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On the screen was a woman, some celebrity he vaguely recognized, and it looked like she was doing some sort of televised appeal. The volume was turned down low, but an image of Lila popped up beside the woman who was talking. Snatching the phone from Vivienne’s hand, he turned the sound up to hear what was happening.
“If anyone has information on the disappearance of Liliana Angeletti we implore you to call the hotline immediately,” the woman said. She sounded sincere, but there was a vibe about her that had him on edge.
“Liliana Angeletti?” Brick asked. “The child star?”
Was his Lila the former child actress Liliana Angeletti? Was that why she had freaked out when they’d been talking about names and nicknames?
“How do they know she’s missing?” Mouse asked.
“Eagle got her name held back when the story about the explosion and abduction was picked up, but someone probably had cell phone footage and recognized her,” Arrow said.
“That’s Zara Duffy,” Mouse added. “She’s a well-known actress, married to that billionaire movie producer Ross Duffy. Does all those kids’ movies, you know the ones, wholesome, funny, family fun. Lolly loves her.”
“Lila is such a wonderful woman, and her family is frantic for news on where she is and who abducted her,” Zara spoke onscreen. “She’s also a dear family friend who doesn’t deserve this. She spent her childhood bringing joy to millions, and now we ask that you help her in return. If you know anything, no matter how small, don’t hesitate to reach out, pozhaluysta.”
Domino stiffened. “That was Russian.”
“Zara Duffy has black hair and dark eyes,” Brick added.
“Dark Beauty,” Surf said, a flicker of hope igniting inside him. If this was Kristoff Mikhailov’s Dark Beauty, then not only did they have a lead on finding Lila before it was too late, but they could also end this whole plot. The danger to him and his team and their families personally would be gone, and the lives of millions of innocent people would be saved.
Selfish or not, right now his priority was finding Lila and getting her safely back where she belonged.
In his arms.
* * * * *
November 17th
8:27 A.M.
Courage came and went in waves.
Some moments Lila was positive that she had this, that she possessed what it took to survive, to get through this, and to find a way to escape.
Other moments she felt like curling up on the floor, closing her eyes, pressing her hands to her ears, and giving up.
Right now, she was kind of hovering between the two.
All night she had been building herself up, trying to catch snippets of sleep when she could, but mostly too wired and afraid to do more than doze off for a few minutes before the tiniest of sounds—most of which she was sure she had imagined—ripped her awake. Thankfully, she had been brought up to a room last night and left alone. The room was on the third floor so climbing out the window was out, and her door had been locked so she was trapped inside, but at least she was alone.
Other than touching her inappropriately as he dressed her yesterday when they arrived at the Swiss villa, Ross hadn’t laid a hand on her. His wife had gotten a call, insisted he go with her to a different room, and they had spent most of the day there dealing with whatever they were doing.
Not that she was complaining.
The reprieve had been welcome. She’d been fed and left alone to sit in front of the fire. At dinner, she had been escorted to the dining room and given dinner, then taken up to this room. The bedroom had a bathroom attached so she’d been able to take a shower. No one had put cuffs on her again, so she was free to move about, clean herself, go to the toilet, and get dressed. There was a dresser and a closet full of clothes that she assumed were for her use, so she’d chosen some pajamas for the night. This morning, she’d dressed in jeans, thick socks, comfortable boots she could walk in if she got a chance to run, and multiple layers so she could survive the elements if she escaped.
Now someone was at the door, and it was time to summon every ounce of courage she possessed.
Channeling her inner Christian “Surf” Bailey, warrior extraordinaire, her very own sexy SEAL, she stood ready and waiting to face whatever was going to happen next.
When the door opened it revealed Ross. Dressed elegantly in black pants, a crisp white shirt, with a blue silk tie, he looked the picture of sophistication. Too bad the man had a penchant for young girls and had no problem physically holding them down and raping them, stealing their innocence.
“Good morning, darling,” he drawled as though she were a guest in his home instead of a kidnap victim. “Did you sleep well?”
“Not particularly,” she shot back. No way was she going to cower at this man’s feet. Not this time.
Ross’ brow creased. “You’ve certainly grown an attitude since I last saw you.”
