Chances (Mystic Nights #1)(45)

“Please.” He ignored her question. But after a few more steps he was talking. “Well, it’s not over yet, pretty girl. I’ve got enough for myself. The casino will eventually turn a profit. They’ll get theirs. For now, they’ll need to be patient. I’ve waited for what’s mine long enough.” Again, his evil laugh came from somewhere deep down inside of him.

She remained mute. The man’s sense of entitlement knew no bounds.

“My people!” Such sarcasm. Such disgust. “My people should have joined the eastern tribe when they were given the chance all those years ago. But no, the elders wanted to keep their own reserve, their own cultural diversity. Bullshit! Climb on,” he ordered as they reached his boat. She did as she was told. “Diversity. That’s such a load of crap. We are the same f*cking tribe. We should have been profiting from Foxwoods and Mohegan’s. Not living on some God damned government handouts for another two decades.”

Her hope was nearly gone. “But Mystic Nights is doing well now.” She was grasping at straws. Anything. “We will start to reap the benefits soon.”

“We won’t see anything for another five years. I’ll be an old f*cking man. You know how the state, the federal government is. The taxes are taking it all in these initial years. Interest to the Malaysians.” She heard him crawl in behind her and then they were both standing on the deck of his boat.

He turned her to face him. “But we will, eventually . . .”

“Shut the f*ck up,” he screamed into her face as he reached down to open the hatch. “And get the f*ck down below. We need to be going. Now!” His rage was up once more.

Aliya quickly scrambled down the short ladder. He came down behind her too quick for her to get her bearings. To look for something to protect herself with, to protect the baby. For every step he took, she took one backwards. The hatred in his eyes as he glared at her was more apparent than ever. “I ran this damn reserve. Without me the Sassacus’s were nothing.” He saw her hands fly over to cover her belly. “Go ahead and hold your belly. Try to keep that little bastard inside you. For now,” he threatened as her knees buckled when she reached the bed inside the small cabin. “Now lie down, like a good girl. I need to tie you up while I get the boat under way.” He produced some cords from God knows where. Probably had grabbed them off of one of the hooks in the cabin as he passed it. “We have a long ride ahead of us. But, I’ll keep you around a bit longer. You might be good for a f*ck or two, though God knows what diseases a slut like you might have.” Aliya shuddered as Peter began to tie her hands together, and then tethered them to an eye bolt over her head. As he tied her feet and tethered them as well, he added his final words before leaving her alone below deck. “I doubt it. But I might let you live.” He paused as he examined her body. She saw his interest, but the look faded when it passed over her stomach. “But that bastard child you’re carrying. The baby. No. This world does not need another f*cking Sassacus bastard.” Aliya tried to twist away from his cold glare. But he didn’t see it. He had already turned, and headed back to the ladder, back up top. It was less than thirty seconds later she felt the hum of the motor, and then the boat began to move.

And, all Aliya could think of that was possible to do, was to cry and pray. She was in trouble. The baby was in trouble, and she couldn’t think of a way out.





Chapter 20




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Jonathan was frantic. He’d called Aliya’s parents upon leaving the casino to ascertain if they had knowledge of her whereabouts. He was lucky he’d only spoken to her mother, although he’d heard plenty from her father as he was more than willing to offer his input, loudly, behind the mother. Neither was happy with Jonathan at the moment when he’d explained what was occurring. He accepted the blame for putting their daughter in this dangerous situation.

Her mother suggested a few friends she may have called and he repeated the numbers out loud, so that Joseph and Tom could jot them down and began making calls. But the longer he listened to her mother, the more he began to worry about Aliya. He was almost sure something was wrong. His gut told him.

“He better find her,” he heard Aliya’s father threaten. “I can’t imagine what she must be feeling. If Peter has her . . .” His voice trailed off.

“Henry Houston suggested the boat house. Peter has a boat and a small boat house by the marina.” Jim called out. He was on the phone with one of her friend’s, a dancer she hung out with from time to time. Shit! He should have thought of that. Peter had offered to take him out on his boat a few times. He’d always been too busy. And he’d never been able to fathom the thought of forming a friendship with the older man.

“The boat house. The marina,” he called to the driver whose name was Sigmund, another member of his security team.

“Please find her, Jonathan. She had nothing to do with whatever Peter has been doing. She loves you. You can work this out.”

“I will,” he promised and heard her father murmur more threats as his stomach plummeted. It seemed his loss of faith in Aliya had been not only presumptuous, but unfounded. He hoped she could forgive him. They were not far from the marina. Maybe a mile. And Sigmund was an excellent driver. He drove around other cars quickly, yet safely as he careened around the last two turns. Jonathan hung up the phone, promising he would do everything within his power to find their daughter.