Ransom (Benson Security Book 4) Read online

  The man had skin the colour of warm caramel, cheekbones sharp enough to cut paper and hair that was so inky black it was almost blue. His nose had been broken at some point and hadn’t set properly. It was a crooked line on a face made up of angled planes.

  A white scar cut through his left eyebrow and another curved round his jaw. Thick black lashes outlined exotic almond-shaped eyes with the palest grey irises she’d ever seen. They were hard eyes that betrayed a man who didn’t trust easily. Eyes that dared you to challenge him. Eyes that seemed to see through the polite veneer of the world around him straight to the dirt that lay beneath.

  No, there was nothing pretty about John Garcia. He was a barbarian dressed in a tailored shirt and five-thousand-dollar watch—an incongruity on a man that had instantly fascinated her with his presence. He’d dominated the room when she was introduced to him earlier that day, after he’d arrived late to the week-long party. His arrival had blown every other man in the room out of the water for Belinda. Yet when he’d looked at her, she’d seen nothing but dismissal in his eyes. He was one of those men. The ones who thought she was useless because she spent her life pretending.

  Which made it all the more humiliating that she’d ended up in bed with the man. “Please tell me we didn’t sleep together?” she said, without thinking it over first—a flaw she had.

  His eyes went flat. Like a shark. “Don’t worry, Hollywood. You didn’t lower your standards that far. We’ve been kidnapped.”

  Belinda felt her face flush as his words stung. Either the guy had a chip the size of California on his shoulder, or she’d said something to offend him when she’d been out of it. Oh, she hoped she hadn’t been rude. She wasn’t usually… Wait—kidnapped? What the hell?

  “We’ve really been kidnapped? Taken? Like the movie? You mean this isn’t your room?”

  “You thought this dump was my room?” The jaw clenching was back.

  Belinda tore her eyes from his and looked around. They were in a shack. That was the only word for it. The walls were made of planks of untreated wood, haphazardly nailed together. Overhead, beyond the torn and grey mosquito net, was a straw roof. Beneath them was a stained mattress, on a bare dirt floor. It was as far away from a hotel room as they could get and still be indoors. It was a hovel.

  “No, I don’t think this is your room.” She looked back at him. “We’ve really been kidnapped? Both of us? Are you sure?”

  He gave her a terse nod, as though he was losing patience. But nothing he said made sense.

  “Why would they kidnap you?” she said. “I can understand why someone would kidnap me. I get lots of threats. It’s part of being in the public eye. But you’re…?”

  His jaw became even tighter than it had been before. At this rate, the guy was going to crack the bone. “I’m what?”

  Intense? Sexy? Broodingly male? Obviously, a bad-tempered dickhead? “You aren’t famous.”

  The tension in his jaw eased somewhat. “I saw them try to take you and I stepped in to stop it. It didn’t go as planned.”

  Now Belinda felt bad for thinking he was dickhead. “I need to sit up.” She put a hand on his chest to push him out of her way.

  It was a mistake. A jolt of pure electricity ran through her body as her surroundings disappeared. There was only her awareness of John. It was primal. Her body wanted his. Their chemistry was off the charts, which was not only embarrassing, but also dangerous. Getting physical with a man who barely tolerated her was a recipe for disaster. She snatched her hand away, feeling as though she’d been burned, and sat up. He backed away from her, and she noticed that his hands and feet were tied, but hers were free. It didn’t make sense. None of this did.

  “Are you sure this is a real kidnapping and not a fake one?” she asked.

  “Fake one?” He looked at her like she was several sandwiches short of a picnic. “This is real, Hollywood. Your driver set you up. That’s how this happened.”

  Now it really didn’t make sense. “No. Brian wouldn’t have done that. He’s been with me for years.”

  His face gave nothing away. “The guy opened the back door of the car for you. While you were smiling at him, someone drugged you and pulled you inside. I was the lucky bastard who stepped in to stop them and ended up going along for the ride.”

  She stared into his eyes, trying to read the truth in them. She knew subterfuge. She worked in an industry of liars. And John Garcia was telling the truth—or at least he believed he was, which meant he wasn’t in on it. Because Belinda was beginning to believe that her kidnapping was nothing more than an elaborate prank.

  “They drugged us. We’ve been out cold for hours,” John continued in that flat voice she hated, as though he could barely tolerate talking to her. “It’s three in the morning.”

  She watched him for a couple of minutes, but he didn’t even blink. He was definitely being pranked too. Nobody was that good an actor.

  “My brother and I talked about this a couple of months ago,” Belinda said. “There are security companies who arrange fake kidnappings to teach you how to act if a real one happens. I was going to attend a workshop before I took on a movie role where I played a kidnap victim, but I chickened out at the last minute. My brother thought I was a wimp and threatened to arrange to have me fake-kidnapped when I least expected it. He must have gone ahead with it and roped Brian in to help.”

  John’s eyes went wide, then narrowed to hard little slits. “Listen to me carefully. This is not a joke. It is not a training exercise. You really have been kidnapped.”

  She reached over and patted his arm, again feeling that strange, tingling awareness when she touched him. This time, she tried not to let it bother her and kept her hand in place.

  “I know you believe what you’re saying,” she said in her most soothing tone, “but think about it carefully. A fake kidnapping is the only logical conclusion. We were in a private resort, miles from anywhere. The resort has its own security staff. At least a third of the guests brought their own security teams to the wedding. On top of that, half the wedding guests work with Benson Security—one of the best security companies in the world. Do you really think, given all that information, that someone could waltz in and snatch us out from under their noses? Does that seem likely to you? I don’t think so. The only way it could have happened was if the people at the party were in on the kidnapping plot—ergo, fake kidnapping experience!”

  He seemed to be grinding his teeth together, so she gave him another pat. She’d bet her next paycheque that her brother had boasted about his plan to John’s friends and they’d jumped at the idea to include him. Probably because John was late getting to the party. Surely his friends would have known he couldn’t cope with this sort of joke. She was going to give them a serious talking to once this experience was over.

  “Don’t worry.” She patted him again. “I know what I’m doing. Just follow my lead. I don’t think they’re expecting expert level acting, anyway. In fact, we could totally ham this up. This is going to be fun.”

  John opened his mouth, no doubt to argue further, but the door to the hut slammed inwards. A man stepped into the room. He had a lean and hungry look about him that told her he could be cruel and enjoy it. He wore grey jeans and a pale blue dress shirt that had large, dark patches of sweat under the arms. Tucked into his belt was a large machete. In his right hand he held a revolver, and in his left, he held a large mobile phone. Overgrown, greasy hair had been swept back from his forehead, and calculating, beady eyes considered them.

  “Bueno, you’re awake. Now we talk business, no?”

  With a smile that chilled her to the bone, he walked towards them.

  Belinda stared at him in awe. Here was a man who really knew how to get into character. She could learn a lot from him. Maybe she’d get something out of being pranked after all.

  Chapter 3

  Beast had descended into the ninth circle of hell. Not only had he been kidnapped, but he was with a woman who di
dn’t believe it was happening. A woman who thought they’d have fun. They weren’t going to have fun. They were going to die. And he would bet that the asshole in front of him would be the one to pull the trigger.

  With bound hands, Beast grabbed Belinda and shoved her behind him.

  “Great improvising,” she whispered to him, making him growl.

  Their captor smirked at the move, thinking he was the one with the power. He didn’t know Beast. Even bound, hands and feet, he’d take the guy in a fight. The guns were a problem, though. Fists were no good against bullets.

  “Señorita Collins,” the kidnapper said.

  Beast didn’t like his tone. It made his skin crawl. This guy wanted Belinda. And not just for money.

  “And”—the kidnapper cocked his head at Beast—“it seems we have an extra guest. One who isn’t as famous as the beautiful señorita.”

  Beast didn’t answer. He wasn’t giving this guy anything if he could help it. Not even his name. Behind the kidnapper, two more men sauntered into the tiny room, and the tension amped right up. They were both armed with rifles. The two men stood either side of the door, ready to protect their leader. Or to kill the captives. With a knowing smile, the leader turned to the two men behind him and spoke in Spanish, a language Beast spoke fluently.

  “See how he protects her still? What a good dog!”

  Beast’s muscles went taut. But he didn’t move. He’d learned the hard way not to react, to bide his time before he struck his foe.

  “Señorita Collins, it is a pleasure to have you as our guest.” The leader’s eyes lazily scanned her body, lingering at her breasts and thighs. Yeah, the asshole definitely had plans for Belinda that didn’t involve making money from her.

  “Who are you? What do you want?” Belinda sounded terrified. Over-the-top terrified. The airhead was acting. Overacting, in an attempt to have some fun. Beast itched to shake some sense into her, but he didn’t move. He had to keep his eyes on the biggest threat in the room—the kidnapper.

  “What do I want?” The guy shared a laugh with his colleagues. “I want money.”

  He crouched down in front them. Beast noticed he made sure to keep out of reach of his feet. It said a lot about their kidnapper, that he realised Beast was dangerous to him, even while bound. Which made Beast even more worried. This was a man who knew violence, who assessed people quickly and wasn’t afraid of striking out. In fact, Beast suspected their kidnapper enjoyed making people suffer. He reeked of it. His eyes glowed when Belinda cowered. Yeah, he was definitely their biggest threat.

  The kidnapper held a phone out to Belinda. “I need you to call your very famous father and tell him that he must do as I instruct. If he doesn’t, I will feel the need to send his princess back to him in pieces.”

  His voice was calm, to the point where he could have been discussing the weather, not threatening an A-list actress. Beast felt Belinda still behind him and hoped reality was sinking in for her at last.

  “I know I should stay in character,” she said cheerily, “but I have to ask. I mean, you’re an amazing actor. Right up there with De Niro. You’ve even got me second-guessing things. This is a fake kidnapping, right? Not a real one?”

  If this were any other situation, and Beast’s life wasn’t on the line, he would have groaned. Belinda Collins didn’t think like normal people. She was in a world all of her own. One that was most likely populated with Disney princesses, rainbows and unicorns.

  The kidnapper looked stunned for a second and then burst out laughing. “She thinks this is fake. She thinks we’re all acting,” he told his men, who laughed heartily too.

  “Oh, señorita,” the guy said, “this is very much a real kidnapping. And as real kidnappers, we want our ransom.” He gave her a wide smile that didn’t touch his eyes.

  There was silence for a second as Belinda processed his answer. “Gotcha, you can’t break character. I should have known. You’re professionals.”

  “She still doesn’t believe me,” he told his men. “She thinks this is a game. I wonder if she’ll think my dick is real when I shove it into her.”

  Beast clenched his fists to stop from lunging for the man. He obviously assumed his captives didn’t speak Spanish, or he didn’t care if they did. His eyes shot to Beast and he smirked, challenging him to do something about his plans. Beast clenched his teeth hard as he narrowed his eyes at the man. As far as Beast was concerned, his kidnapper was nothing more than a dead man walking.

  The kidnapper held the phone out to Belinda. “Make the call,” he ordered her, his voice cold and flat.

  Belinda took the phone. “And you promise that once you have the money, you’ll return us to our families?” She was back to acting.

  “But of course.” He shrugged, as though he was a reasonable man.

  “Unharmed?” She infused the word with trembling fear. If only it had been real caution Beast heard instead of the part she thought she was playing.

  “I’m sure we won’t hurt her too much while we use her,” the kidnapper said to his men, who laughed again.

  He turned back to her with a leering smile. “Of course you will be returned in one piece to your family. We are not monsters. We are businessmen.”

  Yeah, even if he couldn’t speak Spanish, Beast wouldn’t have believed him.

  “What do you want to do about her bodyguard?” one of the men asked.

  The leader gave Beast a considering look. “We keep him for now. We can use him to get her to behave. But once his usefulness is over, get rid of him.”

  Beast tensed. He’d known he was useless to the kidnappers. Now he knew his time was already running out.

  “Should I get my father to handle John’s ransom too?” Belinda said, making the men still. “Or do you want John to speak to his partners at the studio himself?”

  What the hell? Beast wanted to turn to her and shake some sense into her. He wasn’t a damn character in her delusional game. None of them were.

  “Studio?” The leader eyed Beast.

  “Oh, yes, studio. Unless it’s too expensive to call the States.” Belinda had obviously decided that her character should be dumb as dirt. Great. More fun for all.

  “Oh, wait,” she said as she scooted forward, phone in hand. “That was your agent at the party, right? You could call him instead.” She beamed at him, clearly enjoying herself.

  Beast stared at her. He couldn’t speak. There were actually no words in his head.

  “Why would your bodyguard need an agent?” the leader said.

  Belinda giggled, and Beast had to fight the urge to shake his head. What the hell was she doing? She was going to get them both killed.

  “This isn’t my bodyguard,” she said. “This is John Favreau. He’s one of the best directors in Hollywood. He directed Iron Man. He’s known for his action movies, and he’s going to direct me in my next movie.” She lowered her voice as though she was imparting a national secret. “I’m playing the title role in a reboot of Supergirl. That’s why he was invited to my sister’s wedding.” She gave Beast a vapid but shaky smile—still playing her part of airheaded kidnap victim. “We’re practically best friends, seeing as we’ll be working together.”

  The leader gave her a lecherous grin. “So pretty and yet you stupid,” he said.

  Beast knew he radiated tense readiness. If their kidnappers bought that he was anything other than a caged animal waiting to pounce, then Belinda was a better actress than he’d given her credit for.

  “A movie director?” Their kidnapper was, unsurprisingly, unconvinced.

  Beast silently willed Belinda to shut her mouth and stop weaving stories that were going to get them both shot.

  She didn’t. Instead, her eyes widened and she nodded. “Oh yes, he started in the business as a stuntman. That’s where the muscles come from; he’s known for his healthy movie sets. All of his casts are expected to work out and eat, like, salads and stuff.”

  She’d lost the plot entirely now. B
east wasn’t even sure what she was talking about. She was so focused on making the fake kidnapping fun for them both that she was weaving incredible stories. He’d seen photos of the real John Favreau. The guy did not look like he worked out ten hours a day. All their captors had to do was Google the name and they’d know Belinda was lying.

  “Stuntman?” The leader was clearly sceptical.

  “Oh yes.” She nodded, all wide-eyed and breathy with conviction. It was hard to believe she’d been nominated for an Oscar. She looked better suited for the type of acting you found in a porn movie. A comparison that must have occurred to their kidnappers too. They were looking at her as though they were starving and she was steak.

  “After a few years getting knocked around doing stunts,” Belinda carried on, oblivious to the hole she dug deeper with each crazy word, “John decided he knew more about making action movies than the guys ordering him around, and he made one to prove it. The rest is box office history. Now he makes the best action movies on the planet.”

  He also made Elf. Another fact the kidnappers would find out when they Googled the real John Favreau.

  There was a moment’s silence before the leader spoke. “I think the big director can make his own phone call.”

  Yeah, that hole was even deeper now.

  “You first.” The leader motioned to the phone.

  Beast kept his eyes on the men as she dialled. “Dad, it’s me, Belinda.”

  There was silence. Belinda smiled. “I knew you were in on this too! Tell Daniel I’m going to get him back for this.” She actually winked at her captor before getting back into character. “Dad, listen, the men who’ve taken us want me to give you a message.” Her voice broke on the last word, and if Beast didn’t know she was hamming it up, he’d have thought she was genuinely scared. “John Favreau has been kidnapped too. We’re together. John is going to call his agent, Michael Carter, and tell him he needs to pay the ransom. I’m telling you the same thing. Everything will be okay if you pay. The—”