitting on the couch laughing with Young and O'neill and she's going to just think I'm a crazy, over-protective lunatic. She's going to look at me with her beautiful, sparkling green eyes and shake her head at my over-the-top assumptions.

I took a deep breath and dropped my hands to my lap. “No,” I said. “I'm coming with you.”

With that, Crawford nodded and we climbed out of the Escalade as Young and O'Neill came walking out of the house towards us with grim looks on their faces.

“Sir,” O'Neill greeted me with a nod, not quite meeting my eyes.

“What is it?” I snapped, looking between the both of them for answers.

They were both fidgeting and exchanging sideways glances and finally Young replied, “Sir...she's not here.”

And then at that moment, all of my anxiety and worry bubbled over and released itself. “What the hell do you mean she's not here?!” I exploded in rage. “I left you two with one fucking job to do and you're telling me that you failed?” I asked in disbelief, shaking my head at the ridiculousness of it all.

“We're truly sorry, sir,” mumbled Young.

“Sorry doesn't fucking fix this, does it?” I was trying to keep my cool as best I could, but something had snapped inside of me. The thought of losing Emily was one thing, but to be faced with the reality of it…that was something completely different.

My feelings for her defied any rational judgment on my part and I couldn't imagine my life without her. And as I began to realize that I had failed her when she needed me the most, tears welled up in my eyes and I didn't know how much longer I could keep it all together.

Thankfully in that moment Crawford stepped up to the plate and took charge of the situation. “Young, O'Neill...I think we all realize the severity of the situation if we don't act quickly,” he stated matter of factly.

They both nodded at him and listened intently.

“Alright! Young, you call it in to the station and have them dispatch a unit ASAP. O'Neill, let's go do a walk-through of the crime scene and go over every detail with a fine tooth comb so we can get Miss Emily back home safe and sound. Okay?” he asked, waiting for their responses.

“Yes, sir,” they said in unison and Young immediately broke off from the group and called it in.

Crawford turned to me and put his hand on my shoulder, looking me in the eyes. “Are you gonna be okay, sir?” he asked, concerned.

I shook my head and said, “I'm not sure. But I do know that I've got to do whatever it takes to get her back and if that means putting my emotions on hold...that's what I'm gonna do. Let's do this.” I stood up taller then, forcing myself back into a peak state.

He nodded. “We’re going to get her back. I promise you,” he replied. 

I gave him a sharp nod and we both turned and followed O'Neill into the glow of the house, like moths to a flame.