by KaLyn Cooper
“We have to wear pink.” At the disgust in Greyson’s voice, Lilly glanced at him in her rearview mirror. She smiled as his small face pinched. She felt the same way about it.
“Yes. I know.” A hint of repugnance laced through in her mother-in-law’s voice, but Lilly said nothing as the older woman continued, “Dalton isn’t very happy about it either, and Kalista is having hissy-fits about wearing a pink dress.”
“Are they in the wedding, too?” Preston asked.
There was hesitation on the other end before she answered. “Boys, did someone tell you that you were to take part in the wedding?”
Greyson jumped in, “We’re going to be in Uncle Jack’s wedding, so of course we’re going to be in Dad’s wedding. We’re the ring bearers,” he said as though the title had become official and it was their duty for every wedding.
Lilly heard the older woman take a deep breath. “It’s a very small wedding, boys, and I don’t think your father is expecting you to actually take part in the ceremony.”
“Then we don’t have to wear the stupid pink shirts?” Preston’s excited answer shocked Lilly.
“Sorry, but Annabelle has chosen pink for her wedding. Everything is pink.” The exaggeration in Betsy’s voice told Lilly just what the older woman thought about the color selection. Lilly agreed.
“We’re flying in early tomorrow morning, and I’ll pick you boys up around nine,” Gramma B told them.
“Shall I have Mateo fix lunch for everyone?” Lilly offered.
“Thanks, but I don’t think we’ll have time. I’ll get the kids some fast food in Playa del Carmen, and they can eat it on the ferry over to Cozumel. Brighton has arranged for a car to pick us up at the walk-on ferry.”
Lilly knew her boys too well to allow them freedom with a fast food menu. Greyson would choose several fatty burgers and stuff himself with greasy fries. With her young son’s heart condition, she had carefully watched his fat intake all his life. He’d be throwing up before they got to the large island that was visible on the horizon from the Girard compound.
As though in a corporate negotiation, Lilly stated, “Since you’re so pressed for time, I’ll have Mateo pack a picnic lunch for everyone.” After a moment’s thought, she asked, “Does anyone have food allergies?”
“You don’t need to bother Mateo—”
“No bother.” Lilly’s tone quaked no argument. “I insist. Now, allergies? Or dislikes?”
After a few minutes of sandwich preferences, Lilly had a good idea of what to pack in the basket.
“I’ll see you tomorrow.” With that settled, they ended the call.
Moments later, Lilly pulled into a parking lot about halfway down the Hotel Zone. “Let’s see what we can find here.” The upscale cluster of stores included most of her favorites, from brand name designers to Gap and Old Navy. She much preferred this touristy area. She felt safer here than at the mall located in downtown Cancun utilized by locals.
An hour later, Greyson’s tolerance for shopping had ended when he sat down on the floor under a rack of boys’ shirts in his size. “I’m too tired to move.”
“Mom,” an excited cry from Preston carried across the children’s department. “Finally.”
Lilly scurried to the rack of button-down oxford shirts and sure enough, they had pink striped ones mixed in with blue, white, yellow, and even orange. “You wear a size—”
“I know what size I wear, Mom.” Preston shuffled through the rack in his size and with a flourish, pulled one out and held it up to his small frame.
“Try it on, please. Sizes are different here, and I want to be sure it fits.” She glanced around and saw small brown sandals sticking out from under a rack. With a wink to Preston, she asked a little louder than normal, “Have you seen your brother? I wanted to take you boys out for ice cream, but we may not have time if we don’t find Greyson soon.”
Neat racks of clothes waved as her son’s slight frame bulldozed through on his way to his mother. “I’m here, Mommy.” He whipped off his well-worn t-shirt while six feet away and grabbed for the pink dress shirt. The long scar in the middle of his small chest always caught her attention. She rarely noticed it anymore, and he certainly wasn’t concerned about it or his half naked body. He slid his arms into the sleeves and pulled both halves of the shirt down to button them. Too small. Her little boy was growing so fast. She grabbed the next size larger while he stripped the first one off. Perfect. And so was Preston’s.
“I don’t know about you two, but I need ice cream before we try to find brown shoes.” Lilly didn’t bother with the hangers, just folded the shirts over her arm and headed to the checkout.
As she and the children exited the store, she noticed a group of local boys emerge from the alley behind them. She took Greyson’s hand and quickened her pace toward the ice cream parlor two blocks down. As a teenager, she’d been allowed more freedom than most American children in Mexico because she was usually with several of her Chel cousins, but even they had been leery of the many youth gangs that roved the streets, picking the pockets of unknowing tourists, and shaking down children for whatever treasure they might have.
They slipped into the small store where soft yogurt and ice cream machines lined two walls. Covertly, Lilly watched the tough pre-teens saunter past the big windows. She exhaled a breath and the tension left her shoulders. She helped Greyson fill a cup with three flavors of soft serve and two candy toppings plus fruit. Thankfully Preston had gotten his and waited next to the cash register while she filled the bottom of a cup with sherbet.
“Mine’s already been weighed,” he announced and dug into the filled cup.
Lilly paid for the afternoon treats. Greyson stood at her side slurping peanut butter, chocolate, and birthday cake ice cream.
****
Preston wandered outside as he neatly spooned the icy delight into his mouth. With a glance back into the store, he watched his mother pay with a two hundred pesos bill. He had two of those in his wallet and some change in his front pocket. He wanted to buy a wedding gift for Uncle Jack and Aunt Jillian while they were in Cancun. He hoped the money he had would be enough, but knew it was less than twenty-five dollars back home in Chicago.
Someone bumped Preston and spun him around into another person, nearly spilling his ice cream. “Sorry,” he muttered and tried to move closer to the shop windows.
The body of a big teenage boy filled the space in front of him. “I want some ice cream, kid.” He was hard to understand even though he spoke English.
Preston looked at what was left in his cup then up, and up, and up until he saw the mean eyes of the older boy.
“Don’t want your fuckin’ ice cream, pretty boy.” He swatted the cup from Preston’s hand. “Give me some money so I can buy my own.”
Preston frantically glanced around for an adult but none were paying attention to what was happening to him. He dared a glimpse into the shop where his mother and brother stood waiting for change.
Two more boys, not as big as the first, boxed him in. “I saw a wallet in his back pocket,” the one with a black eye declared. He reached behind Preston and rubbed his butt.
Preston was too stunned to even move.
“Like that, pretty boy?” the first chided. “I’ll bet you like it when someone plays with your butt cheeks. I got a big dick, and I know you’d like it if I fucked that sweet little ass of yours.” The teenage boy grabbed his crotch and rocked his hips forward and back, making the others laugh.
Preston couldn’t breathe. He thought he was going to pass out. He’d heard some of those words before when Uncle Jack and his friends were joking around but they’d never said things like that. The thought of anything but poop in his butt made his belly do flip flops.
Black Eye had his wallet and was pulling out all his money.
“No,” Preston yelled and grabbed for it. One of the other boys latched onto his arms and pulled them behind his back. He ignored the pain in his shoulders as he str
ained to free himself. “That’s my money. I’m going to buy a wedding present.”
“I heard change,” the first said.
“Give me back my wallet,” Preston screamed just before a hand slapped over his mouth.
“Shut up, kid,” the biggest boy said, “before I have to hurt you.”
With an evil smile, the boy on his right said, “Allow me to get the change.” He shoved his hand into Preston’s front pocket and grabbed his penis and gave it a little squeeze. “This has promise...when he grows up.” Laughter bounced off the blocks of the building. Somehow the entire mob had moved away from the large windows of the ice cream shop toward the dark, stinky alley.
Preston knew he was in trouble. If they got him any further from his mom, they could beat him up...or worse. His insides quivered. He twisted, trying to free his body, but his captors were so much stronger and bigger. A whole new level of fear shot through him. He wanted to cry but fought the tears that welled up in his eyes and blurred his vision.
Again, he tried to wiggle free of the hands that bound him at the elbows.
The first one gently ran his large hand over Preston’s hair. “He’s a real blond, not bleached from the sun.”
Preston really didn’t like the way this kid looked at him. He remembered what the boy had said about his big penis and screamed against the hand held tightly over his mouth.
“You ever sucked a dick before?” The leader stared at him, the grin growing wider.
Did boys actually do stuff like that? Why would anyone want to do that? Panic took hold and Preston feared he’d pee his pants. Bile swelled up from his stomach. He gulped it down so loud they all heard.
Laughter surrounded him and echoed down the alley.
One of the boys in the back called out, “And that’s the way you’re gonna swallow when I shoot my wad into your mouth.”
“What did you find for me, boys?” A man’s deep voice from down the alley stilled all the teens surrounding Preston. He used the interruption to twist free. As he tried to run, a huge hand grabbed the back of his collar and lifted him off the ground. “Well, well. What do we have here?”
Preston grabbed at his buttoned up collar that threatened to cut off all air. He strained his neck and tried to drag in a breath but small sips were all he managed. A foot off the ground, he couldn’t get purchase to kick at the big man that held him at arm’s length.
“We want fifty...no...a hundred...U.S. dollars.” The first boy opened the negotiation. “We found him, and we get the fee. He’s...he’s a real blond. That should be worth more.”
The group had moved further down the alley, deeper into the shadows. “A wimpy little thing, isn’t he,” the man observed as he examined Preston. “How old are you, kid?”
Suddenly realizing his mouth was uncovered, Preston tried to scream. The squeals that came out sounded nothing like the shouts his brain ordered him to make.
Preston heard the fear in his mother’s voice as she called his name.
“Hel—” was all Preston got out before his back was pressed against a rock hard chest, a huge meaty hand was clamped over his mouth, and his nose was pinched closed. He couldn’t breathe. He shook his head back and forth to no avail. He couldn’t even open his mouth to bite because the man had locked his little finger under his chin. Terror took over and he kicked even harder.
“Cut that out if you want to live,” the man whispered close to his ear.
Preston could feel the danger in the strong arms that held him tight. This man could easily crush him.
A calm voice from behind the man said, “Let the kid go.”
Preston thought he recognized that voice. It wasn’t his Uncle Jack or Dr. Kukulcan. Maybe it was one of Uncle Jack’s captains. He didn’t really care, as long as the man had come to free him.
Preston’s mind wasn’t working right. Everything seemed to move in slow motion as though clicking frame by frame through a movie on DVD. Hollow sounds bounced off the dark block walls that seemed to surround him. He could only see the teenage boys in front of him...and a taller black image at the far end of the alley. No cape. It wasn’t Batman. Maybe it was the Shadow.
The world started to fade away when Preston was abruptly dropped to the concrete. He had just enough sense left to put out his hands to break the fall but his knees slammed into the hard surface.
On all fours, his head a mere foot from the smell of sour-milk and pee emanating from the stones of the alley, Preston threw up.
He sucked in a gasp of air. His mind kicked in with a rush of blood he could hear in his ears. Preston glanced around for a way to escape. At the end of the alley nearest the ice cream store, the Shadow had the gang of boys leaning against the wall, arms and feet spread like cops did in TV shows.
At the other end, Bruce Wayne in his suit and tie, taunted the man who had tried to suffocate him. A glint of light reflected off a really big knife in the bad man’s hand.
Oh, no. If the bad guy killed Bruce Wayne, he’d take that knife to me for sure.
Preston mastered his fear and shoved it aside as he got to his feet. He had to help Bruce Wayne. He tried to take a step but his brain wasn’t working right, and he was back on his hands and knees. He was going to be sick again.
He lifted his head as the bad guy charged at Bruce like a bull in the arena. But Bruce twisted so fast Preston wasn’t exactly sure what he’d seen. Then Batman stepped in and caught the arm with the knife and shoved it up in the air. When he brought it back down, the alley echoed with the crack of bone and a scream of pain. The knife rattled to the concrete and Bruce kicked it away.
Black forms solidified behind Bruce yelling “Policia. Halt.”
Bruce punched the man in the face. “Fucking pervert.”
The bad man might be dead. Preston wanted to jump for joy but he wanted to throw up more so he stayed on his hands and knees, eyes closed, hoping his brain would quit doing summersaults. Maybe his stomach would stop then too.
“Preston?” Bruce Wayne came closer. “Son.”
Dad. My dad came to save me. My dad is Bruce Wayne?
“Where are you hurt?” The voice was familiar, but not quite right. It didn’t sound like his dad, but maybe his hearing wasn’t back to normal yet. His head certainly wasn’t.
“Preston.” Insistence pushed through the man’s voice. “Are you hurt, son?” No. Not his dad.
Preston opened his eyes and focused on Josh Madden. “You’re really Batman?”
The situation was more than his mind could handle. Bright flashes of light filled Preston’s eyes before they rolled up toward the strip of blue sky above the alley as he watched the world fade to night.
Chapter 10
Hell, no. Preston was injured. Maybe dying.
Josh had to get him to a hospital. Now.
He scooped the small boy into his arms and ran toward Ed who was yelling instructions down the alley to the city police who had taken possession of the fucking asshole who’d hurt Preston.
Josh wasn’t sure where or how the boy had gotten hurt, just that he’d passed out right in front of him.
The kid smelled like puke. Those damned gang bangers may have punched little Preston in the gut. Broken a rib. Punctured a lung. A dozen scenarios fled through Josh’s mind, none of them good, all based on personal experiences with his SEALs.
He said a small prayer for his luck to continue. Ed had been showing him the back streets where a growing Muslim community lived behind their shops that lined the main drag of the Hotel Zone. They’d been stuck in traffic while a woman made several attempts to parallel park. Ed had noticed activity in the alley and recognized a man with the Los Zetas tattoo. Then Ed had seen the teenage boys and a flash of blond hair on a small child.
Nothing good could come of that scenario.
They’d formed a quick and simple plan just before Josh shoved Ed’s back-up gun next to his spine and jumped out of the armored SUV.
It wasn’t until he’d secured the bad guy
that Josh realized they had Preston. The thought of what could have happened to the boy in his arms—the child he’d played with in the Girard pool and sat beside at breakfast just that morning—drove Josh to run faster toward the bright light at the end of the alley. The boy could have been kidnapped and sold into the sex slave trade. Or simply killed for the one-hundred dollar shoes he wore.
“Preston!” Lilly’s scream was both a relief and a shot to his heart. Pleading, dark brown eyes rimmed with unshed tears looked from Josh to her son.
“He’s alive.” He gently laid Preston down on the sidewalk at her feet. He felt for a pulse. Slow and weak, but it was there. He gently moved the child’s head side to side, rubbing his fingers lightly over the scalp. When he found no blood or bumps, he exhaled a long, slow breath. Thankfully, he’d caught the boy before his head hit the concrete.
Josh lifted the stained shirt searching the small pale chest for red marks or darkening bruises. None. With light squeezes, he checked Preston's arms and legs. All seemed fine except for the bloodied knees which had superficial wounds like those on his hands. “I think he just passed out, but we need to get him to a doctor.”
Relief washed over Lilly’s face before the confident woman-in-charge took over. “I’ll get my car.” She glanced down at her youngest son who held her hand tightly, chin quivering, unsuccessfully fighting tears.
She bent to grab Greyson, and he stepped away from her. “No, Mommy.” He knelt next to Preston. “I want to stay here. Preston...” He sniffed. “Can I stay with Preston? Please?”
She stared at both her boys as though unable to leave them.
Josh looked up into her worried eyes. “I’ve got them both. Now go get the car.”
“Greyson, I need you to stay right here, with Josh. Will you do that for me? And don’t you dare leave his side. Do you understand?”
Silver streaks tracked down both cheeks as the small child nodded. He immediately latched onto Josh’s sleeve.
With the beauty of a gazelle, Lilly ran in high-heeled sandals down the block, leaving Josh alone with the two little kids.
