DON’T HURT MY BABY

by Zoey Parker

  I relaxed, taking a deep breath. I felt better than I ever had in my life. My body didn’t even feel real, like it wasn’t even connected to my head. My mind was free of worries, and everything I used to obsess over didn’t seem like nearly as big of a deal. Nothing mattered, only being with my little girl. “This is amazing,” I said. “I’m so sorry it took me a long time to get here.”

  The little girl smiled at me and gave me a hug. Her hair smelled sweet, like strawberries. “Mommy, those bad men can’t hurt us anymore,” she said. “I promise we’re together now.”

  “Is this whole place just a big field?”

  The girl gave me a mysterious smile. “It’s whatever you want it to be, Mommy,” she said.

  I closed my eyes, thinking of a log cabin I’d seen in pictures. It was where my mother and father spent their honeymoon, and it was a place I’d always wanted to visit. When I opened my eyes, the cabin was right in front of me. “Oh, my God,” I breathed. “That’s incredible.”

  The little girl giggled. “Mommy! You made a house!” She grabbed my hand and ran forward in the snow. I was aware of my feet and ankles sinking into the white fluff, but it wasn’t cold. It felt soothing and relaxing, almost like getting a pedicure. As I followed my daughter into the cabin, I was astounded at the interior. It was covered in photos — photos of my parents, photos of Zane, photos of me and my little girl.

  I gasped as she led me into the kitchen. It was fully stocked with copper cookware and every type of food I could imagine. There was a pot on the stove with something inside that smelled absolutely delicious, and a little familiar. I closed my eyes, racking my brain and trying to think of where I’d smelled that scent before. It was rich, tangy, a little spicy. I opened my eyes and leaned over the pot to see a rich, meaty gravy with chunks of vegetables and oil skimming the surface.

  “I can’t believe this,” I murmured, reaching for a spoon and dipping it into the pot. Even though I knew it was too hot to eat, I eagerly took a bite of food. It was marvelously warm and salty, just like the stew my mother had made me when I was a little girl.

  “Mommy, may I have some?” My daughter looked up at me, her eyes pleading. “I want to try some of Grandmother’s soup!”

  “This is a special Italian recipe,” I told her. “This is something my mother used to make for holidays, and for funerals. She said it was the most comforting food on the planet, and I always had to agree with her. It’s really incredible. Taste all of the vegetables.”

  “This is delicious, Mommy.” She smiled up at me and handed me the spoon, carefully making sure not to spill a drop.

  “This is a miracle. I can’t believe it. Where are we?” I looked around the cabin, feeling more alive than I ever had in my entire life. This wasn’t even life; it was beyond life. It was like being in a lucid dream that I had no desire of ever waking from.

  The little girl smiled up at me. “Heaven,” she said softly.

  Suddenly, there was a dull ache in my chest. It was unexpected, and I cried out as I felt it spread to my limbs. She was watching me with a placid expression on her adorable face.

  “Mommy, you have to go back now,” she said softly. “You have to go back. You can’t stay here.”

  “I want to stay,” I pleaded. “Please, please let me stay!”

  My daughter shook her head. “I’ll see you, soon, Mommy,” she said. It sounded like she was speaking through a wind tunnel; even though she was right in front of me, I could barely understand what she was saying.

  “Help!” I said as a feeling of panic came over me. “Help!”

  “You’re okay, you’re okay, I’m right here,” said an unfamiliar, stern voice.

  Everything in my body hurt, more than I ever thought possible. I couldn’t ever remember being in this much pain. I tried to lift my hand to my face and was shocked at how heavy it was. I could barely move; when I tried to, my body exploded with pain.

  “Isabella? Can you hear me? I need you to open your eyes,” the voice instructed. “I need you to open your eyes and count to ten, okay?”

  With Herculean effort, I managed to open my eyelids. There was a figure in white leaning over me. But she wasn’t the perfect figure from my vision a few seconds ago; her skin was sallow and pockmarked, and her white uniform crudely pinched her body into some approximation of a figure. Her grey, straggly hair was held back with a white cap, and there was a stethoscope around her neck.

  “There we are,” she said with a smile, mistaking my disgust for pain. “I know it hurts, but everything will get better.”

  Slowly, I moved my head to the side and looked around. I was lying in a hospital bed, wearing a puce-colored cotton gown. There was a sheet pulled over my legs and my skin looked odd, kind of mottled, like I’d been out in the cold. Suddenly, everything came rushing back to me. I saw Zane rush into the room, his face shining with relief.

  “Can I talk to her?” Zane turned towards the nurse. “Please? She’s awake,” he added, as if that was going to change anything.

  The nurse gave me a sharp look. “Okay,” she said in a warning tone. “But keep it short. Your wife is still very weak. She was in a coma, and she’s going to need a lot of TLC over the next couple of weeks.”

  Zane rushed to my side. At first, I was so relieved to see him that I didn’t notice how exhausted and horrible he looked. There were big dark circles under his eyes and his skin looked transparent, almost like paper.

  “Isabella,” Zane said in a ragged voice. He reached for my hands and wrapped them with his. His touch felt rough, but it was warm. “Isabella, I thought you were a fuckin’ goner,” he said in a low tone, pushing his head close to mine. “I was so fuckin’ scared.”

  I swallowed hard. “Water,” I managed to croak. It hit me that I was suddenly, desperately thirsty, thirstier than I’d ever been in my whole life. My throat felt like a dry tube of cardboard.

  Zane handed me a paper cup and guided it to my mouth. I could feel water spilling and dribbling down my chin but I didn’t care; it was the sweetest thing I’d ever tasted.

  “How are you feeling?”

  I moaned softly. “I feel horrible,” I admitted. “But you look worse.”

  Zane actually grinned at me. “I can imagine,” he said roughly. “But seriously, Isabella, you’re a trooper,” he said, this time in a softer tone. He reached out and stroked my hair. “They say you and the baby are gonna be just fine.”

  Oh, my God, the baby! “I can’t believe that,” I said softly. “I mean, I can. I had a crazy dream. I was in this field with our daughter.”

  Zane looked at me and shook his head. “You are definitely not having a daughter,” he said, crossing his arms over his chest. “My first child is gonna be a son. I can tell.” He smiled proudly.

  I shook my head. “No, it was a little girl,” I said. “She was blonde, like me, but she had your eyes. She was beautiful.” A tear came to my eye as I remembered the feeling of absolute, inescapable bliss that had come over me when I was frolicking with my daughter in a snowy field. “She was perfect.”

  “I bet she was,” Zane said. He reached for my hand again and squeezed.

  There was a horrible moment of silence between us. “If you’re here, what happened? What happened to Jake and Rico?”

  Zane let out a long sigh, then stretched. He scratched the back of his neck, then returned his hand to my lap. “I was hoping you wouldn’t ask, to be honest,” he said with a guilty grin. “But I took care of them.”

  I blinked at him. “What do you mean, you took care of them?”

  Zane looked at me. “Do you really wanna hear this?”

  I nodded. “Well, not really,” I admitted, twisting my face into a grimace. It hurt, everything still hurt. My whole body ached, but I realized I was at least starting to feel better. There was feeling in my fingers and toes again, and my skin was looking better by the minute. “But I have to,” I said firmly. “I have to know what happened. I want those guys gone,” I added in a
soft voice. “They hurt me, and they tried to kill our daughter.”

  Zane smiled again. “You mean our son,” he said gruffly. “But I get it.”

  He lowered himself into a chair at my bedside, and began to tell me the whole story.

  Chapter 34

  Zane

  After I left Isabella at the hospital, I called Tommy and Ciro.

  “We got your men,” Tommy said in a gruff voice. “We’re at the Mariner Motor Lodge, outside of Morris.”

  He hung up with a sharp click. Adrenaline coiled in my stomach like a snake about to lunge for a rat, and I shivered. The Mariner Motor Lodge was owned by a family connected to the business. They had no problem letting their rooms for our occasional use, whether it was a coke-fueled party with hookers or an “interrogation.”

  Tonight, it was going to be the latter.

  I drove across town as fast as I could. The excitement and feeling of adrenaline was rushing through me, as powerful as a drug, more powerful than it should have been. I was elated. I couldn’t believe Jake and Rico had fallen for whatever bullshit stunt Ciro had pulled to get them back under control.

  I grinned to myself. Isabella was safe, and now it was my time to play.

  In the family, you didn’t fuck someone and run. That was the first lesson I’d learned that fateful night in the basement with Lionel and Gianni. You didn’t fuck someone, take their money, and expect to get away with it. On some level, maybe Jake wanted to get caught. He wouldn’t have ever done anything so dumb if he thought this would be the end of his life in the family. Hell, he probably even thought some would respect him for acting the way that he had.

  “Boy, fuck, you were wrong,” I said, hooting with evil laughter. These men, who had ruined my life, who had killed my father and tried to kill my wife and child, these men weren’t going to live to see sunrise.

  I pulled into the parking lot of the Mariner shortly after midnight. I saw Ciro’s black SUV parked in a corner of the lot, tinted windows shining in the light of the moon. Back when I’d found Isabella in the woods, it had been so cloudy it looked like rain. But now it was clear. The moon was bright, so bright I could see my shadow as I walked across the parking lot. The old pavement was cracked and weeds were growing through in places. It was a shitty, run-down motel, but I was glad for it.

  My hand tightened around the pistol in my pocket as I climbed up the stairs and headed for room 202. That room was always available to the family; it was a room that had seen a lot of blood and pussy. And now it was about to see some pussies get bloody, I thought with a wicked grin. Jake was a fucking snake. He was going to get what was coming.

  I burst in the door. To my surprise, Jake and Rico were sitting down, drinking beer. Ciro and Tommy were sitting on the beds, counting cash.

  “Yo, Zane,” Ciro said with a grin. “We got ’em.” Before Jake and Rico could react, Ciro and Tommy pulled guns out of their waistbands and pointed them at Jake and Rico.

  “Oh, fuck me!” Rico yelled. He dropped to his knees. “This ain’t fuckin’ fair! We was supposed to get some strippers up in this joint!”

  I leaned down in his face and spat, covering his nose in slime. “You ain’t gonna see another stripper for the rest of your life,” I said through gritted teeth. “Not unless you wanna watch Jake work your pole.”

  Rico shivered and I swung my arm back and cracked my fist into his face. I felt the bones of my knuckles meet the bones of his teeth, and he fell to the side, blubbering like a baby.

  Jake was staring at me with a quiet hatred in his eyes. “I knew it would be you,” he said, looking straight at me. Even though I knew Jake and Rico were outnumbered, a small shiver of fear ran down my back. “I knew you’d come and fuck me in the end, brother.”

  Crossing the room in two easy steps, I flung my hand across Jake’s face, slapping him as hard as I could. “Don’t ever call me brother, ever again,” I hissed. “You don’t deserve to call me brother. You stuck a knife in my father’s gut and left him to die in his own goddamn bed like an old maid.”

  Rico looked up at me with yellowing eyes. “Don’t kill me. Don’t kill me, Zane. I’ll do anything you want. I’ll be loyal! I’ll do whatever! Bodyguard! Watch that blonde bitch of yours!”

  I hit him again, this time with my fist, and watched him spit out a mouthful of teeth. “Don’t you ever call my wife a bitch again,” I said solemnly. “Or I’ll cut out your tongue, you understand?”

  Jake was silent. From across the room, Tommy and Ciro nodded at me with approval.

  “Tie them up,” I snapped. “One at a time. Then bring Rico in the bathroom. We have a little business to discuss first.”

  I went into the bathroom and sat on the closed toilet as I watched Tommy and Ciro bind Jake and Rico with their arms behind their backs.

  “Gag Rico,” I said with a grin. “He’s got a nasty fuckin’ mouth on him.”

  Rico tried to yell but Ciro stuffed a rag in his mouth, covering it with duct tape. I walked over and grabbed him by the collar, dragging him in the bathroom and closing the door behind me. When we were alone, Rico began to sob. I watched his fat, puffy face hyperventilate and finally, I reached forward and yanked the duct tape off his mouth.

  “If you make a fucking sound, I’ll put this right back,” I threatened. “You don’t want to fuck with me, you got that?”

  “I understand,” Rico said in a trembling voice. “What do you want with me?”

  I paced a few steps back and forth. “I want to know why you got involved in this shit,” I hissed. “I want to know why you fucked with my wife.”

  Rico looked at me with big, scared eyes. “I didn’t do anything,” he said, stammering like a fool. “It was Jake’s idea! All Jake’s!”

  I laughed heartily. “You really are a son of a bitch, you know that?”

  Rico looked at me. I could tell he was plainly terrified. “What? Why?”

  “Because you fucking snitched on your man not ten minutes into this!” I said, gesturing around wildly. “You think you have what it takes to be a fucking hotshot Mafioso?”

  Rico trembled. “I don’t know what you’re talking about. I didn’t do anything.”

  I laughed in his face, reaching back with my arm and swinging forward, cracking him hard in the face. Blood bubbled under Rico’s nose. “I don’t believe you,” I snapped. “You fucked with my wife. You’re gonna die, asshole, you know that?”

  Rico swallowed hard. Blood was dripping from his nose. “I don’t know, man,” he said. “I don’t know!”

  “You don’t know shit,” I said, kicking him to the side. Since his hands were bound behind his back, he flipped over and was prone on his side, wriggling around on the bathroom floor. “Stay here,” I ordered.

  Opening the bathroom door, I walked back into the room and grabbed Jake by the collar until he stood up. We tussled like that for a moment until I punched him hard in the gut and he doubled over.

  “Get in the bathroom,” I snarled. “I’m not fucking around, asshole.”

  Jake glared at me. The disgust and hatred on his face was obvious. I could tell he wanted to kill me, or worse.

  When we were in the bathroom, I pulled the tape off his mouth and stared into his beady dark eyes. “You hurt my wife,” I said in a deadly solemn tone. “You hurt my wife, and I want you to die.”

  Jake opened his mouth to speak and I punched him hard, making him recoil. His eyes flew back in his head; blood trickled from his nose and mouth. I ran my hand under the faucet and flicked water on his face until he opened his eyes.

  “She had it coming, that lazy slut,” Jake said. He cracked a grin at me and I punched him in the gut until he was crying out and whimpering like a baby.

  “Don’t you ever talk about my wife like that,” I warned. I pushed Jake into the bathtub on his stomach. His hands were tied and purpling behind his back, bound tightly with a cord. Reaching into my pocket, I pulled out a pair of shears.

  “I feel like taking a finger
or two,” I said. “I mean, you hurt Isabella, so I’m going to hurt you now, Jake.”

  Jake screamed into the dirty tub as I tightened the shears around his thumb and clamped down until the bone gave and it snapped off. Blood spurted from his hand and Jake was wailing loudly. A strong thrill of adrenaline rushed through my body.

  “Tell me what you did,” I hissed under my breath. “Tell me. Tell me why.”

  Reaching into the tub, I grabbed him and flipped him around so he was on his back with his bound hands underneath of him. There were delicate sprays of blood, like sea foam, coating the tile on the inside of the tub and Jake paled when he saw them.

  “I need to know if Lionel set you up,” I said, drawing the shears down Jake’s chest and pressing down until a thin red line appeared in their wake. “I need to know if my own father betrayed me, or if it was just you, the sack of shit foster brother I grew up with.”