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Chapter One

Callie stood on the balcony of her luxury apartment overlooking Cincinnati, Ohio. It was eight in the evening on a Friday night. The city was lit with the colorful lights of the nightlife. She glanced down at the wine glass she held in her hand. The crystal was easily eighty dollars. The white wine was from a bottle she’d snagged from her father’s prized collection. When she’d purchased the expensive, long-stemmed glass it’d seemed important because she’d paid for it with her first paycheck as CEO of HealthTec, Incorporated. Blood, sweat and tears had gone into that title. Late nights and little sleep. Callie earned the position and she’d earned the wine glass. And what the hell was it all for? So she could stand in her fancy, two-bedroom, spacious high-rise apartment with her spectacular view alone on a Friday night? Happiness was supposed to come with the CEO position. She was supposed to earn her father’s admiration and respect finally. God knows buckets of determination had gone into achieving a certain level of success. Her father respected hard work. He understood ambition. And still he looked right through her. She wasn’t the child he’d wanted. She had made the horrible mistake of being born a girl. Then her mother had died as a result of a brain aneurysm, and he’d been left without his precious, male heir.

HealthTec had been her father’s brainchild. He cared more about the company than he did his own flesh and blood. Not that it mattered. Callie knew at the age of ten that her father was never going to be the doting dad. Her friends had parents that would come to class plays and show up for teacher conferences. Her father had always been too busy building his empire to care about his only child’s education. Why had she thought becoming CEO of the company he treasured above all else in life would mean something to him. Her cell phone chimed and she looked at the message on the screen. A work email. Callie didn’t get messages from friends or loved ones. That would imply she actually had friends and loved ones. And she was the one to blame for that. She’d sacrificed so much and for what? A fancy apartment, nice car, and pretty wine glasses. God, she was pathetic.

A beeping noise came from the front of her apartment signaling a call from the doorman. She went inside, then closed and locked the sliding glass door. She placed her wine glass and cell phone on the Brazilian agate coffee table that her father had purchased for her last birthday. The unique teardrop shape would cause lots of oohs and ahhs if she ever had company. In fact, most of her one-of-a-kind furniture and artwork would have any designer salivating. Her busy schedule and lack of friends meant no one but her had ever appreciated the décor.

With her thoughts heading south by the second, Callie walked across the room to the intercom and pushed a button on the display. “Yes, Fred?”

“Ms. Wilson, I’m sorry to interrupt but there’s a man here who insists on speaking with you. He says he knows your father.”

Odd that an associate of her father’s would show up at her apartment. “Name?”

“He says his name is Mr. Zenarian,” Fred replied.

She had no idea who it could be, but she had to wonder if it had something to do with her father’s newest decision to discontinue one of their products. Their company was responsible for creating a genetically modified form of ginseng that promised a boost in metabolism. In theory the powdery substance should’ve flown off the shelves, but that hadn’t happened. Probably because it didn’t work as claimed. At least, it hadn’t worked as well as claimed. Epic failure. Something not to be tolerated by the mighty Quinn Wilson. Someone had dropped the ball during testing and her father was still spitting mad over it.

Callie pushed the button on the intercom and said, “I’ll be down in a moment, Fred. Thank you.”

“Of course, Ms. Wilson.” Callie went to the bathroom and checked her appearance. Her hair was still pulled back into a French twist. Her makeup still appeared as fresh as when she’d put it on at six o’clock that morning. She even had on the black skirt and white blouse she’d worn to work. “God, my life is dull,” she mumbled to her reflection, half expecting her image to disagree with her. She flicked the light switch, then grabbed her cell phone from the coffee table before taking her purse and keys from the table next to the door. Callie left her apartment, locking up behind her. It was a secure building in a safe neighborhood, but her dad had drilled it into her early on that there were bad people everywhere. When she was fifteen, he’d enrolled her in self-defense classes. By the time she was twenty-two she’d taken shooting lessons and possessed a concealed carry license for the gun in her purse. Never let it be said that her dad did anything half-assed.

She took the elevator to the lobby and when she stepped out she was brought up short by a tall man with long silver hair. He had to be at least six-foot-six. He was built linebacker tough and when she approached, his gaze swung her way. She couldn’t look away from the silver-grey eyes and half wondered if maybe they were contact lenses. Hair dye too probably. Had to be.

She walked towards him, noticing the way he tensed, his eyes narrowing. “Hello, you must be Mr. Zenarian,” she said with a smile, hoping to put the man at ease. “I’m Callie Wilson. What can I do for you?”

He reached out and shook her hand. His skin was warm, the skin of his hand a little rough. “My boss wishes an audience with you, Ms. Wilson.”

Okay, that was cryptic. “I’m not sure who your boss is, Mr. Zenarian, but you’re welcome to call my office on Monday and set up a meeting.”

“That’s unacceptable,” he replied, his voice deep and edged with steel. “Now, is preferable.”

She laughed. Who did this guy think he was? “I’m sorry, but I’m busy at the moment. Please have your boss call my office.” She turned to leave, but suddenly the man was in front of her. How had he gotten around her so fast? She hadn’t even seen him move.

“If you do not wish for your doorman to die a painfully slow death, you will come with me. Now..”

Callie’s heartbeat sped up at the threat. She tensed and reached inside her purse for her gun, but he stopped her with a hand on hers. He squeezed, not painfully, but enough to drive his point home. He inclined his head towards the front of the lobby and Callie followed his line of sight. Fred sat behind the front desk, completely oblivious to the threat that surrounded them.

She shot an angry glare at the stranger. “What is this about?”

“Come with me and you’ll soon learn,” he stated, his voice dropping to a whisper. “I mean you no harm, Ms. Wilson.”

She stood firm, afraid if she left the safety of the building she might not be coming back. “How do I know you won’t just kill me as soon as we walk out those doors?”

“You do not, but if you resist then I’ll be forced to hurt your doorman because he will come to your aid,” he stated, his voice totally devoid of emotion. “I don’t think you want that.”

She looked at Fred again. She’d known him a short time, but he was kind to her. He had kids, grandkids. A wife of fifty years. The need to defend herself warred with her need to keep Fred from harm. In the end the choice was clear. “I’ll go, but if you hurt him in any way, I’ll shoot you.”

Some emotion flickered in his silver eyes and he almost smiled. “I believe you, Ms. Wilson. But I have given my word that Fred will come to no harm. I keep my word.”

She sighed. “The word of a kidnapper. Terrific,” She grumbled.

He took hold of her arm and led her out the front door. Fred waved and told her to have a good evening. She wanted to give him some signal that she was definitely not going to have a good evening. She was being kidnapped for Christ’s sake.

Once outside her kidnapper leaned close to her ear and whispered, “I’ve stated you are in no danger. When your meeting with my boss is concluded I will return you to your home.”

Callie clutched her purse tighter and waited for the opportunity to pull out the gun hidden inside and save herself from the bizarre situation. He led her to a big, black SUV with blacked-out windows. Was he a drug dealer? What the hell? He pulled open the passenger side door and stepped back for her to get in. Once seated, he held out a hand. “I’ll take the purse, Ms. Wilson.” When she hesitated, his gaze narrowed. “Now.”

She handed it over, along with her only chance at possible escape. He slammed the door shut and came around the front and got in behind the wheel. She watched him pull out her gun and slide it inside his jacket pocket, before stashing her purse under his seat. Unless she was able to overpower the giant man, not likely, her chance of getting to her gun just went up in flames. Callie tried the handle, but it wouldn’t budge. She searched for a lock and came up empty. No way out. Were the windows bullet proof too? The entire situation was starting to feel like something out of a movie. Mobsters came to mind. Her father was wealthy. Was she being held for ransom?

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