Touch & Go (Tessa Leoni, #2)(53)

“What do they want?” Ashlyn asked plaintively.

“Money.”

I glanced up sharply, a motion that made me wince.

“Think about it,” he said, as if sensing my doubt. “They’re carrying Tasers, not guns. So their goal is to control, but not harm. They’ve Tased us, drugged us, bound us. Again, all strategies devised to subdue, but not injure.”

“Until the Mick guy beat the shit out of Mom,” Ashlyn muttered.

“Young lady,” Justin began, “I don’t want to hear that kind of language—”

“She’s right,” I interjected, already feeling Ashlyn’s growing hostility. “He beat the shit out of me.”

Justin scowled at our joint rebellion. “Which their leader, Z, immediately halted by Tasing his own guy, then he sent you for medical treatment. Again, if their intent is to harm, why would Z care if you have a concussion? Why bother having one of his men tend to you, taking up time and resources? For that matter, why feed us? Because he wants us subdued but unharmed, all the better for demanding ransom, where he’ll have to deliver proof of life.”

“Proof of life?” Ashlyn asked.

“As part of the ransom demand, Z will have to prove we’re still alive and well. Hence he went after Mick when Mick attacked your mother. It’s not enough to simply ask for money. Z has to prove he really has us, but also, we’re undamaged enough to be worth wanting back; hence your mother can’t be in a coma.”

“Kidnapping,” Ashlyn murmured. “Ransom. Proof of life.” She tested out each word, as if trying to determine how such phrases had come to apply in her life.

“The kitchen is well stocked,” I said, my gaze flickering to Justin with unspoken meaning. Such as, there were enough dry goods in this prison to last weeks, let alone days.

“Ransom cases can take time,” he said evasively. “Especially, given there’s an insurance company involved.”

Ashlyn and I stared at him blankly. He explained that Denbe Construction carried not only a life insurance policy on him, but kidnapping as well. Corporate insurance 101, he claimed, especially in this day and age when executives traveled to places such as South America and the Middle East, only to disappear in the middle of the night. Except Justin never traveled to any of those places, I thought. But apparently, he still had kidnapping insurance, and by extension, Ashlyn and I did as well.

Ashlyn perked up. “How much are Mom and I worth?”

Justin hesitated. “One mil. Each.”

“Cool!” Our daughter found this exciting. “And you?”

“Don’t remember…couple mil maybe.”

Ashlyn rolled her eyes at me. “Why are the men always worth more?”

“You don’t want to provide too much incentive,” Justin said, tone still deadly serious. “The point of insurance is to cover worst-case scenarios, while not making the insured—say, you or your mother or myself—appear so valuable that you become a target.”

He looked at me, and once again, wordless communication passed. Such as, while individually our abduction would not earn enough money to significantly compensate a trio of commandos, our family as a whole was worth at least four million, possibly more, if the commandos planned on stretching above the policy limit. For example, perhaps Z figured that if the insurance would kick in four million, then the company, Denbe, ought to be good for at least another two, meaning they’d demand six million for our safe return. That would translate to two million dollars per commando. Incentive, all right.

Justin was still staring at me, and in his direct blue eyes, I saw the other piece of the puzzle, the real reason he sat so straight and grim: Whoever had come up with this scheme must know about the insurance, must know us. Factor in what Ashlyn had said, that the front door had been locked, the security system armed, and that meant they also had access to our security codes.

Someone we knew. Someone we trusted. Someone we most likely considered a friend had hired Z’s team, researching our schedules, identifying this mothballed prison from Justin’s work history and planning each step of this operation. Maybe that person got three million, and Z’s team one apiece. Still plenty of incentive.

To betray a buddy and put his entire family at risk.

I shivered slightly. I hadn’t felt so violated since…well, since finding another woman’s sexually explicit texts on my husband’s cell phone.

“They’re professionals,” I murmured.

He nodded slowly.

“Military backgrounds,” I added. “I tried, in the infirmary, to ask Radar questions. He was careful with his replies, but he mentioned military barracks. Plus, the way they look, act…”

Justin wasn’t speaking, but he appeared troubled. “A lot of former military in the trades,” he said at last. An admission of sorts. Maybe the threat didn’t come from his company specifically, but from the construction industry as a whole.

Ashlyn was studying us, picking up on the unspoken communiqués. “What?”

“Nothing,” Justin said.

“Bullshit!”

“Young lady—”

“Stop it! Stop it!” She lurched to her feet, temper flaring. “I’m fifteen years old, Dad. I know all my swears. Shit, f*ck, damn, bitch. And who are you to tell me how to talk? I’ve been on your job sites, I know how guys speak. What, it’s good enough for you, but too real for me?”