Her Swedish Billionaire's Baby(43)

 

Alison shook her head in annoyance. “It doesn’t work like that dad,” she scolded.

 

“Yeah. I figured. Anyway, so we need to do this fast.”

 

“Okay. I’ll be in touch.”

 

 

 

Alison called Chris three days later to let him know the operation was a go and that he should go in at exactly 3:30pm. She and Samara would be out of the house for an hour shopping at the nearest Whole Foods. Chris was nervous but excited. He had the leather gloves and the combination to the safe. It was time to get paid.

 

He drove to the back entrance of the building, being careful to avoid cameras. He unlocked the service entrance and made his way up the stairs listening carefully for any sounds of another presence in the apartment. He followed Alison’s instructions carefully, counting steps like she’d told him to. Pretty soon he came up to a section of blank cream wall. He felt along the side until he felt the slight protrusion. He pressed down on it and the wall silently parted in two to reveal an iron safe.

 

He stopped for a minute to do a celebratory dance before he dug into his pockets, to get the slip of paper with the combination. He pressed in the numbers, holding his breath in trepidation; not sure if it would work or not. He pressed in the last number and waited, hardly daring to breath. There was a sound like pressure being released and then the door separated. Chris reached slowly for the handle, pulling the door open.

 

When he saw what was inside he couldn’t help the whoop of joy that went through him. A stack of bills at the back and various velvet pouches in front. He opened one to observe jewels of various types winking at him from inside. Just one of these pouches would probably set him up for life. excitedly he poked around at the other containers and fingered the stack of cash. He would give Alison one stack, say that was all there was. Maybe a jewel or two. The rest he would keep and trade as necessary. He brought one of the velvet pouches to his lips and kissed it.

 

“Finally Chris. We made it,” he said to himself before leaning forward and scooping everything into his back pack. He closed the safe back and then returned the hiding place back to its original state. He retraced his steps, almost skipping with excitement as he made his way out.

 

He opened the service door and looked up to find the barrel of a gun in his face.

 

“Freeze. Police.”

 

 

 

Chris Khaled was handcuffed to the table at the station, as an officer brought him a cup of coffee and placed it down next to him.

 

“Mr. Khaled we’ve checked out your story with your daughters. Neither of them have the combination to the safe you claim they sent you to rob. I’ve had confirmation of that from the owner of the safe, Mr. Bjorn Fredriksen. Sooo, I don’t know if you’re ready to tell us who really sent you to rob him?”

 

Chris shouted, “They’re setting me up! I’m telling you! They are setting me up! This wasn’t my idea.”

 

“Is that so? Because these people who you claim set you up have hired a lawyer for you,” the officer said.

 

“What?”

 

“Yeah. He’s setting up your bail hearing as we speak.”

 

“What the fuck.”

 

 

 

“Bail is set at 600,000 dollars,” the judge said banging his gavel. Chris slumped in his seat. He did not have that kind of cash.

 

“Mr. Khaled, you’re free to go,” his lawyer said and Chris looked up at him in shock.

 

“I’m free…to go?”

 

“Yeah. Your daughter paid your bail.”

 

“Oh.”

 

Chris stood up and walked slowly out of the court room. His head was ringing with the conversations he’d had with his lawyer.

 

“Ten to twenty years….parole not guaranteed…”

 

He’d managed to avoid jail for thirty years. The last time he’d seen the inside of a jail cell was juvie. He couldn’t go back. He just…couldn’t.

 

Chris Khaled took the next bus out of town. He disappeared without a trace.

 

 

 

“You think we’ll ever see him again?” Samara asked Alison as she walked her up and down, rubbing her back gently.

 

“I don’t know. I doubt it,” Alison replied. “Anyway, that’s not what’s important.”

 

“True that,” Amy said from her seat on Samara’s hospital bed. “We gotta get this baby out safe.”

 

Bjorn made a pained noise in the corner. He was the palest in the room and not just because his skin was the whitest. He’d already thrown up twice. Amy got down from the bed and went to rub his back.