by Dani Wyatt
I’ve got Beck.
I’ve got our baby.
And he’s going to get Jordan. I know he is. I trust him.
Beckett
Delivering her here to Bruce’s apartment, I feel like I’m failing her. She needs me to be her safe place. We also need our own damn home. The loft is enemy territory as far as I’m concerned and my girl deserves to feel safe and rooted somewhere.
“You know I’m not leaving, so if y’all need to take this up a notch, I’m just sayin’ it ain’t going to be private.” Bruce sits there, coffee mug in hand, giving us the death stare from his place in the upholstered chair next to the sofa.
I want to be alone with her, but I want that all the time. All I know is it’s hard to breathe without her. We should be alone right now, bonding as husband and wife. But instead, I’m leaving her with Bruce while I jet off to try to bring back the only other thing in her life that matters to her.
Jordan.
The one thing I promised her I would do is get her brother back to her. And I'm going to do it, no matter what.
My neck jerks as I hold her face so I can just stare at her. I want it burned into my mind. Branded deeper into me than she already is. I need to take that with me.
I can’t remember any woman before Promise. And now that I have her, if, God forbid, anything happened, I’d still be loyal. No one will ever take her place. Not in my world nor in my bed.
She was chipper on the drive to Bruce’s, but now she looks wrong. Her eyes aren’t lit from behind. They look cloudy, and the hint of pink flush on her cheeks has been replaced by ash.
I hate leaving her.
“Babe.” I set my lips upon hers, just wanting to feel their softness and taste the flavor of cherries and sunshine. She barely kisses me back. “What’s wrong?”
I shift back to look in her eyes, brushing a loose hair from her forehead, fitting it down behind her ear and then putting my fingers behind the little diamond earring that hangs from the cutest earlobe on the planet. Those are the earrings I gave her just an hour ago. The third gift on the third day. Our three-day anniversary. I gave them to her after another round of goodbye sex.
I had pushed her body to straddle my face, teaching her nothing was off limits. I had to guide her hips at first, showing her just how hard she could move, then once my tongue got going, she bucked on my mouth like a rodeo champ.
She came so hard she collapsed on my face until I nearly smothered in her pink slice of heaven.
Hey, if there’s a way to go, that was it. Death by pussy. And not just any pussy—the only pussy.
I brought her back to life, swung her around and took her from behind. First nuts-to-butt in her clutching cunt. Then, she turned her head, looked at me over her shoulder and whispered she wanted me inside her somewhere else. Fuck if things didn’t get real.
But now I’m starting to get worried. Her mood was all vixen and seductress an hour ago. Now, she looks like her hamster died. I pin her with my eyes until she answers the question. Something is not right here. I don't like it. And I'm about to leave her and fly half way around the fucking world.
“Nothing. I’m fine.” As soon as the words leave her lips she looks up at me, wide-eyed. She knows better than to give me that bullshit answer. I want to fucking know what’s going on. Quickly, she whispers into my ear, “Who knew being pregnant would make you so . . .” she trails off with a shrug. “Funny.”
I look over to see Bruce regarding us with playful irritation. I called him before we headed over. Promise and I told him about the baby. It had to be done. The break in his voice when he did his best to mutter the ‘Congratulations’ without outright crying only made me love the guy even more.
“Raise your right hand,” I say to Bruce with my own mock seriousness.
He bobs his eyebrows but holds up his hand, coffee mug and all, like he's making some sort of weird toast. He crosses his legs and jiggles his loafer up and down.
“Do you fucking swear you will take care of her? And not like you take care of that plant over there either.” We both look at the nearly leafless Ficus tree by the balcony sliding doors. I swear it droops a little more even as we watch it.
He shrugs. “I’m not good with plants. They don’t like me. Besides, who was it that took care of her when you . . .” He pulls his lips to the side. “When she turned into a damn cushion on my sofa a few months ago.”
I glance at Promise and she looks at the floor. Even Bruce isn’t getting a smile from her.
“Just answer the question.”
“Yes, big scary man. I will take care of her.” Bruce’s voice is steady, but I don’t miss his concerned glance at Promise, who refuses to look at either of us. “She can go to work with me. Read some naughty romance to her little book club. Maybe a little Fifty Shades will get their blood pressure up. The group misses her.”
Promise gives him a strained smile and I take her face in my hands, regarding her for a long moment. My eyes take in the few soft freckles that dot her nose. The way her eyes look sunken, deeper than usual.
The narcissistic animal behind my zipper tries to get a word in. But even a horny fuck like me knows there’s going to be no more glory until I get back. Just another incentive to get on the plane, get shit done and get the fuck out with Jordan sitting next to me on the return flight.
“When I get back, we’re going to go to your first doctor’s appointment together, okay?” I set my lips on the part of her hair and inhale through my nose, memorizing her scent. I close my eyes before I look at her, because I don’t want her to see how much it’s hurting me to have to leave her. “I’ll be home in less than a week,” I whisper, then move down to kiss each cheek, her nose, each eyelid. I cannot get enough. I’m as addicted to her as any street addict to their drug of choice.
I release a shaky breath, desperate for her to feel only my strength. “I’m going to go in, get Jordan, and be back here in time to drive you to the doctor. I promise.”
“Just come back. Don’t get hurt. Bring my brother home. Nothing else matters.” I see the way the rims of her eyes turn red and tears gather in their corners. My chest tightens. She owns my heart and right now, it’s breaking for her.
“I’m on it, babe. I’m on it.”
“Promise me.” She stares straight into my eyes and then even deeper, her hands turning into fists. She gently pounds on my shoulders. “Promise you won’t get hurt. I mean it.” She drops her hands and grips around my waist. Clinging. Like a fearful child saying goodbye on their first day of school.
“Hey, look at me.” I raise her chin with my fingers. “Who would mess up this pretty face?” I smile and hope I’ve managed to force the optimism into my voice.
She shakes her head, leans into my chest and hugs me tighter. I wish I could stay here with her forever, but I need to catch my flight. I'm bringing Jordan home to her.
Beckett
We’ve spent the last three hours cowering in alleys and watching. Louis’s family home is a square of stucco three stories tall, surrounded by more just like it. The walls show jagged cracks and the narrow streets throw up sandy dust that settles in every crack and crevice of my body.
“Ready?” Brendan flanks me. We’ve been up for forty-eight hours but we’re tight.
“Yup.”
Sweat soaks the back of my gray t-shirt and tingles as it drips into my eyes. We’re going in without any metal. That was my call. This isn’t warfare. This is just an extraction. And anyway, Brendan and I unarmed are more dangerous than ten armed soldiers.
I spit and keep my eyes pinned on the dark wood door. Thick cloth covers the windows. The house is in what is considered an affluent area of Cairo. It’s in a square. The center of the dwelling houses a courtyard and we’ve caught the occasional sound of a boy’s voice drifting up into the cloudless sky. Could be Jordan, but we haven't seen him. Haven't seen anyone.
“So, we’re really gonna just knock? Like we’re here selling fucking Thin Mints?” Bren
dan grumbles each question, still unsure of my approach. I don't blame him. Carrying out a mission unarmed feels like we're doing it naked, but I'm sure it's the right approach.
“Yep. I think we can talk our way through this. Let me lead. From everything I’ve got from Jeremy, Rehema, and a couple of people I was able to talk to at CPS, people that knew him back when, my friend is still in there. We’re going in soft first. If we need hard, we know we can release the beast. Just follow my lead, okay?”
“Always, bro.”
I take three deep, low breaths and blow them out slowly. Tossing my head back, my neck twitches a few times and I step forward. The solid wood door is only twenty steps in front of us.
Jordan’s in there somewhere, I know it, and failure is not an option. How things got to this point I’m still not sure, but I pray that the Louis I’ve known and respected all these years will listen to reason. I can grab Jordan without his agreement, but without his passport, getting home is going to be a bitch.
If Louis is completely bent, and it comes to it, it’s possible for us to grab Jordan and get out. If we can get to the consulate then we can see if we can get new documents. But that could go sideways, because I have no legal guardianship or custody. Which means we might be screwed.
I shake my head. The rabbit hole goes deep and right now my focus is to get in, have some sort of reasonable discussion with Louis and leave with Jordan and his passport.
Brendan slow breathes right with me. It’s a technique we’ve been taught. Your breath is directly connected to your ability to focus and remain calm in high anxiety situations. It's the same basic principle as meditation, only modified for warfare. I can hear him as I step the last three feet in front of the wooden door. It has a wrought iron crisscross of bars over the small, foggy glass window that's cut in about six inches from the top.
I lean in, trying to see inside. I'm looking for anything I can use: what the terrain is like, the layout of the rooms, anything that would give me an advantage so I’m not trying to scramble and strategize when the door opens.
If the door opens.
So much rides on a single knock.
The weight of Brendan’s reassuring hand on my shoulder brings my fist up. My knuckles hit the wood three times. Inside, I see a small foyer with a rug atop a tile floor. Archways lead off in two directions to adjoining rooms, a hallway straight ahead. I can see sunlight off in that direction.
My heart is about to crack right through my ribs, but I settle my breathing again and a few seconds later, I see a shadow moving from the hall.
The figure is dark silhouetted against the sunlight behind, but it's an adult. Not Louis though. His body shape is close to mine and whomever is approaching is slight. A good six inches shorter than me but taking quick steps.
“Here we go.” I step back, not wanting to be overly intimidating when the door opens.
Brendan moves back in step with me. He’s behind me, just to my right when the door swings open and a man’s face looks at us in surprise. Then just as quickly, he looks like he may have been expecting us.
His eyes narrow. He doesn’t move. His lips tighten as he stands in the space where he’s opened the door less than twelve inches. But that’s just enough if I need it.
“We need to speak with Bakari.” I decide to take the straightforward approach. Maybe he'll respect that.
The man shakes his head.
“He’s here?” I ask. Most people don’t lie when asked a direct question, and even if they do, I’ve got a built in bullshit detector.
The man stares at me, unflinching. He doesn't answer verbally but his eyes dilate and that's all I need.
He hesitates, so I take the initiative and step forward, long and solid, palming the door with a slap so that it swings out of his hand.
Brendan’s right on my heels as I step inside. I’m not waiting for a formal invitation any more. The element of surprise is in my favor now, but I still want to keep things from getting too heated. So I smile and nod my head, extending my hand.
“I’m Beckett Fitzgerald. I appreciate you inviting us in. Now, where’s your brother?”
That last part is a guess. An educated guess, but non-the-less I sniff and watch for his reaction.
“Wait here.” He eyes Brendan, then back to me before he scurries down from where he came.
“Fuck that. I’m not waiting.”
I motion to Brendan that I’m heading in. As soon as he's out of sight I'm after him, until we come to an open room with several wide arches leading out to a green courtyard.
“Time to shine.” I stare straight ahead. Straight at Louis.
We're looking right at each other. His face looks different. The tension I see behind his eyes is excruciating. I don’t ever remember seeing him with that look. He looks ten years older and weighted down.
It’s amazing how much data your brain can process in a split second. I don’t feel threatened. It’s almost as though Louis had been expecting us, wanting us. There’s an odd look in his eye. It’s not relief but it’s something close. I relax. This is going to go the way I want.
“No!” The brother bolts toward us with waving hands. I don’t take my eyes from Louis but I do stiffen my spine, drawing my head up another few inches and expanding my chest with a settling breath as I consider what comes next.
“It’s okay, Zaid. I will talk to them.” Louis waves his brother off.
Zaid is at least fifteen years older than Louis. When he answered the door, I didn’t notice just how different they look. It’s not just the age difference. Louis is built like me, broad and thick, strong from the feet up. His brother is hunched over, rail thin. But they share the same olive skin tone and deep set brown eyes. The same eyes I see in Jordan.
My skin crawls as I step out into the sunlight of the courtyard where Louis stands. There is a fountain in the middle, water bubbling and popping as it trickles down. The glaring heat of the sun beads sweat on my forehead. The only other sound is the blood rushing in my ears.
“I need Jordan. That’s it.” I cut through the bullshit.
Louis’s eyes darken. He sniffs and looks upward for a quick second before answering. I see him swallow. Something passes over his face before he looks at me.
“This is his home now.”
I shake my head. This doesn't even feel like an argument. “Bullshit, Louis.” I exhale the deep breath I’ve been holding for too long. I’m tired. Exasperated. And seeing Louis here, he’s familiar, so I want to be able to be straight with him. He’s never failed me before. I can’t be wrong about him. We share a past. Too many years he was more than just a good human being; he was an exceptional one. “Dude, come on. I don’t want to make this into something it doesn’t need to be. Jordan needs to come home. You know it and I know it. This is not his home. If you love him, and I know you do, you won't do this.” I pause, take a step forward and see Brendan sidestep toward my right, flanking Louis just in case.
“You don’t understand.” Louis’s lips turn into a half smile but there’s not humor or kindness there. “Let me ask you something.” He shoves his hands down into the pockets of his khaki pants and I listen, because I want to give him this chance. But I’m also listening for any indication that Jordan is close. Watching for the glimpse of that white blond hair or a flash of movement. No matter what Louis says, I've got to keep the mission in mind.
Brendan scans with me. He’s spotting me so I can focus on Louis, letting him speak. If nothing else, it buys me some time until, hopefully, I get my eyes and hands on Jordan.
“If you could have done something to fix things with your father, would you have done it? How far would you have gone to make things right if you knew you could?”
I swallow, listening to his voice sharpen and cut. The sun bakes us. It’s noon and there is no shade. We are all exposed and standing in the glare of the brilliant sun.
“I wouldn’t hurt someone else if that’s what you are asking. Especially a kid. A kid th
at trusted you.”
Louis lets out a grunting laugh, shakes his head like I just don't understand.
“What happened?” I step forward and he holds his ground. “Why couldn’t you just tell us? Whatever it is, you could have talked to us.” I stop moving toward him, then shift my feet wide, figuring out the best direction if I need to move fast.
“He’s my son. My son. And I needed to bring him home to his family. This is his home now. I’m sorry it had to be this way, but she would have fought me. And if she fought me, you would have fought me. I couldn't allow that, couldn't . . .” he trails off, falls silent.
“Fuck yes, we would have fought you. Because this is bullshit, Louis, and you know it. She’s his family. She’s been his only fucking family his whole life. If you care for Jordan at all, you won’t do this.”
“He will adapt. He will learn to live here. I will allow him to speak to Promise. Haven’t I already shown you I want to do the right thing? I let him send messages to her.”
“Messages? You think a couple fucking messages makes up for tearing him away?”
I step up, closing the three feet between us. We’re nose to nose and I feel the muscles in my arms begin to harden. Sweat courses down Louis’s temples. His black hair isn't as close cropped as it had always been.
Louis bows up with me. We are two bulldogs ready to find the other’s jugular.
“Beckett!” A boy’s screaming voice flips my head around and breaks the tension.
I’m on my knees in a second. I try to say his name but my voice is stuck in my throat.
I wrap him in my arms. He smells fresh, like he’s just taken a bath.
“What are you doing here?” Jordan’s voice is charged with excitement. “Hey, you’re squeezing me too tight.” Jordan chokes out with a giggle. “Why aren’t you with Promise in Fuji or Fiji, or whatever?” He shakes his head and I loosen my grip, moving my hands to hold him by the shoulder and look him up and down.
Brendan steps next to us and Jordan looks up at him wide-eyed.