The Baby Contract (The Billionaire Bachelor Series) (21 page)

His mother leaned back in her chair, a slight frown on her face. “And do you think now, upon reflection, you should’ve taken such a matter up with her first?”

Upon reflection, of course he should have, but saying so out loud was too much. He only stared harder at the floor, studying the floral patterns in the rug.

“I believe you owe Miss Haden an apology, don’t you think?” his mother said in his silence.

“Mom, I obviously have no idea how to make amends with a woman like Abigail. Buying the ranch was an apology for a fight we’d had earlier.”

“There’s always a way to make things right, Liam, and they don’t always involve money. In my heart, I believe you know other ways.”

No, Liam could honestly say, he had no idea what to do. The ignorance was frightening. When they’d made love after she’d confronted him, he’d been frightened then too, because they had
made love
. It hadn’t been sex, not for him. In their union he’d lost the fragile walls around his heart shielding him from Abigail. And when she’d walked out of his office, and his life, nothing had ever torn into him as painfully.

“Not this time, Mom. There is no repairing what’s happened between the two of us.”

Saying it out loud brought a choking ball of emotion into his throat, and he blinked. He wasn’t a man who cried. He hadn’t shed a tear in years, not even during his father’s funeral. He rubbed the heel of his palms over his burning eyes, and left his face buried there.

“Liam, my boy, I have something important to tell you.”

He dared not look at his mother until he had gained some control.

“Before your father died, he came to see me,” she continued. “I believe he felt his time was near and there had been so much left unsaid between the two of us. One of the things we talked about was you, Liam. What he wanted for you. Yes, your father was a driven man and he wanted a son who’d emulate him. He’d also come to realize that you would never be exactly like him. Liam senior feared you’d never be able to cope with the pressures of Whitmore Incorporated and it’d break you. He knew you were someone who would need another at his side to offer support.”

His mother paused to sip her hot tea. Liam looked up, not sure what to make of her declaration. His father believed that he was weak? Renewed contempt built within him until he had its bitter taste on his tongue.

“I had no idea what my husband had planned for you.” She placed the tea cup aside. “Until Abigail came to me with news she was pregnant with your child. I believe the change in his will was a way to assure you wouldn’t try to live a lonely life. One that you’ve never been cut out for and your father knew it. He did love you, in his own way, and he did what he believed best in the end.”

Liam sat up straight. “I am perfectly content being a bachelor.”

His mother smiled. “Is that so? Then why are you so concerned with what Abigail thinks of you? You’ve never been able to hide your feelings from me, Liam. I know you care deeply about this girl, and there’s no shame in it. Don’t believe for even a moment there could be shame in loving another person.”

He considered his mother’s words, overwhelmed that his father had ever had a moment of empathy for him or a shadow of love. He’d never once shown any sort of affection outside of a handshake or slap on the back, and the idea of fatherly love seemed too alien to comprehend. Liam had spent his entire life with a distant father who cared only for his company. That was the man he knew, and he wasn’t sure if he would ever comprehend another version.

And what of Abigail? Those words weighed heaviest. No, there wasn’t any shame in loving her. It wasn’t a weakness he needed to suppress. God, even his father had known him better than he’d known himself. Liam senior had seen through the man his son had tried so hard to be. Yes, he wanted a partner in life—a woman to share his triumphs with and to lessen the pains of failure. Liam
wasn’t
cut out for a lifetime of lonely nights and empty flings.

He had to go to Abigail, and hope that he could win her over. Tonight he’d pour his heart out to her, and lay his entire life on the line. What he desired was the two of them together with their child. He wanted her to move in with him. He wanted to find time for soccer games and ballet recitals. He wanted so many things he couldn’t begin to name, but they all rested on how Abigail felt about him. The crux of his doubts.

“I don’t know, Mom. What if…” Liam swallowed, feeling like an insecure young boy again. “What if she doesn’t share my feelings? What if I screw it all up again?”

His mother’s gentle smile warmed the cold place inside his chest. “What ifs mean nothing, my boy. What ifs only get in the way of the things we truly need. Go to Abigail, tell her what’s on your mind. I believe once you’ve opened that line of communication with her, you’ll be surprised with what she has to say. It’ll all come out in the wash.”

Liam felt terrified as he kissed his mother’s cheek and wished her goodnight. Their conversation had carried on much later than he intended and she looked tired as he left her home. Outside, a chilled northern breeze rushed by, a tease of cooler weather to come. Yet, as he stood beneath the waning moon, a bad feeling settled in his gut. He shook it off as he climbed in his car. His cellphone buzzed with an incoming text. It was from Abigail. He fumbled with his phone as he pulled it up.

He sucked in a sharp breath as he read her message, and every single plan he’d just made withered and evaporated. Confused, he read then reread it.

I’ve had a change of heart, and I don’t want to see you again. Goodbye, Liam.

* * * *

“I don’t know what Richard has told you, but I don’t want the woman killed.” Spencer stared up at the massive man whose shadow swallowed him in the vacant parking lot. He glanced around nervously, fearing they might be accidentally overheard. The abandoned part of the city had few inhabitants, except for drunken winos, this late at night. “I have every intention of reasoning with her first.”

The massive man grunted, and Spencer wasn’t sure if it was in agreement. A nameless oaf Richard had hired to make their problems go away, and it’d fallen on Spencer’s shoulders to make sure the plan was carried out.
God damn him and Martin.
Leaving Spencer to do the dirty work wasn’t simply a matter of convenience for them, he knew beyond a hint of doubt that if things went south all fingers would point to Spencer Davidson. CFO of Whitmore Incorporated, and the man with everything to lose. He had motive—losing Whitmore.

Spencer couldn’t believe how far things had been taken. If he’d known Richard and Martin would stoop to murder to get what they wanted… He shook his head. He was swimming in this fuck up with no land in sight. If he didn’t go through with it, his neck was on the line. Spencer wasn’t a man who could survive prison time. The East Coast was no longer an option; once he sold Whitmore he’d make for Europe and find a country which didn’t have extradition to the US for criminals.

He hated that he’d become a puppet for KayBona and realized how much he’d been manipulated by Richard. Bitterness filled him, mixing with self-pity—an internal agony that he dwelled in. He would fix things...he had to.

“I’ll give you the woman’s address. Go inside, grab her, then bring her to our meeting spot. Got it?”

He wrote down Abigail Haden’s address and handed it to the oaf, hating the way his hand trembled as he did so. The man grunted again, balled the paper up, and pitched it on the ground, his perpetual sneer hardening. He lumbered off toward his vehicle, a silver Subaru that looked much too ‘soccer mom’ for a convicted felon for hire. Spencer could only assume the man already knew Abigail’s address.

Spencer walked to his Mercedes, not feeling the least bit better about things. While he didn’t want to be involved in a murder plot, he also didn’t want his ass handed to him by Richard and Martin. Self-preservation was a powerful emotion, and one he definitely abided by first.

Guilt would fade with time, he decided, especially since he’d do everything he could to keep Abigail alive.
If
she agreed to his deal. And if she didn’t...well, what options did he have?

Like Richard had said, everyone had their price. If the nurse valued her life she’d jump at his offer—ten grand and a plane ticket. Not much cash to get back on her feet, but Spencer would make sure she saw just how dire her circumstances were. He was good at making others come around to his way of thinking.

Austin had more life as he turned onto Congress Avenue, but as he left the city minutes later, the nighttime closed in around him. Dark, foreboding, and Spencer couldn’t quell his fear of what may come.

Chapter 24

Abby awoke and blinked into the darkness. Her ears strained in the quiet. She felt sure a noise had brought her out of sleep.
Maybe a neighbor’s car door?
Unease crept through her and she sat up, the hairs on her arms prickling. Her home was silent save for the gurgle of her fish aquarium in the next room. Yet, instinct set her on alert as she held her breath, waiting, though for what she couldn’t be sure. Long seconds passed, until Abby smiled, feeling silly. She must’ve been having a nightmare, she reasoned.

A shifting of shadows beyond her open bedroom and toward the back door caught her attention. Abby caught her bottom lip between her teeth as her heart rate kicked up. It had to be her imagination. The shadow shifted again, and her eyes adjusted enough she could see the silhouette of a person.

It wasn’t a dream.

Oh my God.

Someone was in her home. Her cellphone was in the kitchen charging.
Out the bedroom window? Hide under the bed?
Options tumbled one over another, and she couldn’t pin one down long enough to act.

The huge silhouette moved through the home until it was outlined in her bedroom doorway. Adrenaline surged, but disbelief kept a scream at bay, leaving her frozen in place as a small penlight trained on her face. Fight-or-flight was useless when she was tucked into the false security of her own bed. Abby sat dumbly, blinking at the bright light shining in her eyes.

The figure surged forward and a heavy weight slammed her into the mattress. A hand closed over her mouth, muffling her cry. Abby fought with everything she was worth, flailing and kicking as she was dragged from her bed and through her home. Things fell over and something shattered on the floor as she was dragged toward her back door. The hand on her face restricted her breathing, and her lungs screamed for air. She clawed at the gloved hand until her head swam from lack of oxygen.
Fight, fight, fight
, instinct demanded, but she had nothing left as they left through her back door. When the cool night air hit her, Abby passed out cold.

When she came to she was in a tomb of darkness, her hands and feet bound, and a gag stuffed in her mouth. She struggled, kicking out, finding herself closed in on all sides to where she couldn’t even stretch her legs. The strong odor of gasoline and motor oil hit her; she must be in a car trunk. She fought down panic and claustrophobia. Voices carried to her from just outside and she stilled. She held her breath, listening.

“What the hell did you bring her here for!” a male’s voice boomed.

“I had hoped to reason with her. If we give her enough money I’m sure she’ll keep her mouth shut and leave the damn country. You can give me at least that much for putting me in this position.”

Both men sounded familiar, and Abby tried to place them. Their voices were muffled from inside her enclosure, making them hard to distinguish.

“No, Spencer, don’t be ridiculous. If you’d finished the job and had her killed, the plan would’ve fallen into place. She’d be in a shallow grave and out of our hair. I’ve already texted Liam from her phone. He’ll think she’s left for God knows where with an assload of money from some mystery source. I’ve already given him enough suspicion that she wasn’t the shining flower he thought she was thanks to planting her necklace at my office.”

Spencer Davidson?
Abby blinked in the darkness. Why the hell did Spencer Davidson kidnap her? And they wanted her dead? Why? Her brain worked over the question quickly. Liam had to provide an heir to his company. She was providing his heir, was that their motive? What the hell had Liam neglected to tell her?

“I can’t do this, Richard. I won’t…kill someone. This is going too far,” Spencer continued.

“We’ve come too far, and there’s no going back. Do what you have to do, but I expect this to be carried through.”

“You don’t think the cops will know where to go when they find her missing? If Liam found her necklace inside your office, he’ll point fingers at you,” Spencer said, sounding determined to point out the soft spot in Richard’s plan. Abby pleaded silently that he’d be successful.

“And you think a few cops could ever touch a company the size of KayBona? Like I said before, a few dropped words to a certain congressman and we’ll never hear another word of it.”

The men’s voices moved away, still in conversation. Abby lay still, creating then discarding plans for escape. As long as she remained locked inside, they were all useless. The trunk was empty save for her and the tarp she lay on. No tire iron, and not even a flashlight she could use as a weapon.

She rolled over and made an awkward search for the pull in the trunk. All new cars had them just in case someone got trapped inside. She couldn’t find it.
Damn it.
The tape around her wrist gave her wiggle room and she worked at it, trying to get it to loosened enough to get free. Sweat trickled into her eyes. Her prison was stifling. She worried about the air supply. Could a person suffocate in a car trunk? Panic welled up, but Abby braced against it.
Keep it together for the baby.

Spencer spoke from nearby. “Take her inside. I’ll decide what to do later.”

She heard a click then light flooded her little tomb. She squinted and squirmed back as hands reached for her and hauled her out of the car trunk. The gag muffled her scream, and she struggled as best she could as the huge man that’d kidnapped her flung her over his shoulder. She was carried inside a dingy mobile home and deposited in a closet. The door was pulled shut, throwing her into blackness again. The place reeked of mouse pee and stale cigarette smoke.