Billion, with a 'B' (closed)

Carly stepped from the shadows of the alley opposite the Anatolia Café. For half an hour, she'd been studying the pair of men flanking the entrance to the exclusive restaurant. They were so obviously personal bodyguards. And their master was inside the otherwise closed bistro for a private dinner with business associates.

She waited until they'd spotted her before heading their way. Street lights above her in four directions gave the men a good look at her. Her shapely body was dressed to gain attention, as was the purposeful way in which her hips swayed. Carly was barely 5'4" before adding the height of the four inch stiletto heeled boots that reached upwards beyond her knees. Black, yoga-style pants were little more than a second skin to her lower half, showing off every muscle and curve of her legs, hips ... and groin. A tight fitting leather jacket hefted her otherwise unbridled B-cup breasts to create eye-grabbing cleavage. The jacket's lower hem exposed five inches of bare midriff. A delicate diamond dangly adorned her pieced belly button, glinting in the light of the street lamps.

The men toward whom she was walking were professionals, though. They were both likely fantasizing about bending Carly over the hood of the nearby limousine for a quick fuck. Yet they both sprung into action as she neared, ignoring her exotic, erotic appearance and stride. The blonde bodyguard stepped closer to the curb, directly into Carly's path. Behind him, the brunette security man stepped into the restaurant's doorway. The latter talked softly into the mike inside his shirt collar after pressing a button on a pager like device on his belt.

"Restaurants closed, sweetheart," the blonde said firmly. His gaze moved between Carly's face and hands, professionally ignoring the tits and tightly gowned groin he knew she wanted him to watch. He nodded his head to one side without taking his eyes off her. "McDonalds is three blocks that way."

"Not hungry, but thanks anyway," Carly said as she stopped near the limousine's front end. She raised her hands out wide, parted her feet, and said, "Your boss is gonna invite me inside in a moment. But if you want to frisk me now, I don't mind."

She glanced past the blonde to the brunette. She blew him a kiss. "When your friend here's gotten his fill of me, you can frisk me, too."

By the time Carly was finished flirting, the blonde bodyguard's eyes were open wide at what he was hearing in the security communication bud in his ear. He pulled his weapon, leveling it at Carly. "Don't move!"

Carly smiled wider, responding, "Okay, but ... it's more fun when I move."

The brunette had been talking into his chest mike again. As another pair of bodyguards spilled out of the restaurant to watch the door, he moved over closer to Carly. He pulled his own weapon as he demanded, "Name and reason for being here!"

"Carly Conners," she said without hesitation. "And ... I think you know why I'm here."

The brunette grabbed Carly and spun her to face the limousine. He holstered his weapon and began frisking her. He paid no heed to the fact that she was a woman as his hands moved forcefully over and between her boobs, then up between her thighs until they pressed against her throng-shrouded pussy.

"You missed a tit," Carly said playfully. As the brunette spun her, then unzipped her leather coat to look inside it, she said with a grimace, "Can we go inside now? It's kinda cold out here, and my nipples are starting to ache."



Tara had always hated being the daughter of a billionaire. Well, not always. When she'd wanted to do something or go somewhere or buy something that required money, sometimes lots of money, having a rich daddy had always been nice. Particularly when her daddy, Parker Hamilton, had never hesitated to indulge his only child's every whim.

But when she reached her adult years and wanted to have adult fun, Tara found her overbearing, overprotective father and his omni-present security team a pain in the ass. Tonight could have been a prime example of Daddy getting in the way of having fun. From the night of her 21st birthday, almost 7 months ago, Tara had been an avid clubber. She could be found out on the town two, three, sometimes four nights a week. Dancing the night away had become Tara's primary form of exercise.

Her father had tolerated it all because somehow his daughter had simultaneously managed to maintain a 3.80 GPA at university. But the clubbing had become a security risk. Particularly when Tara began ditching her personal 24/7 security team of 4 to sneak off to smoke dope or have sex ... or both. Parker Hamilton didn't want to stifle his daughter's youthful streak. But at the same time he wasn't going to have his daughter's safety endangered by her wild nature. So, Parker had given his daughter a choice: cease partying or get chipped.

"Like our dog?" had been her incredulous response at the idea of having an RFID chip implanted under her skin. "Next you're gonna give me a flea bath and spay me."

But seeing her freedom heading into the sunset without her, Tara had submitted. A transmitter was implanted on the underside of her forearm; and because capable, intelligent kidnappers knew to look for such devices, a second one of a different design -- undetectable to the commonly known scanning techniques -- was placed on the inside of Tara's thigh just inches from her panty line. (She playfully called it her pussy tracker.)

They were more than just identifiers, though, meant to positively identify Tara's body should she ever disappear and be found floating in the Hudson River. The forearm RFID could be tracked by the security team's monitors on duty to within 6 feet from as far away as 30 miles; the pussy tracker -- which was normally passive -- could be activated anywhere on the planet by the same system that most satellite phones used, after which it would identify Tara's location to 30 feet out as far as 300 miles.

Unfortunately for Tara and her father, Carly's team knew all about both trackers. And after the team accosted Tara and her dancing companion of the night in a club bathroom and slipped them both away to a utility closet, Carly herself used a scalpel to cut out Tara's arm and pussy trackers. One of Carly's team walked around the club for the next hour with the chips in his pocket. That gave the exfil team long enough to scoot Tara away -- the friend was left in the closet, bound and gagged -- and Carly enough time to get across town to the Anatolia Café.

It was only then that the faux-Tara flushed the trackers down the men's room toilet. Within seconds, the simpler device failed. Back in the Security Room at the Hamilton estate, the on-duty Supervisor was alerted. Presuming it was just a glitch, he calmly activated the second tracker and reported the failure to Tara's security team. But before the bodyguards could even begin a search of the club for their charge, the pussy tracker failed as well.



Which brought us to the brunette bodyguard who was manhandling Carly into and through the Anatolia Café. A man Carly recognized at Parker Hamilton's Head of Security, Robert Hayes, stood before the most distant booth in the little restaurant. Upon reaching Hayes, the brunette bodyguard reported, "She's clean."

"Check her again," Hayes demanded, studying Carly. "Take the coat. Check it."

The brunette and yet another bodyguard stripped Carly's unzipped leather jacket from her shoulders and arms. Underneath, she wore a thin, white bandeau, essentially a tube top that barely hid her breasts and very little else. Through it, the shape and shade of her pert, dark nipples were very noticeable. The brunette bodyguard again frisked her without a care about her gender. When he was done, he backed away, nodding to his boss.

Hayes invited, "Why don't you join us and tell us why you're here, Miss ... Conner?"

"Conners," Carly clarified. "Plural ... 'cause there's too much of me for just one man ... or woman."

"Cute," Hayes said wryly as he gestured Carly to the side of the booth opposite his boss.

"But you can call me Carly."

Carly dropped into the booth. She wore a pleasant expression as she studied the man. After a moment, she reached up to gently touch a hardened nipple. To Parker she said, "It's kinda cold, and these puppies hurt. Any chance I can get my coat back ... or a sweater?"

Hayes mentioned to one of the men and he withdrew.

"Your jacket no. But maybe a sweater."

He knew that the men are professionals, in fact he had hand-picked them all. But they also remained human and male and this little firecracker could stir up trouble even if she had come here wearing a bulky ski suit.

"Now, quit the wisecracking and tell me why you are here and seem more than adamant to speak to Mr Hamilton."

The guard returned with a mustard/beige colored jacket and dropped it on the table, before taking his place. Hayes motioned for Carly to put on the jacket. Carly shrugged on the jacket, "How chivalrous of you. Thanks."

Hayes knew that Tasha's trackers had gone dark, he knew that Mr Hamilton waited for them to process this woman and get answers fast. He also knew that the clock was ticking, they did not want to involve the Police and he guessed it would be one of the stipulations.

"How chivalrous of you, thanks," Carly told them at the sight of the offered coat. As she began to rise to don it, the guards about her tensed again. She said to Hayes, "Je-sus ... relax already. I don't have enough clothes on to hid a paper clip, let alone a weapon I could really harm your boss with."

They let her stand, and Carly donned the coat. She did so with some unnecessary turns and twists intended to ensure that Parker Hamilton got a good look at every curve of her delicious body. She sat again, studying him for a moment before glancing around at the multitude of bodyguards within sight.

"Actually," she said, looking up at Hayes again with a smirk. "There is a knife in the inside of my left boot. Your men missed it."

She cautiously lifted her boot closer to the Security Chief and gave them a moment to check the boot again. Sure enough, down in between the leather and the lining, they pulled out a flat, thin, ceramic blade that had evaded both their physical frisk and their metal detector. Just being careful, they checked the other boot as well but found nothing there.

"I believe in transparency," Carly said, now looking directly to Parker. Her lips spread in a wide smile again and she laughed. "Even some of my clothes are transparent. I'll have to show you my closet someday."

It was made clear to Carly that they were tired of her games. She looked around at all of the faces paying attention to the event and suggested, "There are too may ears here, Mister Hamilton. This is something that needs to stay between you and I. Or ... you and I and Mister Hayes here. Yes, I know who you are."

She said the last as she looked up to the Security Chief. To Hayes she said, "The Press lives on leaks ... and while I am sure you trust each and every one of the men here and outside the restaurant, eventually one of them is going to say something to someone that is going to ruin our little party."

Carly didn't expect Hayes to simply send all of his men away, of course, leaving his boss here with her, undefended. She clarified, "Just give us some space. You already disarmed me. I'm just one little girl."

She flashed that flirtatious smile again, to both men. After a moment, Hayes lessened the ears and eyes without risking his boss, and Carly looked back to Parker. She retained a bit of a smile, but it and her tone also took on a slightly more serious tone.

"We have you daughter," she began bluntly. "She is safe. Perfectly safe. And she will remain safe, so long as you and she do as you are told. Yeah, yeah, you want proof of life. You don't even have to ask. A video will be sent to your phone within the hour, Parker. Do you mind if I call you Parker? Or do you prefer Mister Hamilton?"

Carly gave him time to respond if he wished. Regardless of what his answer was, she continued, "So Parker, this is obviously a kidnapping, but ... we don't want your money. Well, actually ... we do. But ... not like you are probably imagining. We're not gonna have one of your bodyguards act as a bag man, running from point to point all over the city with a big bag of cash as we try to identify the multitude of cops and FBI agents trying to keep with him without our spotters seeing them. Yes, I watch television. Love those kidnapping movies. Mel Gibson's character in Ransom -- great name, by the way -- had it right, though. Best response to a kidnapping I ever saw, though, I wouldn't advise it in your situation."

She glanced up at Hayes as he hovered over the table, then back to Parker as she continued talking about how he was going to pay the ransom. "Our way is less strenuous. First, you are going to announce to the Press and on Facebook and Instagram and on any of a half dozen other social media sites that you have discovered a new outlook on life. That you reject the concept of mass wealth and are going to divest yourself of your fortune."

Carly reached out for one of the half filled glasses of water, wetting her whistle. She continued, "Then, each day, every day, for the next 100 days..."

She hesitated, knowing that what she said next was already beginning to formulate in Parker's mind. "Yes ... your daughter, Tara, will be staying with us for a while. Each day, you will make a payment ... a grant if you want to call it that ... a grant of $100 million to a group of our choosing. Or, maybe we'll sometimes let you choose your own charity once in a while, I don't know. We can discuss it."

She gave the two men a moment to do the math, then verified, "Yes, $1 billion dollars total ... billion with a 'b'. Relax, you're worth six-point-two billion, according to last week's Forbe's. After you've finished bettering the world with your grants, your daughter will be returned to you safe and sound ... and you will never be bothered by us again."

She looked up to Hayes and smiled. "In fact, at that point, Robert here can put a bullet in the back of my head if he wants."

Carly looked back to Parker again. "Doesn't much matter to me. This isn't about me or my wants. I'm not getting a penny of this money. Don't want it."

She could have gone deeper into detail on her own personal motivations but Carly didn't. Instead, she continued, "Each and every day, you will be allowed to talk to your daughter for one minute, just to reassure you that she is safe and unharmed. Now, if you can do this as I have laid it out, the Press will never get wind of the relationship between your incredible, unprecedented philanthropy and your missing daughter. Arrangements are being made to cover for Tara's kidnapping."

She reached out again for a glass, but this time for one half filled with white wine that surely came from one of Parker Hamilton's own vineyards in the Napa or Alsace valleys. She sipped at it as she studied Parker and awaited his response.

Parker tried very hard not to glare at the woman, he had cut the meeting short the moment that he heard that Tara's trackers had failed. Trackers like those did not just fail, they were top-of-the-line and the best that money could buy.

"You call me Mister Hamilton."

In fact very few people called him Parker, of course his name was well-known, but next to nobody ever called him by his name. The last person who had done so on a regular base had been his deceased wife.

"So you want me to believe that out of the goodness of your heart, you will look after my only child, who you not only have kidnapped, but whose tracking devices you would have had to cut out to separate the two. And not only will you look after her, you will keep her healthy and alive for 100 days, which will mean food, drink and basic sanitation at no cost?"

He scoffed, "I do not believe you. Nor do I trust you even if you did bring a concealed weapon to my table. Oh wait yes, you brought a concealed weapon and that alone proves that you have hidden agendas. So stop wasting my time. Ask for the money, let me get in ready and pay it out to you and then you can give me my daughter and leave. No hide-and-seek and lengthy time wasting needed. You can bet your bottom dollar that if I suddenly turn a new leaf and just give one billion dollars of my hard-earned money away, that it will draw attention from all-over. This will turn into a media circus if my daughter is not seen on her usual haunts with her security team, or should I tell everybody that I had sent her to a rehab center and create even a bigger stir?"

He pushed the glass at his right hand aside, clearly not impressed with Carly's forward, flirtatious manner.

Even as Parker was doubting Carly's reassurances, Hayes was reacting to a vibrating cell phone in one of his breast pockets. He gestured the brunette bodyguard up to take his place watching over the unlikely kidnapper, and turned to look at the device's screen. Carly's team had been led to believe that during business meetings, someone else held onto Parker Hamilton's cell phone.

"I'm hurt that you don't trust me, Parker," Carly responded with feigned disappointment and a pouting lower lip. She was still using the man's given name despite knowing better. "I've been nothing but honest with you so far, and I'll be nothing but honest with you in the days and weeks to come."

Hayes had stood there, back to the booth, for a long moment. He suddenly turned back to the booth and ordered a pair of men to move her off to another booth. As they were manhandling her to her feet and away from Parker, he told the brunette bodyguard, "If she does anything that displeases you, put a fork in her knee."

Carly laughed as she let the men drag her away, calling back to Hayes, "Where's the love, Robert?"

Once she was out of sight and hearing of the booth, Hayes took her seat and slid Parker's cell phone across the table to him. "It's from her people."

He tapped the repeat play icon on the video paused on the screen. The point of view was obviously from another cell phone. It might or might not have been immediately obvious to him what Parker was seeing. But what played out was the very careful and rather professional removal of the two tracking chips from his daughter's arm and leg.

The video began with an up close shot of Tara's face, to prove that it was in fact her. It shifted to a bottle of alcohol, from which a scalpel -- not some lesser blade spontaneously grabbed from a pants pocket or kitchen drawer -- was drawn by a hand in sterile surgical gloves. The kidnapper pressed the knife to a line drawn on the young woman's arm in black marker and cut quickly but skillfully. A second person -- also in gloves -- pressed a piece of gauze to Tara's flesh to catch the small amount of blood released from the cut that had avoided any major arteries.

The camera followed back to the alcohol bottle, from which a pair of surgical tongs were removed. Again with precision, the kidnapper inserted the rounded ends of the tongs into the sliced flesh, and after carefully rooting around, the tips reemerged holding the tracker. It and the tongs disappeared from the camera shot, and into view came small device that pressed to Tara's skin. With a snap, then a second, surgical staples pulled the cut closed. The second kidnapper went to work cleaning up the little bit of blood that had spilled with a wet rag, then stuck a needle -- presumably local anesthetic -- into each side of the wound to ease the pain when Tara regained consciousness.

Tara's arm was wrapped with bandages, and then the operation moved to her thigh where the same procedure was repeated. And it was all over and done with in less than 2 minutes. The camera never revealed the faces of the kidnappers; the video never showed that it had been Carly wielding the blade cutting into the flesh of Tara's body.

The recording skipped ahead. Other than the fact that Tara was filling most of the image, it wasn't immediately obvious what was happening. It soon became obvious Tara was in the back of a vehicle, a van or SUV. A kidnapper, seemingly male but well masked, held a vial up close to the cell phone. The view was in and out of focus, finally settling on the long official name of a well known prescription antibiotic. The man with the camera phone recorded the other kidnapper injecting Tara with the serum.

One final jump ahead showed Tara laying on a bed, slowly regaining consciousness. The video fast forwarded to a sign held up before the lens, reading:


The man turned the sign toward Tara, who the recording only now revealed was shackled by one wrist to the bed frame. She could be seen reading it, then panicking. She jerked at the two foot long metal shackle, then spoke to the kidnappers, although the video had no audio.

The video ended. Hayes asked simply, "What do you want to do, Mister Hamilton?"

Parker pressed the replay button as an answer, watching with intense concentration as the scene unfolded once more. When the clip came to an end he gave a small sigh.

"What is there to do Mr Hayes? They have my daughter, that much is clear. If this woman is part of the deal or a hired help, we don't know. She is way too glib and self-assured to be taken at face value."

He sat pondering the dilemma, "Well since one tracker was passive and were removed precisely, they had to know the location. There is no way they had a sonar machine of any kind available to pinpoint those devices. They had information. Find that source and for now, we have no other choice than to listen to the woman . . . Conner was it?"

A ghost of a smile touched Hayes' lips, "Like she said, multiple Conners."

"Oh and Mr Hayes, snap some restraints on her, we don't want her doing anything silly which might get some trigger fingers itching."

"Done, and done," Hayes responded. He stood from Parker's booth and crossed to the kidnapper's. With a hard tone, he ordered, "Stand her up."

"The love's back!" Carly said, remembering her question about where it was, the love.

A bodyguard manhandled her to her feet. And in a flash, Hayes spun her back toward the booth. He pushed a hand flat against her back and slammed her to the table. "Straps."

"Hey!" Carly called out in surprise. Then she laughed. She tried to look back as she teased, "I like it from behind, too, Robbie, but ... condom, okay?"

Carly didn't know where they'd come from, but a moment later she felt zip tie straps going around her wrists. She laughed again, purring, "Oh, Robert. How very Fifty Shades of you."

"Shut up," Hayes said. He grasped her and pushed her back into the booth. "Sit there, keep quiet."

He turned away and jumped on his cell phone. A moment later, "Willie, I need you to look into something for me."

Hayes gave the man back in Security Central a rundown of the tracker situation. "We need the name of every person who had anything to do with Miss Hamilton's trackers ... from purchase to insertion to periodic checkups. Every one."

"I want to talk to Parker," Carly snapped when the security chief got off the phone. When Hayes only stared at her, she growled, "Now!"

Hayes looked to his boss for a moment. He retrieved Carly with a tight grasp on her upper arm. As he hauled her to the back booth again, he told her, "Get cute and I'll make you less so in a way that won't heal quickly."

"Promises, promises," she purred to him. When he dropped her back in the booth, Carly studied Parker for a moment. Then she got right to business. "You have a trucking business just outside Detroit ... and a distribution company a few miles from that ... warehouse after warehouse filled with food ... cereal boxes, canned beans, sardine tins ... toilet paper, dog food ... sanitary napkins. Anything and everything your neighborhood grocery would need ... anything and everything a growing family in that neighborhood would need ... to keep growing."

She leaned in a bit closer. Below the so-not-her-style cardigan they'd given her, her perky breasts -- lifted and pushed together -- rested on the edge of the table. She continued, "Tomorrow, you're going to make an announcement ... that you feel for the people of Detroit ... the hungry people of Detroit's most destitute, desperate neighborhoods. You're going to fill those trucks ... all of those trucks, again and again and again...! ... and you're going to do a Patty Hearst. Remember Patty Hearst ... the SLA ... the food distribution in the Bay...? Well, you're going to do that but on a scale that will make you a hero amongst the people of the Greater Detroit Area."

Parker studied Carly with a raised eyebrow, "And the cry of 'Feed the people' started in their midst and quickly it spread like wild fire in dry brush."

His finger idly toyed with the stem of his wine glass, "So you would have me help pouring fuel on a fire. The poor and desolute have their grants. Already they bring nothing to the economy and instead take from it."

He held up a hand for silence, "So they receive a big gift now, how long will it last? When the food runs out, what then? You kidnap Tara again? Force me to provide again?"

He shook his head, "Your plan sounds good, but it treats the symptom and not the problem. You want to lift up the people? Kidnap the senator's daughter and force him to allow my demand to purchase property from the government. With the new factories in place it will provide more employment opportunities with on-the-job training. You see Ms Conners, I am a wealthy man, I will not deny it, but in my years in this business I never had one strike, I had a few complaints which got sorted successfully. I look after my people and since you want to force me to reduce the stock I have in my warehouses, that also means that jobs will be lost, since an empty warehouse needs no workers."

He rose, "But since that is your demand, I will direct their needs to you. It will take around six months to replenish the warehouses, so I do hope my employees are on your list of donations."

He slipped into his coat and looked down at Carly, "Bring her along Mr Hayes, she will fit nicely as a silent retainer and her friends will be able to see that she succeeded. For now."

He started towards the doors, mulling over the problem.

"The poor and destitute have their grants. Already they bring nothing to the economy and instead take from it."

Carly began her comeback without delay, "Not all the poor and destitute are such due to their own failures. Many have been screwed by--"

But she didn't get to finish as Parker held up a hand for silence and continued with his argument. When he asked if she would only have to kidnap Tara a second time, she told him firmly, "I keep my promises. Do as I say, and you will never hear or see from me and my associates again."

"Your plan sounds good, but it treats the symptom and not the problem."

Carly listened intently to Parker's argument as to the real problem and the real solution. She'd expected this, of course; she wasn't ignorant about how the financial world worked. Politicians were responsible for many if not most of the ills this country faced. But kidnapping a Senator's daughter wasn't going to make the difference she and hers wanted to see. Sure, there were a great many Senators -- and even some Congressmen -- who were millionaires, but how many of them were billionaires, with a b?

Besides, it was the rich and powerful who owned America's corrupt government. So, as far as Carly was concerned, it was the rich and powerful who should pay to fix America's problems. Sure, a billion dollars from Parker Hamilton wasn't going to cure much. In fact, it wasn't going to cure anything in the long run. But it just might make life more comfortable for enough people for enough time to make Carly feel as though she'd accomplished something significant.

Parker's comment about his own business practices was a stickler, though. He was right when he said he was a relatively fair businessman. But Carly had always had a problem with the massively super rich. Parker may have earned his money fairly and honestly. But did he really need that much? If he'd paid his workers just one more dollar an hour, their lives would have been significantly better. And he would still be a billionaire many times over.

No, Carly wasn't going to feel bad for what she was doing. Tara was going to be treated humanely, Parker was going to pony up the dough, and -- despite having said she wasn't taking a nickel -- Carly was going to take just enough of the ransom money to hide from Parker and the Authorities until the statute of limitations on the girl's kidnapping had run out.

"Bring her along Mr Hayes," Parker said after rising and donning his coat. "She will fit nicely as a silent retainer and her friends will be able to see that she succeeded. For now."

Hayes lifted the bound Carly from the bench, and the entire entourage made its way to the back alley, to where the limousine and its chase car had been moved.

Parker got into the waiting car and Hayes brought Carly into the opposite seat, as two security guards joined them.

"Get me home Mr Hayes."

Hayes in turn raised an eyebrow, "Is that wise sir?"

Parker shrugged, "Not like she doesn't know where I live Mr Hayes, it had been in the tabloids before."

The car pulled away and Parker crossed his legs, looking out of the window as they entered traffic.

One would expect a billionaire to have mansions, a dozen beach properties all over the world, golf estates, game and ski resorts. But Parker lived in a modest two storey home, secured of course, but nothing a man of normal means could not afford. He had a limousine, but it also was not one that would invite awe. He had various vehicles, but not what could be called a collection. In fact, if it wasn't for FORBES who kept placing him on their list, one could easily mistake Parker for a well-to-do businessman.

It all started when his father gave him five hundred dollars after graduation and told him to make something of himself. He had started at the bottom and through hard work, dedication he had worked himself through college, had started his small business and many times he had seen rock bottom before rising to what would be the top. Oh he will not disagree that he owned a lot of businesses, but all of them provided well for the communities they were in and of course gained him money, which only gave him enough capital to buy and develop more.

He turned his attention to Carly, he could see the shrewd inside her, he had seen it in many businessmen before and always managed to get away practically unscathed. Now he faced a dilemma of a different kind and even despite her protestations that she wanted no money for this, Parker knew that she wasn't doing this out of the goodness of her heart. If she even had one.

"Mr Hayes, phone ahead and have them ready the second guest room. As much as I want you to throw her in the cellar, she did promise good treatment for Tara so the least I can do is provide the same."

"Yes sir."

Parker found himself inspecting the boots Carly wore, just how dangerous were those? "Have you eaten yet Ms Connors?"

"Get me home Mr Hayes."

Carly didn't know whether to be surprised or not that Parker was taking her to his house. She wouldn't have blamed him at all if he'd taken her directly to the local police precinct, explained who she was and what she was doing, and asked the desk sergeant to toss her into their smallest, most dank cell. Or more ominous yet, dragged her out to a mosquito infested swamp, tied her to a tree, and beat her again and again and again over the days to come until she told them anything and everything she knew about Tara Hamilton's whereabouts.

Hayes' concern didn't surprise Carly at all, though. He was a true professional who would do anything and everything to protect his charge, in this case Parker Hamilton and, as an extension, Tara Hamilton as well. If she'd ended up bound to a Cypress, Carly would have expected the order to come from Robert Hayes.

She didn't know enough about Parker's Security Chief, which bothered her. He was former military, probably former Special Ops, maybe even Black Ops. He'd spent a little time in non-military Government service, too. But after that and until he'd come to work for Parker, his history was unknown. Carly couldn't know that Robert Hayes had left the Army to join, in succession, the Secret Service, the CIA, and then an anti-terrorism task force that had been so secretive that it didn't even have a three digit acronym to go with it.

It was only then that Hayes had come into the service of Parker Hamilton. The man had been looking for something a little more ... sane. And he'd gotten it, until now. Corporate security was a snap, relatively, to some of the stuff he'd been doing over the past 20+ years. Oh sure, there had been the occasional idiot who took a run at Parker over this business issue or that. Once a man attacked the billionaire as he was leaving a WTO discussion group. Initially it had been thought the man was one of those angry You're destroying the world with your greed types. In the end, it was uncovered that the man was a Schizo who had randomly attacked Parker because -- as was in the man's statement --his neck tie was broadcasting to the Neptunians who are trying to steal Earth's water.

Hayes had been praised for his actions during that incident. He'd quickly identified the attacker's state of mind and react accordingly. Robert hadn't beat the man down to the pavement or justifiably put a bullet through his chest. Instead, he'd gently but firmly held the man, as if dealing with a severely autistic child having a fit. Hayes had held him until paramedics could arrive, whispering kind thoughts to him the entire time.

"Have you eaten yet Ms Connors?"

Carly's thoughts were elsewhere. She very nearly missed the question. "I could eat."

Reaching the house, Parker gave instructions to Hayes. The latter escorted Carly upstairs and into a bedroom outside of which stood another member of Parker's security force. Carly winked at the new man as she passed into the room. But once inside, her full attention was on Hayes. He carried himself with professionalism and caution. Yet, he seemed to do it so easily. There wasn't a cell in that man's body that wasn't always and totally aware of everything happening around him.

"No offense, right, Robert?" Carly asked as she glanced around the bedroom. When he only glanced at her silently, she clarified, "At the restaurant. I was just messing with you. I get that way sometimes."

"This is your room ... until Mister Hamilton decides it isn't," he said. He was walking about, checking the space's contents. Before they'd even reached the house, Robert had already had the room cleared of most things Carly might try to make a weapon from. She couldn't know but would obviously expect that it had also quickly been equipped with cameras and/or microphones. "Be a good girl, and you'll be comfortable. Be bad..."

He let the threat hang. But Carly was smiling. "I'm always bad, Robert. But ... I know what you're saying. You have nothing to worry about. I'm not here to hurt anyone. I'm not going to try to escape. I'm just a liaison. Liaison... Isn't that the coolest of words?"

"Come with me," Hayes told her, turning to leave the room.

In the hall, Carly stopped to look up into the face of the man in the hall. Looking into his eyes but talking to Hayes, Carly asked, "So, if I get lonely tonight ... is it okay for beef cake here to come in an keep me warm?"

Hayes slowed, hesitated, and turned. "Miss Conners ... this is going to go a lot easier if you put all that rebel bullshit aside during your stay with us."

Carly turned and looked to the Security Chief for a moment. She smiled devilishly. "Fine. You're right. But ... for the hell of it ... can I have one last go at it?"

Hayes only stared at Carly. He knew he couldn't stop her. But at the same time he wasn't going to give her permission, per se. Carly looked to the second man in the hallway for a moment. Then she reached out to caress his groin with the back of the fingers of one hand. She found his flaccid cock, caressing it from head to base and back. She turned and walked toward Hayes.

"I hope I get cold tonight, 'cause he's packin' quite a gun," she said as she passed him. She gave him a devilish smirk, finishing, "Okay ... now I'm done."

Hayes led Carly to the study, it was of course filled with books, a heavy mahogany desk, comfortable leather chairs, a soft rug of nondescript make, a fireplace and a billionaire standing at the window looking out at the view outside.

Parker had changed into slacks and an oversized beige sweater, his feet for some strange reason bare. All-in-all, he cut a very weird picture against the one he was known by. He motioned to the desk on which stood a covered platter and Hayes removed Carly's restraints and moved to stand next to Parker, watching her impassively.

"The room is according to your standards?"

Hayes nodded

"And she will be comfortable enough?"

Hayes shrugged slightly, "She did wonder if a guard could keep her warm tonight."

Parker sighed and shook his head, "And I thought Tara's friends were bad."

Behind him Carly had removed the lid, provided her comments on the sandwiches and milk, but thankfully ate in relative silence.

"I want to throttle her you know? Wipe that smirk off of her face."

Hayes nodded, "Wisely you haven't sir. Though her manner does rub the wrong spots even if they are meant for the right spots."

Parker grunted and took a breath to calm himself. Somewhere out there, his daughter lay shackled to a bed and he had no way to save her unless he complied. Well, no way to save her yet. He knew that Hayes had contacts, that things could be arranged. Certain people witch certain skills could drug Carly and make her talk, could extract his daughter and bring her savely back to him.

But...

Anything could go wrong and the last thing he had that remembered him of his wife could be taken from him.

He closed his eyes and breathed a sigh.

Hayes wisely remained silent.

"The room is according to your standards?"

Carly looked to Parker. She'd thought he was speaking to her, about the offered comfort level. He wasn't. Parker had been asking Hayes. Which meant he'd been referring to the security level. Cameras... she again thought to herself. She still couldn't be certain. But, if she had been in Parker and Hayes's places, she would have wanted 24/7 visual and audio on her.

Then, Parker touched on Carly's first thought. "And she will be comfortable enough?"

"She did wonder if a guard could keep her warm tonight."

Carly tried to stifle her spontaneous giggle but failed. She glanced their way from the platter of food. Her first instinct was to be herself. But she'd promised Hayes that she would be a good girl.

"And I thought Tara's friends were bad."

Carly prevented her laugh this time. She felt for Parker Hamilton when it came to his daughter. Carly and her team had been following the teen's public exploits for years. (The only thing spontaneous about the kidnapping was having had to find a way to deal with the recently injected trackers.) During that time, Carly had seen Tara progressively attempting to fit more and more adult activity into the day's limited amount of hours. Partying, drinking, men (and women!), drugs ... even crime. Oh, she was no master criminal. Breaking and entering once; vandalism another time.

The only time Tara had actually been caught by the authorities was after she and some friends -- all high, of course -- stole an ice cream truck at two in the morning. They'd driven it -- with the music blaring through the darkness -- to one of the very destitute neighborhoods to which Parker's trucks would be delivering groceries. There, the six of them -- with one behind the wheel calling out over the loud speaker -- left Big Sundae Cups and Lemon Ices and Crunch Bars and Neapolitan Freezes on the stoops of dozens of houses before a pair of patrol cars finally brought them to a stop.

"I want to throttle her you know?" Carly heard Parker saying softly to Hayes. "Wipe that smirk off of her face."

Carly wondered whether or not the comments had been meant for her to hear. Maybe. Maybe not. Didn't matter. She was determined to wipe that smirk away herself. She needed the two of them to know how serious she was about what she and her people were doing. And grabbing the groins of Hayes's subordinates wasn't going to accomplish that.

As if reading Parker's mind, Carly offered between bites of crust-free sandwich squares, "I don't know where your daughter is."

When Parker turned to look at her, Carly continued, "We knew that you might try to get Tara's location out of me. Torture ... drugs ... threats against my family. By the way, I have none. Family. Not anymore."

She said the last with just a hint of sorrow.

"So ... after I removed the trackers from Tara's arm and leg..." Again she hesitated, admitting, "Yes, I cut your daughter open. But ... I knew what I was doing ... and she didn't feel a thing."

Carly caught Hayes's expression. And she knew what he was thinking: So, you have medical training ... interesting ... a lead. Carly realized immediately that that had been a mistake. Would the Security Chief be able to connect her failure to become a get through medical school to anything that might lead them to Tara? She doubted it, but ... well, the man was a professional with untold contacts in high places.

Carly continued, "My cohorts went one way, and I went another. I don't know what vehicle they used, so you can't get that out of me. I don't know which direction they went ... how far they went ... where they ended up. I don't know anything that will help you find your daughter, Par-- Mister Hamilton."

She took another bite of a little sandwich as she crossed closer to him. "All I can tell you is this. Tomorrow, if those cohorts of mine don't see your trucks hauling packages out of your warehouses ... you'll get a package of your own. Tara's pinky toe in a little box."

Carly gave them a moment to consider whether or not the threat was real, then very sincerely said, "Parker ... I don't want to hurt your daughter. I mean that. I really do. Just ... just do as we say ... please. I know you don't agree with my-- our methods. But ... it is what it is."

She sipped from the bottle of juice she'd opened, then stifled a yawn. "I know I have no right to ask this ... but I need some sleep. It's been a busy day for all of us."

Parker rounded on Carly and for a moment Hayes feared the worst. Parker was a man who had infinite patience and a lot of self-control, but the one thing that broke through all his defenses was his daughter Tara.

Parker took that step that separated him from Carly in pure anger, he knew it reflected in his whole being.

"Please? You dare... You DARE to say please, act concerned and threaten me?"

He shoved a finger into her shoulder, "I am a man of my word woman."

Parker managed to get a grip on himself then and clenched his jaw, not moving away from Carly. Not yet.

"You have kidnapped a person. Locked her up. Taken her away from everything and you want to keep her there for a hundred days. A HUNDRED days, for something that could have been sorted out in even two days."

He pushed passed her then, "Mr Hayes, take her to her room and make sure she has something to sleep in and enough blankets."

Parker closed the door behind him with a loud crash and went over to the pictures on the wall of his office. He knew that he would get little to no sleep tonight.