Two hours earlier
I have my arms around Lucian, who has finally fallen asleep, his body lax against mine. Rosa is in the car riding shotgun beside Romero, who has his fingers clenched around the wheel.
“Can you go faster?” Rosa snaps at him, her body bent forward, her phone pressed to her ears.
“I’m going as fast as I can. Unless you want to explain to the Capo why his wife and kids were found in a ditch somewhere.” Romero snaps back, throwing her a sharp glare. She grimaces and looks away, frowning.
Whoever she’s trying to reach on the phone must not be getting through because she takes the phone from her ears, her hands wrapped tight around it like it’s a neck she wants to squeeze. “Good gracious. Why the hell do they never take up the fucking phone.”
“Language Rosa!” I lean forward to glare at her, too, my nerves stretched taut. She lifts her hands in the air, throws me a look of apology, and taps at the phone again, placing it right back against her ears.
She growls and jerks the phone from her ears, throwing it into the console. “Something’s very wrong. I can feel it in my guts. We need to get these two to safety right now.”
Romero presses down on the gas, and I run my fingers through Lucian’s hair, praying in my heart that he stays asleep through all this. “Where’s Xander?”
Rosa doesn’t mince words. “Killing the Russians. I should be there too, but as per the boss’ instructions, you’re more of a priority.”
She says the words begrudgingly with no rancor in her tone. Her eyes are on the road as we hurry home, and I add another line to my mantra of prayers. I pray he comes home safe to me.
We arrive home, and the gate opens automatically, as always. We go up the driveway, Romero’s eyes darting right and left. We’re almost at the door when I notice the cars. The only problem is none of the three look familiar, and none of our men are standing guard.
Rosa must notice the same thing because she stills and winds her glass down. “Where are the men? There should be at least three in sight.”
She’s barely spoken the words before the sound of footsteps hits my ears. I gasp and hug Lucian tighter against me. He heaves out a long breath and shifts restlessly in my arms, and I pray he really doesn’t wake up now.
Romero finally turns to me. His eyes are hard. “Get off the seat. Get on the floor. Don’t move. Not a sound.”
He opens the door and steps out just as I push off the chair carefully with Lucian in my arms. I’m sweating, the air sticking in my throat, my blood pumping a million times a minute.
The sound of voices and footsteps comes closer. In a minute, the passenger car door snaps closed and I know Rosa has left the car too.
I shudder as I stay hidden in the car but soon, the footsteps head towards the car. Towards me.
The tears pool in my ears and I bite my lip to hold back the cry in my throat. I’m mewling softly when the door opens, and someone barks an order I can’t hear. Hot air sweeps into the car interior, and I stifle the sob building in my chest.
I quiver, suddenly cold, folding my body around my son, who snuggles into me for safety I can’t offer. The man grunts and growls at me. “Get out or I’ll take you out myself.”
I lift my head slowly and look up into laughing eyes. It’s the man with the flask, which he still has in his left hand. He curls his lips and indicates that I step out.
I beg with my eyes and my words. “Please, not my son. Whatever you want with me is fine, but not my son.”
He chuckles, but his eyes flash wickedly. “Anything I want with you, huh?”
My heart seizes at his tone.
I lift my chin. “Just leave my son alone.”
“We’ll see about that,” he says with a dark chuckle.
I step out of the car, holding Lucian. I can feel him stirring and I hope he’s not waking up. I look down to find Rosa flat on the floor.
There’s blood dripping from her shoulder, and she’s groaning and grunting, but I know she’s not going anywhere without help. Her gun is gone… and I don’t see Romero anywhere.
The man fists his hand in my hair and tries to take Lucian from me but I tighten my arms and he lets go, instead jerking his head to indicate that I move. My heart sinks, and I want to scream at him to leave us alone.
Lucian is wiggling in my arms, and definitely awake. “Mommy, what’s going on?”
“Daddy has some friends over,” I say, hoping that he won’t notice the fact that they’re distinctly not friendly.
The man’s lips curl into a smile. “Yes, we’re all just friends.”
The color leaks from my face, and I want to strike him, want to sink my hands into his shirt, and claw that look of superiority off his fucking face.
He walks into the house, leading three other men who all have weapons in their hands. I almost shout when we make it inside.
Only the thought of my son in my arms keeps the scream from exploding out of my lips. Romero is hog-tied, blood dripping from his forehead. He’s not moving, and I think he’s dead. Because of me.
I hold Lucian close so he can’t see.
The man holds out his hands, and smirks. “Hand him over.”
“Lucian…”
“Hi,” Lucian says. “Who are you?”
“A friend,” the man says.
The glint in his eyes tells me I need to let go, so I do.
He takes my son from me finally and I cry softly, the tears dripping down my face. If I survive this moment, I know this man is surely going to be hurt badly. By me. But if he hits or hurts my son, I’m going to kill him.
“Not my son,” I whisper again.
“I heard you. I’ll take that deal. How about you go upstairs with one of daddy’s friends, and you can watch a movie? How does that sound?” he asks Lucian.
“Okay,” Lucian blinks.
My son is too trusting.
The man looks at me. “See? Not your son. But you…”
My heart crumples.
It gets even worse when he swings his head to a woman who steps out of the hallway and nods to him. He growls at her, his brow hitched in question. ‘Is the room ready?’
She sends me a long look and then holds her hands out for my son. ‘Yes.’
