Billionaire Ghost Tour - Stephanie Fowers Page 0,38
to this deal—the cure his company had touted for so long wouldn’t go through without this partnership. His father would double her alimony to avoid being bothered right now.
His stepmother shook her head. “Make this happen or she dies,” she whispered hoarsely.
Janson straightened. She’d gone insane. “Actually that’s what I wanted to talk to you about. How’s eleven? This is pretty important.”
“Twelve would be easier.”
“Twelve will be too late. It really needs to be eleven.”
His father groaned. “I’ll think about it. I’ll call you later tonight, okay.”
“I can’t...”
His father hung up. “What did he say?” Katherine hissed.
“He said he’d call me later tonight to let me know.”
She snatched the phone from him. “I guess we’ll have to keep you here awhile longer.”
Vin wasn’t happy about the pronouncement. He dropped Mollie’s arm to argue with Katherine. “We don’t have all night.”
“I don’t care,” she said. “Make it work.” She stuffed Janson’s cell phone into Vin’s hands. “Charge that. We want to make sure Janson gets that call.”
“Katherine...” Janson wasn’t sure how to get more information out of her, but he was suspicious she meant for this to get violent. “I won’t answer that call if you’re going to hurt him.”
“You’re the only one in danger, sweetheart. Happy? So you’d better get your father to work with us if you want to live. Clearly, Freddy doesn’t care enough about Harry, so we’ll see how much he’ll give me for you.” So a ransom? His stepmother had gone mad. She’d never get away with this.
Vin glowered at Katherine. “The less he knows, the better.”
“I think we’ll get him to cooperate after this.” Katherine swept out the door and Vin followed her as they argued over the details. Dwayne shoved the door shut behind him to seal his captives back into the catacombs.
Janson let out a groan. Mollie scrambled to his side. “I can help you. When I was dating Scooby, we went four-wheeling and he dislocated his shoulder, too. He didn’t want his dad to know, so I...”
He couldn’t concentrate on what she was saying, only that she was offering to help. He nodded tiredly. “Just do it.”
His skin had an unnaturally pale pallor and tingled oddly. Mollie adjusted his arm so that it lay straight against the ground, and then she pushed nervously to her feet and took a hold of his wrist with both hands. She slowly moved his arm in a circular motion while she lifted it up towards his head. The movement felt excruciating, but more bearable than he’d thought. Her hands were firm, but gentle as she brought his arm up to a 90-degree angle, still rotating his arm in place. His arm was almost at a 120 degree angle when he felt his shoulder joint move into place. He let out a relieved grunt. How had she done that? The procedure wasn’t as violent as the movies, the recovery not as fast either. It had stopped tingling, and his skin was already gaining back its pink color, but he didn’t feel much better. He wouldn’t until he got out of here.
She joined him on the floor, those pretty knees of hers digging into the dust. She dragged her jacket over and started to make a sling out of it. The hoody was perfect for supporting his bent arm, though the cheetah print was a little much. She tied it off. “How do you feel?”
“Yeah... I’ll live, it’s just that...” I have panic attacks because I have Cleisiophobia. And nope, he wasn’t saying that aloud. Ever. He hated what it did to him, hated his weakness. Admitting the truth only made it real. He just wanted to be rid of it, so that he could defeat the overcharging neurons in his brain and figure out how his stepmother thought she could get away with this.
Mollie shivered in that damp dress of hers. She must be freezing. He caught her arm, pulling her next to him. His fingers slid past that red hair before he ran his palms down the raised skin of her arms to keep her warm. He was desperate for relief, and holding her comforted him, too.
She settled beside him, and they both watched the door.
CHAPTER ELEVEN
Something was wrong with Janson. His fingers trailed through her hair almost like he needed to feel the strands to ground himself; his breathing came out too ragged as he fought for each snatch of air. He wasn’t talking, and not knowing how else to help him, she let him