Ransom

Ransom

By

Erica Sutherhome

This is a work of fiction.  Names, characters, places and incidents are products of the author’s imagination or are used fictiously and are not to be construed as real.  Any resemblance to actual events, locales, organizations, or persons, living or dead, is entirely coincidental.

LULU BOOKS

3013 Hillsborough St.

Raleigh, NC  27607

Copyright © 2012 by Heather Crouse.

ISBN:  978-1-300-44528-9

Cover Art:  Cougawoman, Photobucket

All rights reserved.  No part of this book may be used or reproduced in any manner whatsoever without written permission, except in the case of brief quotations embodied in critical articles and reviews.  For information address Lulu Press.

First Lulu Books printing:  December 2012

Second printing:  2013

Printed in the U.S.A.

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Ransom

Chapter 1

“Lance, wait!”

Lance Redding turned and held back, decided not to pull his black truck away from the curb.  The man running toward him was one of his cousins, one he hadn’t seen in years.  An alarm rang inside his head.  Quinn wasn’t the type to be that concerned with family.  It had to be important.  “What is it?  What’s wrong?”

The man gasped when he reached Lance, and he worked on trying to catch his breath.  They both had similar familial features, but that was really where the similarities ended.

“What happened?”

“It’s about Louis.”

Lance grimaced.  His other cousin was always notorious for getting into questionable situations.  Louis had spent the night in the slammer a few times.  “What about him?”

“He’s in trouble, Lance.”

He groaned.  “Really,” he said dryly.  “What did he do this time?”

“It’s not like that.  It’s the kind of situation you can’t get out of…it’s real trouble, Lance, and he’s not telling us anything.”

“Wait just one damn minute.  You know he’s in trouble and he hasn’t told you the details?”

“No, he hasn’t.”  Quinn sighed.  “We’ve been out of contact for awhile.  He’s nowhere to be found.”  He shook his head.  “You know that’s not like him.”

“And you haven’t done anything about it?”

“What did you want me to do?  Call the cops? Like they’d believe me after what he’s done before?  I don’t think so.”  He sighed.  “I thought it was better if I went to you. You can handle things like this. You have…connections.”

He scoffed.  “Yeah, good ole’ Lance will do anything for family, right?”

“That’s right.”

With a grim look, he said, “Where do I find these people, huh?  Do you even know that?”

“Louis left some information behind.  Maybe you can find out?”  He handed over a card with a number and address.

Lance took it without hesitance.  “Quinn, I’ll do what I can.  That’s all I can promise.”

“He’s my brother, man.”  The concern there in Quinn’s eyes was hard to mistake.

His respect for the man deepened, that he could be this worried about Louis’ situation.  “You have my word.  I’ll do what I can.  But, I wish you had done something sooner.”

“You have no idea how much I regret that.”

It wasn’t until Lance had gotten back to his apartment that he saw the name scrawled across the note along with the address.  A bit of refreshing rage swept over him, and he slammed the flat of his hand on the coffee table.  He barely noticed the sting. 

Yeah, Sanson had a reputation in town.  He was little more than a small time mobster.  But, he wasn’t a man you crossed either. 

And Lance would do anything for family.  Quinn was right about that assumption.  He owed them all.  His aunt Dinah, Quinn and Louis’ mama, had taken him in when his own mother had abandoned him.  Quinn and Louis had been like his brothers. 

Louis was in deep this time though, and Lance had to do something about it.  He rubbed his chin absently.  Though he detested violence, it might be a good idea to buy a gun.  He couldn’t take any chances this time.

****

The next day, he made a trip to the address, a small office building, and on the second floor he found the name on the door and almost felt like turning back.  A sense of dread overcame him.  It wouldn’t do to feel weak in this moment, but it didn’t help that the man involved in this mess was a rascal and someone he was well acquainted with.  In truth, he had stumbled across the man during one of his minor juvenile antics.  He had been busted, of course, and he had learned his lesson then.  But, Sanson continued to prey on the innocent. 

Lance opened the door now and when he requested to see the man, his secretary, a blonde of average height in a brown miniskirt and jacket with heavy makeup, ushered him into another room.  When she closed the door behind her as she hurried back to her desk, he grimaced. 

Her measuring bedroom eyes had been a dead giveaway.  And she was clearly uncomfortable in that suit as if she was used to a lot less.  She had the unmistakable look of a working girl.  She was far from the kind he consorted with, but completely Sanson’s type.

The door then opened to reveal a heavyset man with only one distinguishing feature, cold, black eyes with no depths at all.  His suit stretched tight across his breastbone as he moved and when he sat down, his pant legs revealed his white calves.  These were the only flaws he observed, even though his tailor seemed to favor designer suits.  But that was the wrong assumption as well.  There were other faults and Lance could only conjure up one that mattered.  Sanson was a madman; ever since they’d met, he’d been that way. 

The man arched his fingertips into a triangle as he seemed to survey his visitor.  “I remember you well, Redding.  And I can think of only one reason why you would be here.”

He raised his eyebrows.  “Oh?”

“You made it clear you would…what were the words?”  He rubbed a hand over his chin.  “Never consort with my kind again.”

Lance didn’t comment.  He hadn’t forgotten the vow to this day.

“You are concerned about a relative, I presume?”

He inclined his head in assent.  “Astute of you.”

“Yes, you have come to save someone dear to you.  That is too bad.  You would be a great ally.”

Lance scoffed.  “An ally in your favor?”

“Yes, I suppose you are right.  You don’t have the qualities to carry out such an endeavor.”  He seemed to study Lance carefully.  “Do you know, it would only take a simple call and a flick of the wrist, and your cousin would no longer have to deal with his destiny? He would be…how shall I put it?  No more.”

Lance growled, “You wouldn’t.”  Though he knew it was possible.  The man was far from sane.

“Wouldn’t I?  I am his employer.  It would be simple enough.  Isn’t it his own fault he’s in this line of work?”

“You gave him no choice!”

“Come now, Lance. You know what kind of business I run.  Even being on the good side, you’re aware of the rules.”

“My cousin certainly didn’t know he was in with a lot of cutthroats!”

“Of course he did.  But, as you say, he didn’t have a choice.”  He sighed.  “I have a proposition for you, Lance.  I see you as the heroic type going to all lengths to get your cousin out of this…debacle he’s in.  Perhaps if he met his quota, I would think twice about taking his life…”

“What quota?” he asked warily.

“All you need to be concerned about is how to keep your cousin alive.”

He felt roped into it; but it was the only way without bringing violence into the situation.  And he really didn’t want to go to jail, though God knew the bastard deserved to rot in hell.  “What do you have in mind?”

“A mission entailing the protection of a certain female individual.”

“Protection? That word isn’t even in your vocabulary.”  He frowned.  “What did this woman do to you?”

“It’s what her father did, Lance.  And no more questions allowed.  All I want is for you to hold her at a certain location until you receive further instructions.”

He shook his head.  “This sounds very much like kidnapping.”

“Oh, nonsense, Lance. I am not that way!  Honestly, to hold a female against her will is not like me at all.”

“Right,” he agreed dryly.

“What do you say, my boy?  It’s a simple assignment.  Just hold the girl until I call you.”

“Let me guess.  You took her from her home where she slept peacefully, put her across town in some run-down warehouse, and you expect me to cooperate with this, no questions asked?”

“That’s it.”

“Forget it.”  He turned on his heel, heading toward the door of the office.

“How would you like your cousin’s corpse prepared, Lance?  Perhaps receiving his head in your mailbox is sufficient?”

He froze.  His lids slammed shut.  Sanson would do it without hesitation.  It would take no effort at all.  If he didn’t have one of his lackeys do it, he might even take care of it personally.  The bastard had no remorse. 

There wasn’t a way out of it…out of anything, for that matter.  He had made his bed long ago, and he had paid.  Now he had to pay for Louis.  Damnit, he was going to have to break his vow.  “Give me the information so we can get this damn thing over with.”

The mocking, satisfied laugh that came grated on his nerves.  “Good boy, Lance.  I’ll have the message sent in a day or two.”

“Fine,” he growled, then let himself out of the man’s office.

Chapter 2

As the wind blew and the willows sighed, darkness set in, manipulating everything in its path.  Triana Richards stood at the window, bathed in moonlight, mesmerized by the shadows taking shape on her father’s lawn.  She imagined that any one of those shapes could be a person, a man hiding among the darkness of the forest, watching her as intently as she inadvertently watched him.  She shivered.  Her imagination was running away with her again.  It was something she found hard to prevent.  But, surely there was something out there?  Her instincts said it, plain as day.

Daddy was gone, away at some kind of dinner meeting again.  She hated to be left alone in the house.  It made her stomach ache.  She had just graduated a month ago, and she would be off to college in the fall.  At least then, she’d have a roommate.  But now…she couldn’t even call her friends.  They were shallow, just the kind of girls Daddy had wanted her to hang out with.  But, not really the kind of people she could depend on.  No one understood her really.

She hated crowds. She hated big houses. She wanted to get out of here.  She wanted to see the world on her own terms.  She wanted…God, she was pathetic.  She wanted someone to love her, that was all.  She would need little else. Whether it was family or a romantic interest made little difference. She wasn’t close to her father.  He was always gone, off doing things for work.  Doing charities for some cause or other.  For appearances’ sake, she was sure of it.  It was the exact thing he had trained her for, to be a rich man’s wife, a fate she wanted to avoid at all costs.

She wanted a choice in her life.  She wasn’t even sure she wanted to go to college either.  She had no interests that would make her choose a major. Well, that wasn’t exactly true. She wrote pretty well. She wrote stories. But, really…where could that take her?  When she’d made the mistake of telling her father about her love of writing, he had laughed at her, told her that hobbies were well and good, but a husband was what she really needed to look for.

It was insane. She was only eighteen…well, nineteen in the fall.  But, she wasn’t ready for marriage. And she wasn’t going to just take the first rich guy that came along.  Her father would be in for a surprise.  She might take a few years to choose, but it would be her choice.  Not his.  Besides, all of the rich kids from her school were jerks, especially the boys.  When they’d found out who her father was, they surrounded her like insects buzzing around a neon light.  It was disgusting really.

She just wanted to be wanted for herself, not because of her family.  God, she hated her dysfunctional situation.  Her mother had left years ago, taken off with her aerobics instructor.  How typical.  And she hadn’t heard from the woman since.  Whatever. 

Maybe she was destined to be alone.  Maybe that was all right too.  When she got out of here, she’d get her own little place, make it the way she wanted, and never look back.  Daddy would sure be in for a surprise.  He would never have a rich son-in-law to shoot the crap with. 

Reluctantly, Triana climbed back in bed, heard an owl cooing in the night.  Instead of comforting her, the night sounds unsettled her.  What she wouldn’t give to live near the ocean, to hear the water moving, crashing on the shore at night.  That might be lulling.   

She heard her neighbor’s dog bark.  With a sigh, she turned to her side. 

Suddenly, the house alarm went off, ringing in her ears.  Shrieking, she scrambled out of bed, threw on a robe.  She picked up the phone to call the security company, but there was no dial tone.   It was dead.  Someone had cut it.