Worth Any Price Read online

  However, she was definitely a beauty and he knew that any man with testosterone running in his veins would gladly step into his place. It was only natural for him to think ahead and prepare his mind and body for the upcoming assignment. As difficult a situation as this was, he couldn’t help but think of her as a woman, a lovely, soft woman. Just think, tonight, I’m going to have my lips and mouth wrapped around Laura Wyndham’s snatch, savoring the musky smell of her, inhaling her special woman’s essence. He slapped his cheek, hard. He had to curb these thoughts. They were piling up and bumping into each other in his brain, one graphic image of her after the other. Like flip cards in a bawdy deck of cards, his imagination was filling in all the places he would soon be touching and tasting.

  All day he’d managed to avoid prurient thoughts like this because of the seriousness of the kidnapping, but they couldn’t be held back; the male animal in him was awakened and heightened by the thought of Laura, naked in front of him. And even though there would be no emotional attachment involved in their coupling, he couldn’t help but be excited and aroused even as he was a touch apprehensive.

  Man oh man! If the guys only knew! Then a sobering thought occurred to him. They surely would know. Once Kayla was returned the case would be fully workable. All the evidence would be collected and examined. The investigation would turn up the kidnap note, it would have to—he was leading the investigation. And no matter how hard he tried to keep this matter private, he knew it would soon be a part of the public record, possibly even reported by the press. The public would want to know, in their sick, curiosity-filled minds, what the pristine Laura Wyndham had had to do to get her child back. They already knew of the others and what they’d had to do.

  His mind flitted back two days to when he had actually met her after so many years of watching her walking down high school corridors and ogling her at school events. The last decade, like many of her classmates, he’d kept track of her only through the media.

  The picture of a regal topless enchantress warred with the vision of the docile and polite woman daubing at the smudges of fingerprint ink on her fingertips as she had apologized for shoplifting the bras. She had been so contrite and so polite, apologizing over and over for her actions. Her attorney had been in the courthouse on another case and within minutes he had arrived and arranged for her release. He had made her stop talking and had quickly escorted her out a back door well before the press could line up on the front steps. And it hadn’t clicked. The incongruity of it all still hadn’t clicked in his detective’s mind. Where had that special sixth sense he prided himself on having gone? Why hadn’t he put it all together then?

  Laura, Laura, why did this have to happen to you? You are such a sweet lady, and so damned beautiful.

  He alternated between being thrilled that he would see the breasts the elite of Wilmington had viewed just the night before, and horrified that she’d have to bare them against her will again. The idea that he would soon be touching and caressing them hardened him, but then just as quickly, he remembered the reason why he was being placed in that position, and he replaced his lustful desires with an angry passion.

  How had this monster managed to get to a woman such as Laura? He almost envied the control The Voyeur had at this moment over the woman he admired so much. But as the image of a sick pervert leering at Laura’s naked body grew in his mind, he vowed he would catch him. This was one son-of-a-bitch that was going into the North Carolina penal system and never coming out. He envisioned himself pummeling a faceless man until there was nothing left but a bony skull. He grabbed his coffee cup from the counter and took a long swig.

  Then the image of Laura’s finely sculpted face floated in front of him and he envisioned himself tasting her lips with his. Other places his lips would wander came to mind and he wondered how he’d react when everyone he worked with knew where his lips had been, where his tongue, and yes, even where his penis had been, all in the line of duty of course. The duty that just might get him fired. He was going against police procedure. He wasn’t even sure how many official rules he was breaking. Insubordination for one—after getting a break on a case like this, he should definitely be telling someone higher up in the chain of command. But he just couldn’t risk it right now, there just wasn’t enough time to get a team in place. He wouldn’t even be sending any officers to Laura’s house tonight in the event the killer returned Kayla to the house—he simply wasn’t going to take the chance. Laura would never forgive him if something went wrong. He’d never forgive himself. He’d deal with the repercussions as they came; certainly no one could fault him for stepping in. A quick smile spread over his face before he could stop it. Yeah, no one, certainly no one he knew on the force.

  Being videotaped was the part that quirked all this. Should it become known, he had no idea how the department would handle this kind of thing. He wouldn’t exactly be doing anything illegal, but they had pretty strong ethics and moral codes in place for their officers in the South, and he was sure that making your own porn, regardless of the circumstances, would be highly frowned upon. But he wasn’t a rookie. He was a highly trained, multi-commended master detective. He figured the worst they could do was suspend him without pay, unless of course things got really hinky, and the child died. That would be a whole other scenario, and with the pull of her family in this community, he’d be out on his ass.

  How the hell would Laura handle all this? How would she face her family, her friends and the press? Thankfully, it would be years before her daughter would know what her mother had sacrificed for her. How she had put the life of her child before everything. Just how the hell was Laura going to deal with this, he wondered.

  Raised as a woman of privilege, Laura was confident and trained in the social graces. Anyone desiring her attentions would have to treat her with respect; would have to show her ladylike care, be unceasingly gentle and proper. Except that now this monster had her attention, and he was treating her like . . . like he owned her, like she was his. The blood in Kel’s veins came quickly to a boil and the rage behind his eyes was almost palpable. He didn’t like having these feelings. The intense anger warped his thinking. He had to calm down. He closed his eyes and tried to envision Laura smiling and holding her daughter tightly in her arms. It was not hard for him to imagine the scenario, he’d seen it in print. And now he was determined to make it a reality again, he was determined to help her get her child back.

  During such a crucial time in her life, Kel was proud to be the one offering assistance to Laura Wyndham—honored to be the one coming to her rescue. She was handling herself regally despite having to whore herself for the despicable excuse of humanity who had stolen her child.

  Kel, like most of the boys in high school, had always felt he was light years out of Laura’s league, and had only admired her from afar. For whatever reason, she had never seemed approachable, and the boys he knew, like him, just drooled over her pictures and fought for a spot on a curb whenever she was in the Azalea Festival Parade. Over the years he had seen her picture appear in The Wilmington Star News on the society pages at least a hundred times. First, as she posed in sweet cotillion dresses, then later in sophisticated prom dresses, and finally in an elegant wedding gown. Even after her marriage to Ryan Vardella, the up-and-coming state representative had failed, she still made the local section, decked out in regal refinery for one charity event after another. That Kel knew so much about her life was no oddity; she was a well-known public figure in Wilmington that he, along with many others, respected and admired. Being from a wealthy family made her prominent, being poised and unaffected by it, made her popular.

  He was whimsically amused that over the years he’d conjured up an image of her as some sort of fairy tale princess. And now, the sweet, lovely young princess was in trouble. She needed rescuing from the tower, where an ugly ogre had her cornered, and he desperately wanted to kick t
hat ogre to kingdom come and back.

  Idly he stroked his bare chest, casually examining his torso in the mirror. He scratched at the fur pelt generously sprinkled on his pecs. He had a big body. His tall, muscled frame with wide, full shoulders could easily shield Laura’s diminutive body from the camera. He could lay on top of her, wrap his arms around her and plunge deeply into her without revealing anything of her secret womanly parts. But even the possibility of allowing her that small modicum of modesty had been taken away from her. The Voyeur’s explicit instructions called for her blatant defiling. The bastard wanted to view her. That’s how he got his jollies; controlling women and making them humiliate themselves for him. What kind of man got off watching a woman being taken by a man when it wasn’t her will?

  As soon as he found a free minute, he was going to call the profiler in New York City who was already working up a report for him. The man was renowned for breaking down the inner sadistic tendencies of rapists and serial killers into likely physical and emotional characteristics. He needed all the help he could get to capture this vile creature; this filthy vermin whose leering, lusty eyes would soon have his fill of one of the most gracious women Kel had ever known. He would get in touch with his friend tomorrow and find out more about this creature who all but wanted Laura publicly raped.

  Good God, rape. Was that what he was about to do? Rape Laura Wyndham? He fisted both hands and pounded them brutally on his hard thighs. Yes, that was exactly what this was going to be—rape. He would be taking her by force, against her will. Sure, he wasn’t the one commanding the act, but he would be the one taking her, using his flesh as a weapon to torture and dishonor her. So, now he was a rapist by proxy. Wonderful. Just fucking wonderful. A lifetime of upholding the law only to break it in the most profound and demeaning way possible. He looked down at the hair curling at the juncture of his thighs. Then why the hell was he as hard as an anvil? The strength of his erection scared him; it was so rigid he felt he could balance a hammer on it. Dear God, I hope I don’t have any tendencies for enjoying manhandling a woman; especially a woman like Laura—as gentle as Laura. He felt a sticky wetness oozing from the tip of his penis. Shit. Usually he loved his work, but not this way.

  Chapter Three

  Laura forced her red-rimmed eyes to look up. She had been clutching the edge of the sink so tightly that her knuckles were white. She took stock of herself in the mirror and quickly covered her face with her hands. How was she going to get through this? Her hands fisted in her hair, the curls tight and damp from her shower. I can’t do this. I just can’t do this!

  Then she thought of Kayla, her dear sweet Kayla, and realized that she had no choice. She had to do it. She reached for her brush and roughly ran it through her hair and the knots in it until her burning scalp rebelled. Then she threw the brush as hard as she could at the mirror.

  It surprised her that it didn’t break. Get hold of yourself. You are the only one who can get her back. Just get through it! See the end result, not the means.

  She picked up the brush and ran it slowly through her hair. She didn’t have the energy to do anything with it, so she just let it fall over her shoulders. Normally she wore her long hair back from her face, usually in a fancy chignon or French-braided twists. Now gathered at the crown and loose, it fell in waves, randomly parting itself on the left side. She didn’t look at all like herself. Her face had a haunted look. Her normally pale, translucent skin was allowing faint purple shadows to show under her red eyes. Her high cheekbones, the apples normally accented by a natural blush, now looked sallow from her despair. The twinkle was gone from her azure eyes, the window to her soul was now a dull, flat, vacant wasteland. There was hope, deep, deep inside, but you couldn’t see it—she was afraid to let it show.

  With luck, maybe no one would know who she was. Except of course, Detective Kel Vain. He’d certainly know who she was. Hell in a few hours, he’d know more about her than anyone, save her ex-husband. Well, that wasn’t entirely true, she thought; Kel would know more. He would know what it was like to taste her in her most feminine folds. Putting his mouth down there was something her husband had loathed doing. On their honeymoon, he tried it once, but his obvious discomfort unsettled her. He kept gagging on hair and then complained about it so much that it ruined the whole mood of their lovemaking. It was an experience neither had found enjoyable, so it had never been repeated. Yet he had insisted she service him in that intimate manner. Until the night she had walked into his office and found his aide-de-camp kneeling at his feet taking over the chore for her. The man hadn’t thought her strong enough to withstand the public humiliation of a divorce. Well, he had been wrong hadn’t he? Good God, talk about public humiliation. The divorce had been a cakewalk compared to what last night’s repercussions were going to be for her.

  The thought almost caused her knees to buckle. She forced herself to stand tall and to hold her head up as her mother had always taught her. Her mother. She was going to have a fit. Tonight her daughter was going to become a prostitute. Tonight, Laura would sell her body. Not for money, mind you, but for the life of her own daughter. That was the only thought that kept her going as she reached for deodorant, then powders and creams. When she lifted the can of feminine hygiene spray, she burst out with hysterical laughter. Would the good detective prefer Strawberry Spring or Gardenia Blossoms?

  She was the type of woman who usually knew a lot about a man before even letting him venture a kiss. She put the can back on the counter. She’d better not use either; the man could be allergic to fragrance for all she knew. Besides, how bad could she get in an hour or two even sweating from every pore as she battled fear and embarrassment? God, what if he didn’t even like cunnilingus? The thought that he might find both her and the act as disgusting as her husband had, caused her to shiver.

  Then she thought of the man holding her little girl and she didn’t really care about the detective’s preferences. Her fists clenched so tightly into her palms that her nails created half moons in them. When this was over they were going to get him. She didn’t care if it took every last penny she had, she wanted to see this man die for what he was doing to her. Doing to her daughter. She knew that somewhere her daughter was bound, gagged, and blindfolded with duct tape, that she wouldn’t be given anything to eat or drink, and that in all likelihood she was soaked to the skin in her own urine. That had been the pattern, the press had covered that part pretty thoroughly each time a child had been discovered. The kidnapper was very consistent in how he treated the children. He apparently neglected and ignored them the whole time he had them. The uncompassionate bastard! She sobbed as she thought about Kayla and how badly she was being treated. Her baby was hungry and scared and not able to even call out for her mommy. The tears flowed from her eyes and she had to hurry and blot them before she had to redo her makeup, again. But she couldn’t stem the flow, she just couldn’t seem to stop crying, she hurt so much.

  She collapsed onto the bathroom throw rug and said a prayer. God, please give Detective Vain the strength to do what he must to bring my baby home, safe and unharmed. I promise if you can get us through this, I’ll do everything in my power to keep this evil monster from ever doing this again.

  After pulling herself back to her feet, Laura repaired the damage then gave great thought to dressing. She selected her lingerie very carefully with ease of removal in mind. A front-opening bra would allow her breasts to be bared, while she still kept it on; a skirt would make it unnecessary to remove all her clothing. A blouse would allow her to cover herself quickly once the requirements were met. She didn’t bother with hose or stockings and opted for bikini underpants instead of the thong type that she usually wore. When she was as happy with her appearance as she could be, given the circumstances, she grabbed a sweater and her purse and went down to the garage.

  As she passed by the phone she wished for just a moment that she could call
her mother. But nobody could know, especially her mother. It would only make things harder for them all. And her father, almost as emotional, would insist on getting the authorities involved, and he would be furious that she hadn’t already. The fact that they were away at their house in Italy was fortuitous. But certainly, after last night’s stunt, there would be a lot of questions to answer. As soon as they got back she’d find out how supportive they truly were. Up until now, they had been ideal parents. This would be a true test for her family. And her brother . . . Lord, when he got wind of this he’d have what her mother used to call a “conniption fit.” He was always overly concerned with appearances.

  The message light was blinking on the phone. Since last night’s debacle many people had phoned—the curious, the concerned, the shocked, and the indignant. She pushed the button to see how many messages were stored. Last night at midnight, there had been forty-two. The red L.E.D. number flashed—eighty-six. Among them, she was sure, were several heated ones from her ex. She knew he still had ties to Wilmington, and surely the phone lines had buzzed way into the night with the news of his ex-wife’s shocking behavior. Knowing him, he would have used a few choice words to describe her despicable display, accused her of being drunk out of her mind, and then he would have expounded on the fact that he didn’t need this kind of publicity during an election year. The only thing he wouldn’t mention is her being an unfit mother, because he certainly didn’t want Kayla thrust into his life; he’d leave well enough alone on that score.