Page 116 of Branded

He pulls out a phone. “Yeah, she’s up. You want me to… Yeah, okay. I’ll wait.”

He hangs up and leans against the wall, watching me with detached interest.

“Where am I?” My voice comes out rough, throat raw from screaming or the chemicals or both.

“Don’t worry about that, your husband knows we’ve got you, just not where. We sent him a nice little video of us loading you into the SUV. He’ll be losing his ever-loving shit right about now.”

Sebastian knows. He’ll come for me. Or at least, he’ll try.

“What do you want?”

“Not my call, boss decides that.” He checks his phone. “He should be here soon.” Footsteps on the stairs. Heavy, measured. Thomas Marshall appears wearing a black Stetson tipped stupidly on his head like he’s a bad guy in an old western movie, and spurs on his boots that jingle every time he takes a step. All we’re missing is a tumbleweed rolling through and an ominous whistle. It’s ridiculous, and I bite the corner of my mouth to keep from screaming.

But his focused expression reminds me uncomfortably of my own father when he’s dealing with “problems.”

“Mrs. Drake.” He moves across the room, his thumbs hooked into his pockets, taking his time. “Sorry about the accommodations. Not exactly the luxury you’re used to at your husband’s place.” He stops in front of me, and Thomas Marshall, the man who confronted Sebastian in town all those weeks ago, is now looming over me.

“What do you want?”

“Straight to business. I like that.” He pulls the metal chair over and takes a seat.

“What I want is simple: I want Sebastian Drake to understand that he doesn’t control everything.”

“So this is about your pride?”

“This is about respect,” he yells, his voice ringing off the bare concrete walls. “Power. The things that actually matter out here.” Thomas leans forward. “See, I can brush off the fact that you tried to kill one of my men, I’m not concerned with you. Your husband, on the other hand, thought he could embarrass me. Steal my land, make me look like an old fool who can’t get business deals done. But see, Mrs. Drake, I’ve got something he can’t buy. Can’t control, or replace.”

“Me,” I whisper.

“You.” His smile is cold. “And now we’re going to find out exactly what you’re worth to him. Whether he’s willing to give me what I want to get you back. Or whether you’re just another possession he’ll write off as a loss.”

“He’ll come for me.”

“Will he?” Thomas tilts his head. “Because from what I understand, you’re not exactly his wife by choice. More like an acquisition, no better than a land deal. Is that right?”

My blood goes cold. “I don’t know what you’re talking about.”

“Don’t you? Because I’ve got records. Photos. Testimony from people who were there. Your husband paid two million dollars for you. Literally bought you like a prize heifer.” Thomas’s expression is satisfied. “That’s quite the scandal if it gets out. Human trafficking, illegal contracts, all sorts of interesting legal problems.”

“You have no proof.”

“I have enough.” He stands. “But here’s the thing. I don’t necessarily want to destroy you both. I just want what’s owed to me.”

“Which is?”

“My land. Specifically, the south pastures that border our properties. About five thousand acres that your husband stole out from under me.” Thomas moves toward the stairs. “So here’s the deal. Sebastian signs over that land, gives me what should have been mine all along, and you go home safe and sound. Nobody has to know about the auction, or the attempted murder. Everybody wins.”

“And if he doesn’t?”

“Then I release everything I know. The media loves a good scandal. Rich hotelier and rancher buying a wife at an underground auction? That’ll play for weeks. His reputation destroyed, his family humiliated, legal investigations that’ll tie you both up for years.” Thomas pauses on the stairs. “Oh, and you’ll stay here. Indefinitely. Until he changes his mind.”

“That’s kidnapping.”

“That’s negotiation. You’re not hurt. You’re fed. You’re just detained. Until your husband makes the right choice.” He continues up the stairs. “Think about it, Mrs. Drake. Five thousand acres versus your freedom and your secrets. Seems like an easy call to me.”

The door at the top of the stairs closes. I hear a lock turn. Then silence.

I’m alone in a basement God knows where, bound and helpless, while Sebastian decides whether I’m worth five thousand acres of prime ranch land.