Mexican?”
She tamped down her anger and frustration. She so didn’t need this right now.
“I was generous letting you have the boy.” His blue eyes flashed. “But you ain’t takin’ too good care of him. Maybe when they find him, I’ll take him home with me.”
Her heart clenched, a brand-new wave of fear obliterating all other emotion. She’d been given sole custody, but only because Gary agreed. If he brought it to a fight…
She would smile if it killed her. “Please.” She tried to placate him, the role she’d grown into over the years.
And not for the first time, she considered that maybe she should have been fighting all along. Maybe she should be yelling back that he’d given up Christopher only because he didn’t feel like taking care of him. He didn’t want to be staying home instead of hitting the bars, didn’t feel like giving up his beer money to support his son. But she had, from the beginning, always chosen the path of backing down, of accommodation, because giving Christopher a home with as much peace and normalcy as possible had always been her first priority. So she had compromised, had put on a good face and covered up for Gary as much as she’d been able to.
“Please,” she said again. “We agreed. You don’t have time to watch him. You’re looking for a job. I’ll ask Flint to help.” Preferably out of state. “Please.”
“Please like hell!” he shouted and grabbed the end of the table, sending the two mugs crashing to the floor, tipping the table after them.
The door slammed open the next second, startling her worse than the table had. She had expected that. But she hadn’t expected Akeem, who stood in the doorway with the sun at his back. His gaze went to Gary first, then to her.
“You need any help in here?” He stepped inside, his shoulders held rigid, his jaw tight.
A whole new level of tension filled the air as she looked between the two.
A dangerous glint was coming into Gary’s eyes as he stepped forward. “Yeah. You can help by getting the hell out of my business and staying the hell away from my woman.”
She could smell the fighting hormones in the air and couldn’t fully trust the men to control themselves. “Just bumped into the table. It was an accident.” She stepped between the two.
Akeem said nothing, just straightened the table then squatted for the china shards, placing them in his palm. It appeared that, for her sake, he wasn’t going to push the situation, but he wasn’t going to leave her alone with Gary again, either.
Which meant that Gary shouldn’t stay. She couldn’t count on him not to pick a fight, and she couldn’t handle that now on top of everything else. But she couldn’t in good conscience send him home in his car. He was a jerk, but he was Christopher’s father. And even if he weren’t, nobody should drive in his condition. Him not caring about his own life was one thing, but there were others on the road.
She glanced toward the main house through the open door where the cops were probably all set up for whatever call might come in. God, she couldn’t think about that. She pressed the heel of her palm to her sternum. She wanted to stay here, needed to stay here. She took Gary by the elbow. “I’ll get someone to drive you home.”
He shrugged her off. “Like hell,” he muttered and was about to say more, but her cell phone’s sharp ring cut him off.
Everyone went still, the tension doubling in the room, which was a feat, all considered. Her fingers trembled as she flipped the phone open and lifted it to her ear.
“I want you to bring the cash to Route 109, keep driving until further instruction. We’ll be expecting you on Thursday morning, at seven. Come alone or your son dies. Tell anyone and your son dies. Be late and your son dies. Get the picture here?”
Her throat was so tight she could barely say the single word, “Yes.”
Today was Monday, was all she could think. She couldn’t bear the thought of them having Christopher for three more days. He was just a little kid. Didn’t they realize what they were doing to him? Didn’t they know that he might never fully recover from this ordeal? And even three days…
“I don’t think I can get that much money that fast.” She knew for sure, in fact. Flint had money and would give it to her without question—and this once, she wasn’t too proud to ask—but he didn’t keep his money in cash. She knew—she handled his accounts. He kept some cash for emergencies but nowhere near two million dollars. His money was in horses and land, neither of which could be made liquid in a matter of days.
“You want your kid back, you get the damn money!” The man was shouting now.
Then Akeem was there, taking the phone from her before she realized what he was doing. Alarm snapped through her. This was her son, her business. She didn’t trust anyone with this but herself. She grabbed after the phone, missed as he turned. Oh, God. They couldn’t afford to do anything to upset the man on the other end. She clutched Akeem’s arm, scared breathless.
“No, I’m not a cop. I’m your money man. You can have the money today. You tell me where, and I’ll bring the ransom,” he was saying.
She couldn’t hear what the man responded on the other end.
“If you want the money, I’ll drive her.” Akeem’s voice was hard power.
He listened again.
This was so not going to work. Whoever had her son was the one calling the shots. They shouldn’t have done anything to make them angry. If this hurt Christopher, she could never forgive—
“That’s the deal,” Akeem was saying, then after a moment, “Okay. We’ll be there.”
“What happened?” Her hand shook as she reached for the closed phone. The call was over. And once again she hadn’t gotten to ask to speak to her son. She could have cried with frustration and fear.
“The exchange will be tomorrow morning at seven. It’s the best he would agree to,” Akeem said.
She caught her breath at the sudden ray of hope and felt the anger leak out of her. He had somehow worked it so that her son would be home sooner. Still, every minute stretched like an eternity before her, could bring new dangers to Christopher. But sooner was better.
“I’ll drive you.” Concern for her sat in his eyes. “I’m sorry I couldn’t do better. They wouldn’t let me go alone. They want you there.”
She wouldn’t let him go alone, either. Christopher was her son. A minefield couldn’t have kept her away from him. But there were other obstacles.
“The money—”
“Don’t worry about the money.” He dismissed that with a shrug, as if two million dollars was nothing to lose sleep over.
“I’m the father. I’ll be driving. He’s my son. I’ll damn well be there.” Gary had apparently figured out what was going on, and for a moment he even managed to look together and almost heroic. Then a sly look came over his face. “How much money?”
Akeem said nothing, wouldn’t even look at
