by Vonnie Davis
“I’ll explain on the way.” The man, who evidently had an aversion to soap and water, shoved her into the interior of the vehicle. Once he’d pushed her into a seat, the door closed, and the van took off. “Buckle up, Ivy. Your nightmare is about to begin.”
He was so right. Every second since the moment he’d grabbed her had been terrifying. She couldn’t help worrying about her son. Was Quinn okay? Who was taking care of him? Was he as scared as she was?
Ivy hobbled to the room’s only window. The thick rope that tied her to the bed was long enough to allow her to reach and use the bathroom. Just her luck it was three feet shy of reaching the door to whatever lay beyond.
She moved one of the thick wooden slats of the blinds and put her nose to the hole in the glass. She inhaled fresh, humid air with the fish and brine odors of the ocean. If only she could open them, but the cords had been removed that opened and raised the blinds.
The building next to hers was about six feet away and a sun-faded turquoise. This structure she was held captive in was coral. She could count five floors in the one next to her, so she figured she was on the fifth floor of this one. Too high to jump and the exterior stucco walls were too rough to climb down.
What about climbing up? The roof of the turquoise house appeared flat edged with an intricate wrought iron railing. Was this building built the same way? Could she do anything as physical as climbing with a bruised body and no shoes?
On her flight here in a private plane, she’d been gagged and tied up. Once her captives got her off the plane, they pushed a black hood over her head so she couldn’t see where she was being driven. The smelly criminals had dragged her up the flights of steps, bruising her knees and shins and knocking off her high heels. After tying a rope around her ankle, they secured the other end to the bed frame. Then they removed the hood. The room was dark, so she stood, too afraid to get near the bed, fearful of what they would do to her next.
To her surprise, they exited the room and locked the door. In a whoosh of relief, she collapsed onto the bed. She pressed her nose to the bedding and it smelled freshly laundered. Thank God for that. After worrying over her little boy, she finally drifted off. Her dreams that night were of her SEAL giant. Her six-foot-six Dom. Of his coming to rescue her, whispering to her, and then suddenly taking on the face of a Columbian madman with a gun to her son’s head. She sat straight up in bed, sweating, gasping for air, sobbing over how her stupid ambition might have put her child in harm’s way. What kind of mother had she been?
She swung her legs over the side of the bed; the rope around her ankle chaffed her skin. With the heels of her hands pressed to her eyes, she cursed her actions blinded by ambition. Was bringing down this cartel so freaking important? At the time, she believed it was. She wanted to make the streets of her city safer. But maybe, just maybe, she also wanted to make a name for herself. A chance at running for District Attorney.
Damn my blind ambition.
All she’d done with her constant snooping and asking questions was open Pandora’s Box. Now look where she was? Torn away from her son. Today had been his birthday and she’d missed it. Would little Quinn ever forgive her? Could he understand she had no choice?
During her first two days here, her captives yelled insults and questions at her. They’d spat on her face and beaten her, but she’d kept defiantly quiet.
The third day, they’d stripped her naked, tied ropes around her wrists, and hung her from rafters in the basement, whipping her with rubber hoses. To further humiliate her, the men groped her with their grimy fingers. She shuddered in revolt at the memory.
When they’d dragged her back into this room and knotted the rope around her ankle again, she used every ounce of willpower to crawl to the shower. She allowed the hot water to sting all the oncoming bruises. What she wanted was to rid her skin from traces of their touching her, especially in her vagina.
She spoke Spanish, so could understand their threats and jokes. The men who beat her kept talking about how she’d pay when the boss Gilberto Muñoz arrived to fuck her in the ass to get the information he wanted. Her extensive research on Gilberto proved he wasn’t a man to be messed with and she quaked at the thought of his coming anywhere near her.
She kept praying the criminals—no, animals—that held her prisoner and tortured her for the past four days would never learn she had a son. They would capture him and threaten his life at which point she’d tell then all she knew. She’d give the names of the two men who had supplied her with information about the cartel, which would be the same as signing their death warrant and hers. Oh God, why hadn’t she paid more attention to Athena’s warnings?
Instead, she was in a Columbian hell. In a world of hurt.
Where was her son? Was he safe?
CHAPTER FOUR
ZQ and JJ trod toward Grey and Athena’s house, still discussing how ZQ would need to compartmentalize himself for the upcoming mission. JJ opened the back door and ZQ stepped inside. Both their hosts were in the kitchen, concern on their faces.
Grey’s narrowed eyes slowly registered the realization of the facts. His gaze ricocheted from the youngster next to him to ZQ and back to the boy again. “I will be damned,” he said slowly.
The dark-haired child stepped behind Grey, as if he were scared. Even so, he kept peeking with wide brown eyes around Grey’s leg to study ZQ. I’ve seen that face before in my Kindergarten picture Mom has in a frame at the ranch.
“Quinn, no need to hide.” Grey edged the boy from behind him. “Come say hello to ZQ. He’s a friend of mine.”
He stepped around Grey. He widened his little stance, crossed his arms and stared.
“Fuck me blind,” JJ whispered. “There’s no doubt in my mind. The kid’s even got your hell raising stance down. Damn, must be in your Apache DNA.”
ZQ’s chest swelled with pride. He had a son. “Go inform the others, but tell them not to overwhelm the kid and to give us some time.”
“Yes, sir.” JJ jogged down the steps.
A Native voice ZQ used to hear every night at bedtime beat through his veins. “You are my son. Flesh of my flesh, bone of my bone, blood of my blood. Your spirit is strong like mine. Like our people who walked Mother Earth before us. You make me proud.” His Apache father, Austin Eagle-Feather Quinlan, was the best dad a kid could ask for. ZQ realized he was trembling, humbled by this little boy, who in some ways reminded him of his father.
I’m gonna need your help here, Dad. Even if you are on the other side. Help me be half the father you were.
“I’m pleased to meet you, Quinn. You’re a strong-looking boy for a four-year-old.”
Little Quinn tugged on the hem of Grey’s shorts and whispered something to him.
“Quinn wants to know if you’ll come down to his size. Looking up at you hurts his neck.”
Shit, why hadn’t he thought of that? He had a lot to learn. “Yeah, I’m a six-foot-six mass of quivering jello right about now.”
Athena pointed a finger at ZQ. “So you’re the man who hurt—” Grey wrapped his arm around her and whispered in her ear. The woman didn’t look too happy. She jerked out of his embrace. “I helped Ivy through labor until she couldn’t take the pain anymore and had to have a c-section. I walked the floor with Quinn when he suffered with ear infections and taught him how to throw a ball. Where the hell was he?” Her accusing finger aimed at ZQ again.
“In a state of total ignorance, believe me. Or hell couldn’t have kept me away.” He dropped to his knees and smiled at his son, wearing a red t-shirt with a black Darth Vadar decal on it and khaki cargo shorts.
Quinn slowly walked to stand between ZQ’s spread knees. The child shyly studied his face and with a small index finger trailed the scar through ZQ’s thick eyebrow. “Ebwy night, I ask my mommy to tell me my daddy stowy.”
“Oh? What story does she tell you?” That I’m a no good ass who ran out on her?
“My daddy is a giant Apache with dawk hair and bwack ey
es. He wouldn’t wet anyone hurt her. ՚Cause—” he swallowed in childhood excitement, “—՚cause he was weal strong. He has a scar thwough his eyebrow and a deep waugh because he’s nice.” He got quiet and stared at his sandals. “See my new shoes?” He stuck out a foot and put his hand on ZQ’s shoulder to balance himself.
The new father tried to keep up with the jump in conversation topic and nodded so the boy would keep talking. “They’re Spidewman sandals. Wook. See him shoot out his web?”
What a kid. What a sweet kid. ZQ laughed. “Yes, I see them. I like Spidey.”
“Mommy says my daddy does, too. I’ve wanted to see my daddy for a wong time.” He stared deep into ZQ’s eyes. “Mommy says it’s wong to wie.” He took a deep breath. “Aw you my daddy?”
“Yes, I am.” The kid didn’t waste any time getting to the heart of the matter. Did he feel a connection? There was so little of his mother in him. His physical features were all ZQ’s.
“Where have you been?” The child’s chin jutted as if he’d born the pain of his dad’s absence. As if he’d been rejected.
It was an honest question his son certainly deserved the answer to. One that made him feel lower than a snake’s stomach. Could he make this child understand?
He shifted, stretching out his legs. “I had to go fight the enemy. I was in a country on the other side of the world when I got part of my foot shot off. Then I was in the hospital for a long time, learning how to walk with an artificial foot.” He wasn’t so sure his boy would understand all that.
Quinn sat cross-legged between ZQ’s feet and looked at his identical boots. “Show me.”
That’s it kid; never take anyone’s word without seeing some proof. ZQ unlaced the boot over his prosthesis and pulled it off. Then he removed his sock. His son leaned forward and touched the molded plastic foot.
“I have two more, Quinn. One style for running and another for swimming.”
The child kept rubbing ZQ’s fake foot and where it attached to his leg. His gase zeroed onto ZQ’s. “Did you mean what you said? Are you weally my daddy?” He stood, his little body almost trembling with eagerness.
“I wouldn’t lie to you, son. You’re my boy.”
Quinn gasped and threw himself at ZQ. He put a chokehold of skinny arms around his neck—and his heart. “At wast I get to meet my daddy!”
ZQ wiped moisture from his cheeks. “Yes, son. And I get to meet you.” In that special moment, he learned the true meaning of love at first sight.
Quinn burrowed his face against ZQ’s neck. “Someone took my mommy. Will you get her back fow me? I miss hew.”
Grey’s cell rang and he walked into the living room to talk.
“Daddy”—and didn’t that sound hellacious strange coming from his lips?—“is here with some friends to go find her and bring her back to you. I can’t promise, but we’ll do our very best. Okay?”
Grey handed him a piece of paper on which he’d scribbled. “Quinn’s babysitter stopped by Ivy’s house to get him a toy he’s been asking for. The place was ransacked. Two pictures of Quinn were taken off shelves. Now the abductors know about him.”
Temper and fear joined hands and rippled through his system. No one. Dammit to hell, no one would touch his son. He’d do his best to keep him safe. He stood with his arms around the boy and silently paced—one boot on, one off—as he kept kissing Quinn’s hair, face and neck, trying his best to make up for all the kisses in this little boy’s life he’d missed.
Think! Think, man, think. How are you going to protect him? How? The ranch.
He could contact U.S. Marshal Clint Silver, who lived in Warrior Falls a small town near his ranch. Clint was used to taking people into the witness protection program. Although this was a different circumstance, maybe he could talk Athena into flying along with little Quinn to Texas. He nodded. Yes. Yes, that would work.
“Hey,” he whispered in Quinn’s ear. “Are you monkey enough to crawl around to my back and wrap your arms and legs around me for a while?”
Quinn giggled as he squirmed into position.
“I think that’ll be my secret nickname for you. Monkey.”
“Will you stay wif us now? Mommy said you were a special soldier.”
Grey guffawed at the soldier versus sailor insult. “Him a soldier?”
ZQ flipped the page over his friend had handed him earlier and started writing. “No, Monkey. I was a special sailor. The best kind. A SEAL.”
A small dark head leaned into ZQ’s peripheral vision. “Mommy takes me to the Aquawium sometimes to wook at the fishes. I seen seals der. You don’t wook wike dem.”
“You’re right. I don’t, but I can swim just as good. A sailor is a type of warrior who fights mostly on the water. The best sailors get to fight on the sea, in the air, and on land. That’s why we’re called SEALs, because the places we work spell out the word ‘SEAL.’ It’s like a nickname.”
“But…but will you stay wif us wike Jacob’s daddy does wif dem?”
Hell, right now his boy was no longer safe in his own house. Maybe even in all of Tampa. “Well, we’ll see. Mommy and I have a lot of talking to do.” He slapped the paper on the kitchen island in front of Athena and Grey. Their heads came together like magnets while they examined it. At one point, Athena glanced at ZQ with daggers of anger shooting from her eyes before she continued to read.
He leaned and grabbed Quinn, shifting him around before tossing him in the air. The owners of the Omega Team discussed the validity of his ideas while high-pitched, childhood giggling bounced off the walls.
Evidently the laughter cued the guys in the basement they could make an appearance now. JJ had Nance on a leash when all the men came up the steps. His team lined up, at attention. “Men, I want you to meet my son, Quinn.” Pride filled ZQ’s words, almost to the point of choking. He placed the boy on the floor in front of him and wrapped his hands across his narrow chest, pulling him back against his legs. “Monkey, can you go to each SEAL and shake his hand? All of them are Daddy’s friends.”
“Can you make dem get down lowew?”
ZQ laughed. “To your knees, men. You tall dudes make my son’s neck hurt.”
While Quinn was busy, he put his sock and boot back on before he turned his attention to Athena. She’d be the one to convince to his scheme. No doubt, she’d balk. “What do you two think?”
Her hand rose to her hip. “I think I can fly a little boy to Austin without the help of a U.S. Marshal. I’ll stay at the ranch with Quinn. Ivy would want me to do that.”
“You know Ivy. I know Rose. Same woman; different situations. I defer to your judgment. I’ll have Clint pick you two up at the airport. Can you get online and order tickets for you and Quinn so I can give Clint an arrival time when I call him?” She nodded and strode for the bank of computers in the living room. ZQ followed her and slapped his charge card next to her keyboard. “Use this as payment. Grey, do you have a burner I can use?”
First he texted Clint using his own phone. “Incoming call on burner. It’s me. Important.” He waited a minute and dialed Clint’s number on the throw-away phone.
“Hello? Son, what’s going on?” The man’s authoritative voice boomed over the wireless.
“Are you ready for this?” He glanced in the kitchen and smiled at his son rubbing his fingers through Titan’s stiff red curls. Titan discreetly gave the rest of the guys the finger when they laughed at Quinn’s reaction to his stiff hair. “Before I left for Afghanistan, the mission where I lost my foot, I was dating a very special woman.”
Clint coughed. “Uh-huh. Dating or dominating?”
Well hell, did he have “Dom” tattooed on his forehead? “She knew I was a SEAL, but not my rank. I told her my name was Quinn. She told me her name was Rose.”
“I’m gonna need a beer for this, aren’t I?”
“When my unit was called up, all I could tell her was I was leaving on a mission. Neither one of us knew she was pregnant.”
“Two
beers,” Clint sighed.
“When we lost touch, she moved to Tampa, became an Assistant D. A.”
“Three beers and you better give me her name.” The marshal would evidently look the woman up. The man had a lot of information at his disposal.
“Ivy Rosemoor.” He spelled out the last name. “While you’re at it, look up the Muñoz cartel and Cartagena.”
“What does she have to do with that gang of cut-throat drug dealers? We’ve been trying to get a handle on them for the past two, three years.”
“Well, Clint, you better start working with a certain Assistant D.A. if we can find where they’ve taken her and bring her back to the States. Which is why I’m calling you. They’ve been in her house and found pictures of her son. My son. We need to get him to safety.”
“Tell me what you want me to do and it’s as good as done.”
Athena handed him the airline tickets she’d printed out and ZQ gave Clint the time of their arrival. “Now, to call Mom.”
“Well, good luck with that. You know how badly she wants a grandchild.”
ZQ sent a text to Elroy, his ranch foreman, to go in the house with his mother and to insist she answer the phone even if she didn’t recognize the caller ID. Afraid she might have a heart attack over the shock of the news, he wanted their longtime foreman with her. He checked on Quinn who giggled while Nance licked his face and hands; then ZQ grabbed a beer from the refrigerator. As he passed by, he bent and kissed his son’s head and arm.
His mom’s cell rang twice. “Whatever you’re sellin’, I’ve already got a dozen of ‘em. No, I don’t want to go on a trip or a cruise or a join a gym. This better be damn good.”
“Mom?”
“Son? Zane, are you all right?”
“Yes, I am. In fact, I’m calling with some good news. Good family news.”
“Uh-huh.” Which was her reply to every step of his explanation until she stopped him. “This woman you’ve always loved. Is she the one in the picture you keep hidden under your desk pad? She’s got a kind smile. I’ve always wondered why you kept her picture close, yet hidden.”