Her Billionaire Daddy, page 12
Jackson paused for a moment thinking over the question. "Flowers aren't really my specialty." He grabbed the keys to his truck. "I'll drive around, see what I can find. Do you want me to call the police and get them involved?"
"No. I need to ring my friend with the FBI on another matter and I think he'll be able to help." As much as he wanted Jackson and the other Doms to find Samantha, he also knew the severity of the situation. If they screwed up, it could mean her life. Whoever captured her hadn't wanted her for ransom or they'd have demanded payment. "Just hang tight until I call."
Jackson groaned. "I can't just sit on my ass and wait for Samantha to return." His frustration was getting the better of him. He headed outside. "While you do your thing, I'm going to do mine."
"Jackson," Martin warned him.
"I'm not going to sit on my ass and wait for her not to show up. I need to do something, feel useful," Jackson said.
"Fine. Leave your phone on," Martin said. "I'll call you as soon as I find anything."
"Same."
Martin hung up the phone, his heart heavy.
"It'll be okay," Harper said, resting a hand on his shoulder.
It didn't feel like it would be. Martin and Harper headed to the private hangar where his jet awaited them. On the ride over he spoke with Agent Fitzpatrick requesting his assistance. They were working diligently on pulling surveillance to locate the nearest field of purple daisies in the Ravenwood region and also pulling phone records for Samantha's cell phone to see if there was any obvious correlation between the two. Martin also relayed Agent Fitzpatrick the matter with Bryan and Harper, him torching Martin's club. That however would be secondary as Samantha's abduction was the primary concern and case they were working.
Heading with Harper to the private jet, he led her on first and then followed behind her, taking a seat just as his phone buzzed.
"Agent Fitzpatrick, tell me you have something," Martin said, answering his phone.
"We have a possible suspect. Her ex-husband Barry Randolph reached out to her numerous times over the past several weeks. It appears only once that the call lasted for three minutes. Did she tell you he called?"
Martin shook his head, momentarily forgetting that Agent Fitzpatrick couldn't see him. "Uh, no. She never mentioned it to me." It was clear that Barry had been harassing Samantha. Why hadn't she told him? Did she not consider Barry a threat? Clearly, she was wrong if he was the one responsible. Not that it mattered who was right or wrong. The only thing that mattered was getting her home safe.
"Shortly after the call had been answered, it appears that her phone returned the call, but it lasted only a minute."
"Why would she call him back? When was this? Can you give me the date?"
The FBI agent relayed the specific date and time.
"He was the anonymous caller that told us to turn on the television when the report got out about our marriage. Is there any chance he's involved in leaking the legal documents?" Martin asked.
"I'd need to have my team investigate the matter further, but I doubt a man of his intelligence could have done the job on his own. If he's involved, he had help. We will continue to do everything we can to locate Samantha."
"Thank you. I'm heading back to Ravenwood now. We're about to take off, but please try and call me as soon as you hear anything," Martin reiterated. It was unlikely they'd have a signal once they reached cruising altitude, but he held out hope that he'd hear from his friend.
"Buckle up," Martin reminded Harper as they sat across from each other on oversized white leather chairs that rocked and reclined once you were airborne. The seats were locked into place during takeoff and landing as a safety precaution.
The pilot started the engine and within minutes they'd taken off and were approaching cruising altitude. Martin's foot tapped anxiously on the floor of the airplane.
"She'll be okay." Harper said, offering a comforting reassurance.
Martin wasn't so sure. If it was Samantha's ex-husband that had taken her, why wasn't he demanding a ransom payment? What did he intend to do with Samantha? Would he hurt her? Did he want her for himself? His hands balled into fists, anger bubbling inside of him. If Barry so much as hurt a single hair on Samantha's head, he'd kill him.
"She better be," he muttered, unbuckling his belt and standing up. He paced the length of the cabin, restless. Martin found it difficult to sit still. "The FBI thinks it might be her ex-husband." He relayed the information to Harper. "She never talked about Barry. I knew more about her time with Jackson than I did Barry." Martin hadn't really known much about Jackson until he'd met him in the diner that one fateful afternoon.
His phone buzzed with a text message. It was from Agent Fitzpatrick. Field of wildflowers with blue Asters located half-mile from Barry's residence. Could be mistaken for daisies. Surveillance shows his vehicle is on the property. Agents will approach with caution.
Martin tried to dial Fitzpatrick and then Jackson, but the call never went through. He texted Fitzpatrick. Keep her safe at all costs. Negotiate first. Offer him money. Martin feared that if the agents busted in through the doors unannounced, they'd get Samantha killed. He pressed send on the text message, but it came back with an error that it was unsent. He hit resend and tried again. The third time he tried it finally went through.
Agent Fitzpatrick didn't respond to his text. "Damnit!" Had he even gotten the message?
Martin felt as though he had to do something. Sitting on an airplane, returning home wasn't enough. He felt helpless and he didn't like knowing Samantha's life was in jeopardy. She was his wife, his little, and more importantly the love of his life.
Harper watched from her seat, quiet and observing. "She's strong, Martin. She'll be okay."
"You don't know that," Martin spat back. He grimaced realizing his tone had been harsh and directed unfairly at her. "I'm sorry. I'm just frustrated that I can't be there to help."
He texted Jackson next. FBI suspects Samantha's ex-husband.
Forty-five minutes passed before he received notification of a text message. It had been from Jackson. I'm on my way to Barry's house. Will keep you updated.
It was the longest flight of his life.
"Please, Barry. Can I use the bathroom? I really have to go." Samantha was desperate to escape.
Barry had been hot and passionate when they'd first met, but the moment they got married it had all gone downhill fast. He'd controlled every aspect of her life, from what she wore down to not seeing her friends or family. He wasn't a Dom, he was a monster. Barry had ridiculed her clothes to the point of buying her what he wanted her to wear, stockings that were too tight and dresses too short and revealing that made her uncomfortable in her own skin. He wanted to show her body off, like she was an object, his property, for all to see, and when she told him she didn't like the clothes he berated her, time and time again, until the shouts turned into him throwing household objects at her. He always had to know where she was at all times and had installed a tracking device on her phone and her car. He'd call her while he was at work, demanding to know why she wasn't at home, accusing her of sleeping with other men. It had been a dark time in her life. She hadn't been terribly afraid of him, just angry with how he'd treated her. Maybe she should have been more afraid, but he'd left her alone after she walked out on him and told him she was getting a divorce.
Was this his revenge? Why now?
Barry glanced her up and down. "No funny business. You hear me?"
"Yes," Samantha nodded, pretending to be a willing participant. It took him a few minutes, but he undid the knots with the rope for her feet first and then her hands. He retrieved the gun before she could grab it first, watching the weapon situated just behind him.
With her hands and legs free she had a fighting chance. She stood, heading for the bathroom, remembering where it was located.
Barry followed behind her.
"You don't need to follow me, Barry. I can go alone."
"Leave the door open," he demanded.
"No way. You don't get to see me use the bathroom."
He reached out an outstretched hand, blocking her from entering the bathroom as she approached the door. "You leave it open. I don't trust you won't try and escape."
Fuck. There went that plan. "I'm not peeing in front of you, Barry. I'll leave the door cracked."
"Not good enough." His eyes widened and his ears reddened. "You'll leave the door open or I'll give you a bucket and you can use that back down in the basement, where you'll stay."
She stepped into the bathroom. "Fine but it'd be nice if you afforded me a little privacy. Turn around, would you?"
He turned on his heels, facing away from the bathroom door that was ajar. Samantha stepped further inside.
"Don't you dare turn on that sink until you're done. I've seen the movies and how you all pretend to pee while escaping out a window. I'm trusting you, Sammy. Don't break my trust. You remember what happens when you do that, don't you, darling?"
Her stomach sank and she flipped the lid of the toilet, letting it clank loudly. She then tried the window, but the latch wouldn't budge. There was nothing she could successfully use as a weapon against him. A toilet plunger would not knock his ass out. Toilet paper would be even more ridiculous. She relented, flushing the toilet and washing her hands.
"I'm done." Maybe she could make nice and keep him from tying her up again.
"Let's go," Barry said, gesturing for her to lead down the hallway, the way they came. Coming back into the living room she glanced at the sofa and the rope tangled on the floor. "If you promise not to run, I won't tie you back up."
"I won't run." It wasn't a promise, it was a statement. Besides he didn't ask her to promise him that she wouldn't fight back.
A resounding knock echoed through the door.
Barry grabbed the ropes, tossing them on the other side of the sofa so as not to be seen. "Sit down and don't move. Don't say anything," he said, holding the gun in one hand and carefully pulling back the door with the other hand, peeking outside.
Samantha sat quietly down, unsure who was on the other side of the door. If it was Jackson and they'd gotten her message, she didn't want him to get shot. She had to play this carefully.
"Good afternoon," an unfamiliar gentleman's voice said.
"Good afternoon," Barry said, wiping the beads of sweat from his brow. "What can I do for you gentlemen?"
"What's your relationship with God?" they asked him.
"I'm not interested," he slammed the door in their face.
"Help!" Samantha screamed, jumping up from the sofa only to find Barry leaping across the room, tackling her down on the ground, pulling her long blonde hair, causing her to scream even louder.
He shoved his hand over her mouth in an attempt to silence her. She bit down on his hand, wrestling him off her small frame as he tried to cradle his hand while still holding her to the ground.
The door busted open in a heartbeat. "FBI!"
The room swirled with men in SWAT gear, guns drawn.
Barry reached for the gun, but they grabbed him first, yanking his arms behind his back.
Samantha lay on the ground motionless, in shock.
One of the bible salesmen grabbed her from the ground, guiding her to her feet and helped her out of her ex's home, outside into the bright blinding light. She squinted, the sun bold and warm. Her body shivered, adrenaline pumping through her veins.
"I'm Agent Bishop with the FBI," the bible salesman said.
Samantha wanted to respond but found it far too difficult to speak. Her legs buckled and he caught her in his arms. "We need an ambulance!" he shouted.
Within seconds she felt the weight of a board beneath her back and was being strapped on. Her eyes were heavy like lead, her limbs weak as she trembled on a gurney, feeling them lift her into the bay of the ambulance.
"Samantha!" Jackson's voice echoed from outside.
"She's heading to the hospital to be checked out," the EMT told Jackson.
"I'm riding with her," Jackson said, attempting to climb into the back of the ambulance.
"There's no room, Sir." Samantha hadn't said anything indicating that she wanted him to accompany her or not. She remained silent, her eyes open, blinking, her body heavy, her heart broken all over again.
Chapter 11
He rushed off the plane, Harper in toe as he'd received a message from Jackson that they'd found Samantha and she was in the hospital. His heart was in his throat the entire ride to the hospital.
Tearing down corridors he headed for the emergency room department where she'd been brought in not too long ago.
Jackson stepped out from the room, gesturing for Martin to speak with him alone, where Samantha wouldn't hear.
"How is she?" he asked, glancing through the window at her. Her head had a bump and a bruise was evident around her forehead, but he was worried about the scars he couldn't see.
"She hasn't been responsive. I mean physically she's fine. Her vitals, lab work, everything is okay. It's like she's catatonic except there's no plausible explanation other than she's in shock," Jackson said. "I tried sitting with her, holding her hand, talking to her, but she just stares at the ceiling as if I'm not there."
Martin exhaled a heavy sigh. That wasn't what he wanted to hear. He swallowed back the pain he felt and gave a curt nod. "Appreciated." He walked past Jackson and into her room, coming toward her bedside.
Her eyes were closed. Was she asleep or just ignoring everything? Jackson had made it sound like she'd been awake but maybe she'd dozed off. It had to have been exhausting what she'd experienced.
"Hey, Samantha. It's me, Martin." His voice was soft and gentle as he tried not to startle her. He reached for her hand, her fingers cool and clammy as she took her hand in his and tried to warm her up.
She stirred, moaning under her breath. Her eyes slowly opened.
"Hey, there." Martin smiled, staring down at her, hoping she'd come to. "I was worried about you." That was the understatement of the century. His heart hadn't stopped pounding wildly since the moment he knew she was in danger. His stomach still felt tangled in knots and as though he might puke. Seeing her eyes open, feeling her hand in his, it was helping calm him too.
She stared at the ceiling, looking past him, practically through him as she lay there motionless.
Martin sighed. Could it have been the head trauma that caused her to behave in such a manner? He headed out of the room to speak with the doctors. They all assured him that the tests and scans they ran showed no damage to her brain.
He pulled up a chair, staying at her bedside. He held her hand and stroked her hair. Leaning in he placed a soft chaste kiss on her cheek. "Wake up, sleeping beauty." Martin whispered.
Her head turned on the pillow to face him. "Martin," she rasped, her throat dry.
His eyes widened and he scooted closer, throwing his arms around her to embrace her. "I was so worried about you, Samantha."
She groaned as she began to come to, reaching up toward the bump on her head.
Martin stopped her hand from touching the bandage. His thumb stroked the back of her hand, bringing her palm back down to the bed.
"You're really here," she whispered, staring at him.
"Where else would I be? New York can wait. You're far more important to me than anything else in the world, Samantha."
The corners of her lips curved slightly upwards. "What about our divorce?"
Martin frowned, taken aback by her question. Maybe he should have the doctor reexamine her. "What are you talking about?"
She rubbed at her dry and tired eyes. "Barry said he released the documents to the press." Samantha yawned and tried to sit up. "One of the papers was our divorce settlement. Barry told me it was effective tonight. That's why he took me. For the money going into my account."
"Oh," Martin hadn't even thought about those papers. "They can't go into effect unless we take them to the courthouse and file for divorce. Which I don't have an intention of doing. I plan on ripping the papers up."
"Good," she sighed. Was she relieved or just exhausted?
Pleased that Samantha was released from the hospital, he drove her back to the ranch, where he intended them to stay for good. Her house wasn't safe, and he wasn't sure if he'd ever feel comfortable with being there ever again. At least at the ranch they had their own security, including Jackson on the property outside.
"We're selling your house, first thing Monday," Martin said as he led her inside the ranch.
Samantha whined under her breath.
"What was that?" he asked, challenging her to speak up.
"I don't want to sell my place."
"Why not?" Martin asked. "What purpose does keeping your old place have if we're married and living here together?" He didn't even bring up the obvious fact about the damage done to the outside of the property, the vandalism that he had to call and have cleaned up and removed. He also hired security to keep watch over her place. It wasn't that he didn't have the money; he owned several properties, but he didn't see the purpose of keeping her old home.
"You have your bachelor pad back in New York," Samantha chided. "Why can't I keep my place? I could use it as a working office, someplace I can go when I need a vacation."
"You're serious?" he asked, staring at her bewildered. Pulling up in the driveway, he shut off the car and stepped out, coming around to the passenger side to help her from the car.
"As serious as you are about keeping your house in the city," Samantha said. She folded her arms against her chest, a protective stance he'd seen her do on more than one occasion.
Martin led her inside the house, his hand at the small of her back guiding her inside, making sure she was steady on her feet. The doctor warned that she might experience some mild dizziness for the next few days after the bump she had to her head. "How are you feeling?" Helping her to the sofa, he fluffed the pillows for her to sit down.
