by Lara Lacombe
Oh, God. That didn’t sound good. But what choice did he have? It was clear if he didn’t go willingly the enforcers would simply drag him out of the booth.
Joseph swallowed hard and slid across the fake leather seat. The men moved back a step as he stood.
The man in the green shirt rose, as well. “After you,” he said mockingly.
Joseph’s stomach churned as he walked back toward the door. Maybe this wasn’t such a good idea after all. But he still needed the money, and Emma had betrayed him...
The two men flanked him as they stepped into the parking lot. Green Shirt took the lead, heading for one of the semitrucks parked in a far corner of the lot.
Away from people, Joseph thought, panic building in his chest. Are they going to shoot me out here and dump my body?
His throat grew more constricted with every step until he was gasping for air. Finally, they reached the cab of the truck. Green Shirt climbed up and opened the door, speaking softly to someone inside. He nodded, then jumped back down.
“Search him,” he said to the goons.
With no warning, the two large men put their hands on Joseph. They were surprisingly gentle as they frisked him for weapons.
“Take off your shirt,” one ordered.
Confused, Joseph did as he was asked. He got the impression refusal was not an option.
One of the men removed a small black device from his pocket. He flipped a switch and held it close to Joseph’s body, running it up and down the length of his legs.
“He’s clean,” the man said.
Green Shirt nodded. “Put your shirt back on. Then give me your cell phone.”
When he had complied, the man gestured to the cab of the semi. “Up you go.”
Joseph climbed the steep steps, fumbling to open the door and maintain his balance at the same time. The last thing he wanted was to fall, especially in front of these guys. They reminded him of a pack of wolves he’d seen on a nature special, circling round their prey, waiting for it to stumble. He knew now he was in over his head, but he still wanted to make it out alive.
He half climbed, half fell into the passenger seat of the truck, pulling the door closed behind him.
“So,” came a voice from the back, “you have some business for me.”
Joseph turned to find that the back half of the cab was one large mattress covered in what looked like white satin sheets. A huge man reclined in a nest of pillows, his navy silk pajamas shiny in the ambient light. On one side of him sat a plate of cheese and crackers, on the other a small dog of indeterminate breed.
Both dog and man eyed him suspiciously. The dog licked its lips nervously. Apparently, this was some kind of signal. The man plucked a piece of cheese off the plate and held it in front of the dog’s nose. The sleek little body trembled as the animal snatched the treat from its master’s hand.
Joseph’s first impulse was to laugh. How had such a fat man climbed those steps and wedged himself back here? Had the two goons outside pushed and pulled to hoist his girth into the truck? Or had he come in through the trailer? Maybe there was a special door in the back so he didn’t have to squeeze himself through such a tiny opening...
His imagination took off, threatening to override his common sense. But one look at the man’s eyes made Joseph’s blood go cold. In that moment, he understood. He wasn’t looking at a man. This was a monster.
Joseph swallowed hard, trying to find his voice. “I heard you’re looking for babies.”
The man inclined his head. “I might be. Do you have one?”
“Yes.” He reached into his pocket and pulled out a picture. “She’s about ten months old.” He extended the photo, his arm shaking a bit.
The man didn’t take the photo, but he leaned forward to study it. “Cute,” he said.
The word didn’t sound good coming from him. In fact, it sounded downright scary. Joseph was really starting to have second thoughts now, but it was too late to change his mind.
“How much?”
Joseph named his price. The man leaned back and stared at him, his expression totally blank, giving no hint as to what he might be thinking.
The silence stretched on. Joseph began to wonder if he’d somehow offended the man. Was there something else he was supposed to say, some expected sign or action that came next? He’d never dealt with people like this before and didn’t know the procedure.
Finally, the man lifted one eyebrow. “That’s pretty steep, considering this is our first time doing business together.” He named another figure, one that was much less but would still cover the gambling debt. Joseph was too frightened to do anything but accept.
“Very good. Let my associate know the address, and we will take it from here.”
It was clear he was being dismissed, but Joseph still had questions.
“How will I get paid?”
“My associate will explain everything. If things work out, we can do business again. If not...” He trailed off, his meaning quite clear. A chill skittered down Joseph’s spine as he silently hoped he never saw this man again. Was he jumping out of the frying pan and into the fire? He’d thought Karnov was bad, but this man seemed no better.
“Uh, okay,” he stammered. “Thank you.” He didn’t know if that was the right thing to say, but he didn’t want to offend, and he figured it was better to err on the side of caution.
“We’ll see,” replied the man.
Joseph opened the door and practically fell out. He straightened, brushing his hand down the front of his shirt as he fought to regain his composure. The two enforcers merely stared at him. Green Shirt smirked.
“You have information for me?”
“I—uh, yeah,” Joseph stammered. “I mean to say, yes. I do.” He rattled off Emma’s address in El Paso. “Do you need me to write it down?”
Green Shirt shook his head. “Nope.” He tapped his temple with his forefinger. “Got it.”
“And my money?”
“After,” the man said. It was on the tip of Joseph’s tongue to insist on getting half now, but he thought better of it. He doubted Green Shirt would respond well to such a demand, and he knew the man in the truck wouldn’t appreciate it.
Joseph nodded and swallowed. “So, um, what happens now?”
Green Shirt grinned at him. “Now you leave. Run back to your hole, little rabbit. I’ll be in touch.”
Joseph didn’t have to be told twice. He started for the relative safety of the truck stop diner, moving at a fast clip. He didn’t want them to think he was running away, but he also didn’t want to stick around any longer than necessary. The spot between his shoulder blades tingled as he walked, but he didn’t dare turn around to see if they were watching him.
He slid into the booth in the back, his hands shaking a bit.
“What’ll it be?” asked the waitress.
“Just coffee.” He didn’t think he could stomach any food right now.
She nodded, returning a moment later with a chipped mug. Joseph wrapped his hands around it, his attention focused on the parking lot. He didn’t want to leave until he knew those men were gone. He wasn’t stupid—he realized they knew his address, probably knew everything about his life already. But the thought they might follow him home tied his stomach in knots.
After a few moments, he heard the low rumble of a truck engine turning over. He scooted closer to the window, trying to catch a better glimpse of the back corner of the parking lot.
The semi crawled out of its spot, making a wide turn onto the main aisle of the stop. It glided past the windows of the diner on its way out of the parking lot. Green Shirt was behind the wheel, the two enforcers next to him. As Joseph watched, Green Shirt turned and gave him a mocking salute.
If he were a braver man, Joseph would have returned the gesture. Instead, he looked away, huddling into h
is coffee cup as he tried to pretend he hadn’t been watching the truck drive away. From the corner of his eye, he saw the other man laugh.
Joseph held his breath until the truck pulled out of the lot and headed for the freeway. This was a mistake, he thought. He knew it was wrong to sell his own niece, but he’d justified it in his mind by assuming she’d be given to a family who would love her. After meeting these men, he realized how wrong he’d been.
But what could he do? He’d survived his first encounter with the buyer, but something told him he wouldn’t survive a second. And now that they had Emma’s address, he couldn’t exactly go back on the deal. They’d likely just kill him and take the baby anyway.
Still, there had to be something he could do. He didn’t want to die, but he also didn’t want his niece sold into a nightmare. Maybe there was a way he could save her without the men knowing he’d double-crossed them. Unlike Karnov, he suspected these men didn’t give warnings. And he doubted they would kill him quickly.
As if on cue, his phone buzzed in his pocket. He pulled it out and frowned at the display, not recognizing the number.
“Hello?”
“Two days.”
The hairs on the back of Joseph’s neck stood on end as his heart began to pound. “Excuse me?”
“You have two days. Then we’re coming for blood.”
“How did you get my number?” This was a new phone, one he’d never used before. The only person he’d called was that friend, Jimmy.
At least, he’d thought Jimmy was his friend... It seemed he’d sold him out to Karnov.
The man on the other end of the line laughed softly, the sound menacing. “You’re not as smart as you think you are. Two days,” he repeated.
“I-I’m getting the money,” he stammered. “Tell Karnov I’m good for it.”
The man laughed. “I’ve heard that one before.”
“It’s the truth.”
“For your sake, I hope so.” The man disconnected without another word.
Joseph returned the phone to his pocket, taking a deep breath to calm his racing heart. He tugged at the collar of his shirt, feeling an invisible noose tighten around his neck. I’m sorry, Christina. So sorry.
But what other choice did he have? It was a matter of self-preservation; his back was against the wall, and Joseph wasn’t about to simply surrender. He was going to stay alive, and once his debt to Karnov was paid, he’d figure out a way to get the baby back. It would all be okay—he would come up with a plan that would take care of everything.
Somehow.
Chapter 6
Emma lay curled on her side, watching the rise and fall of Christina’s chest as the baby slept beside her. She normally didn’t bring her baby into bed with her, but she still couldn’t bear to be apart from her for very long. This was the second night they’d been home, and the memories of finding an empty crib were still too fresh for Emma’s liking. Hopefully she’d soon find the courage to put Christina back into her own room, but she was probably going to have to replace the crib and rearrange the furniture in the nursery to erase any similarity to that horrible night.
She rolled onto her back with a small sigh as her mind sifted through her other memories—calling the police, talking to Detective Randall. And the lonely drive down to Big Bend, the miles blurring as she struggled to see through her tears.
Thank God for Matt, she thought. If it weren’t for him, she might have given up. And if it weren’t for the flyers he’d made, Christina wouldn’t have been recognized. Her baby would still be missing, in the care of her deranged uncle.
She shuddered at the thought, cutting off her imagination before it could go down that road. The what-ifs and maybes weren’t important. All that mattered was that her daughter was with her again, safe and warm and loved.
While Emma had been eager to return to El Paso and put this nightmare behind her, a part of her had been reluctant to leave Matt. Although their time together had been brief, she’d grown used to being around him and had begun to rely on his emotional support. He’d been so wonderful in the hospital, taking care of many of the details so she could simply hold Christina and reassure herself that her baby was fine. He’d been supportive without being intrusive, as if he’d sensed her need to focus on her daughter to the exclusion of everything else. It was exactly what she had needed, and she wished she could have spent more time thanking him for all his help.
Their goodbye had been brief but heartfelt. He’d helped her load Christina into the car, dropping a sweet kiss on her baby’s forehead before shutting the door. Then he’d turned to her, his blue eyes bright.
“I don’t know how to thank you,” Emma had said, tears springing to her eyes once more.
“You don’t have to,” Matt had replied, his voice gruff.
She had smiled then, touched by his response. She had wanted to say more, but Christina had begun to fuss, unhappy with her stationary position.
“Sounds like it’s time for you to go,” Matt had said.
“I guess so.” Seized by impulse, Emma had reached for him, bringing his face down as she rose to her tiptoes. She’d pressed a brief kiss to his mouth before releasing him, then climbed in the car before Matt could do or say anything. She’d driven away then, her mouth still tingling from the feel of his lips and the brush of his stubble.
She placed her fingers to her lips now, smiling a little at the memory. Matt was the first man she’d kissed since Chris, if you could really count what she’d done as a kiss. She normally wasn’t so impulsive, but the knowledge she wouldn’t be seeing him again had made her bold. And what a shame it was that he was out of her life. Now that she could really think about it, he was exactly the kind of man she wanted to have around—kind, dependable, supportive, helpful. Not to mention good with kids, specifically Christina. Her daughter had really taken to him, giggling with joy when he’d played peekaboo with her. The sight of such a large, strong man paying attention to her baby had hit her hard, drawing her to him all the more.
Did he have any idea? Likely not. She’d watched his face when he’d played with Christina. There had been no hint of calculation or artifice, no indication he was doing it simply to score points. He’d been genuinely interested in her baby, and his smile at her responses had been real. Matt seemed to truly like children, and Emma had to wonder why it was he didn’t have a wife and babies at home.
Maybe he just hasn’t found the right person yet. He’d flinched when she’d asked if he had kids of his own; was that because he didn’t think he’d be able to have a family? Maybe he’d grown tired of looking for Ms. Right and thought he’d be alone forever. For a few minutes, Emma allowed herself to indulge in the fantasy that she was the one he’d been waiting for. Since she didn’t know him all that well, it was easy to imagine that he was the ideal man—always attentive and sweet, never having a bad day. And never leaving dirty socks on the floor or the toilet seat up. It was fun to picture that life, the both of them blissfully happy and in love, Matt bonding with Christina as if she were his own child. A house in a nice neighborhood, with the requisite dog and cat as pets. She’d have room for a small garden; he’d have a shed where he could tinker around on weekends. He’d teach Christina how to ride a bike and throw a ball. It would be the perfect suburban life, the American dream live and in color.
Christina stirred in her sleep, settling with a small sigh. Emma smiled at her little girl, so beautiful and perfect. “One day,” she whispered. “One day I’ll be able to give you that.” No one could replace Chris, but Emma wanted her baby to have a father. Someone who loved her and would protect her, someone who would laugh with her and hold her when she cried. Emma’s own father had been wonderful, so she knew how important it was for a little girl to have a daddy in her life. Part of her had hoped that Joseph could be a positive male influence, but those dreams were dashed.
Just thin
king about her brother made anger bubble up in Emma’s chest. Joseph had better pray Emma never found him. Emma wasn’t normally a violent person, but if she got her hands on him, he wasn’t going to walk away from the encounter.
Her phone buzzed on the bedside table. She rolled over and grabbed it, frowning at the unfamiliar number. Then she saw the text message, and her blood ran cold.
Get out now.
Her first thought was it was a wrong number. That was the only logical explanation. She returned the phone to her bedside table and tried to relax again, but the ominous message lingered in her mind.
I’ll check the apartment. Once she convinced herself that things were normal, she’d be able to go to sleep. She slid out of bed, moving slowly so she didn’t wake the baby. Then she began her circuit of the place, double-checking the windows and making sure the curtains were drawn tight. She’d already had the building supervisor change her door locks—now she was the only one with a key.
She was in the nursery when she heard the first sound, a furtive scratching that made the hairs on the back of her neck stand on end. It sounded like it was coming from the living room, so she crept back down the hall, straining to hear the noise again.
More scratching, coupled with a few soft taps. It was coming from the door. The knob jiggled slightly, and Emma realized someone was trying to pick the lock.
Oh, God, she thought, her breath catching in her throat. OhGodohGodohGod...
She raced back into her bedroom, closing the door behind her and locking it. Then she shoved her feet into a pair of tennis shoes and grabbed the baby wrap draped across the chair. The warning hadn’t been a wrong number—it had been meant for her. Someone was coming for her, and she was about to run out of time.
She shoved her phone in her pocket. She’d call the police later, after she and Christina were safe. Whoever was trying to break in would be in the apartment in a matter of seconds, and there wasn’t time to wait for the authorities to arrive. She had to get out now, while she still had a chance.
