by Apryl Baker
“Chucky told me the child’s name is Mateo Ramirez. His father is Juan Ramirez.”
The name tickled a memory in the back of Kade’s mind, but he shoved it aside as he stared at the photo gripped so tightly in his hand, it might disintegrate.
“I got so many good photos of the kid because they were on their way to the airport, heading back to Miami. If I’d been ten minutes later, I’d never have seen him.”
Kade’s head swiveled up to stare at Dylan, his mind going blank for a second as the shock seeped in. “Miami?”
Dylan nodded, a cold and deadly tint to his eyes. “Are you sure your son died?”
The question startled him so much, he lost his grip on the photo, and it fluttered to the desktop. Of course, he was sure Matthew died. The baby hadn’t been viable at twenty weeks. It was impossible.
“The doctor told me…”
“I don’t care what the doctor said. Did you see him? Physically hold him?”
“No,” Kade whispered, his voice rough and hoarse. “The placenta ripped, and he was stillborn. They told me babies that small almost never lived.”
“That’s true enough, but did you see him?”
Kade closed his eyes as memories of that day rushed him. God, he hadn’t thought about this in so long. Almost seven years later, and it still hurt as much as it did the day the doctor uttered the words “I’m sorry.”
“Kade.” Dylan spat his name like a drill sergeant, and it forced Kade to pull himself out of his own grief.
“What?”
“Did you see your son?”
“No. The doctor said they disposed of fetuses that small as medical waste. Hospital policy.”
“That’s a fucking lie. No hospital is going to dispose of your child before you have the chance to see him and decide what you want to do.”
“Jenkins, how would you know what is and what is not hospital policy?”
“Everyone in my family except me is in the medical field, from neurosurgeons to nurses. Trust me when I tell you they fed you a load of horseshit. Now, what hospital was he born in?”
“St. Albans in Miami.”
Kade watched as Dylan took out his phone and tapped a few things, then he put it on speaker for them to both to hear.
“St. Albans Regional Medical Center. How may I direct your call?” The girl’s voice was young and chipper.
“I need to speak with someone on staff who could help me understand the policy regarding premature births.”
“I can transfer you to OB. Someone there should be able to help you. One moment, please.”
The sound of nondescript music floated over the line while they were transferred. The next woman who spoke sounded older. “This Kathy in the birthing center. How can I help you?”
“Hi, Kathy. This is Dylan Jenkins. My wife and I are going to be in town this week. I’m concerned about her going into premature labor, but we are meeting a neonatal surgeon. If something should happen and our little girl were delivered too early, what is your policy on dealing with her afterward?”
“How many weeks along is your wife?” Kathy asked.
“Twenty weeks. If we had any other choice, we wouldn’t even be driving down there, but…”
“Yes, Mr. Jenkins, I completely understand your worry. Should your daughter be born and not survive, you and your wife would have as much time as you wanted with her, and then we’d help make you any arrangements necessary for her.”
Dylan shot an I-told-you-so look at him, and Kade’s hands fisted, the knuckles turning white. Rage vibrated in every muscle. Those lying bastards.
“This has always been your policy?” Dylan asked quietly. “I had a friend tell me some of the hospitals in Florida have the right to dispose of the bodies as medical waste.”
The outraged gasp that left the nurse told them both what they needed to know.
“No, sir. That has never been our policy, and I’d like to see someone try to do that to a child on my watch. You and your wife will be in good hands, should you need us. Let’s hope that’s not the case, though.”
“Thank you, Kathy, for all your time. You’ve definitely put my mind at ease.”
“Of course, Mr. Jenkins. Is there anything else I can help you with?”
“No, that’s all I needed.” He told her goodbye and tossed the phone on his desk. “Kade, I don’t know if he’s yours or not, but I think it’s worth looking into. That boy is the spitting image of you and Nikoli.”
“He was too small.” Kade shook his head, trying to clear the rage enough to think rationally.
“Babies that small can sometimes survive, Kincaid.” Dylan sat back, thinking. “It is possible.”
“But why?” Kade heard the small cry that left him, flinched at the pain and vulnerability in it. “Why would anyone steal a child who most likely wouldn’t have survived more than a few days, a week at best?” He’d done his research after he’d left Miami. Matthew was still just a fetus until twenty-four weeks, not even classified as a child. How could he have survived? And why would someone have taken him—lied to Kade and Angel?
“Ramirez works for Los Muertos.”
The cartel. Kade went cold inside. He killed Tomás’s brother. Maybe Tomás took the one person he loved more than anyone from him because he’d done the same to Tomás. Tomás raised his little brother, would have thought of Miguel as more of a son than a sibling. Tomás would have taken Matthew.
“Why would they take my son, give him all the medical attention he needed, and then not use him against me? Why?”
“Patience has always been their strong suit. If it is your son, then he’s their ace in the hole. The best weapon they can ever have against you.”
“But how can we know if he’s mine?” Fuck, fuck, fuck. What was he supposed to do? “You said they were going back to Miami. Have they left yet? Can we stop them?”
“Yes, they’ve left already, but even if they hadn’t, there’s nothing we could have done. It’s not like we could have snuck into the airport and snatched the kid. TSA would have detained us for hours while they escaped to Miami and then to God knows where.”
“Fuck.”
“We’re not completely screwed.” He dug into his pocket and pulled out several small plastic baggies, their contents ranging from hair to straws. “Chucky is a good friend. He let me into their room, and I collected some samples out of the sink. I even got a kid’s toothbrush they must have left behind in their rush to leave. DNA, my friend, DNA.”
DNA. The one thing that could prove if all this was coincidence or they’d stolen his son from him, letting him and Angel believe the boy was dead all these years. “What do you need from me?”
“A strand of hair and a mouth swab. I already put a call in to a lab where a friend owes me a favor. He can get you results within twenty-four hours once I get this to him.” Dylan handed over another small baggie, and Kade obligingly plucked out a strand of hair. Then he swabbed his cheek and put it into the container Dylan handed him.
“What the fuck do I tell Angel?”
Dylan scowled. “Tell her nothing until we know for sure if this is your son.”
“Matthew,” Kade muttered. “His name was Matthew.”
“My daughter’s name was Molly.” Dylan stood and repocketed all the baggies. “I’m a little worried about Angel. If Ramirez recognized her, that could be the reason he went back to Miami so fast.”
“And the cartel will know where we are,” Kade finished for him. Dammit.
“I’ve already called everyone in for a meeting in the morning. We’ll figure this out.”
“Do you know how they teach their enemies to fear them?” Kade gripped the edge of the desk, the need to overturn it strong, just to vent some of his rage. “Not knowing where we were could have kept Matthew safe all this time. If they suspect anything, they will butcher him and mail pieces to us. He’s only six years old.”
“We’ll need all the military we have on staff for this operation.
We can’t pull Viktor from his assignment. Woman’s ex likes to beat his wife and kid. From what he told me last night, the man is dangerous.”
“I’ll call Conner.” Conner was Viktor’s twin and had spent more time in the military than Viktor. He was part of a special forces unit in the Marines.
“Conner’s a cold bastard. He’ll do.”
As much as Kade wanted to deny it, it was true. His brother, once the most fun-loving of them all, now had a darkness none of them could pierce. Something happened to him during his time in Afghanistan, something he couldn’t or wouldn’t talk about. It worried them, but right now, Kade needed that cold motherfucker.
If that boy was Matthew, God help anyone who got in his way.
Angel yawned and rolled over, automatically reaching for Kade, but he wasn’t there. He’d come to bed well after three in the morning. When she’d checked on him around midnight, he was on the phone, talking in hushed tones, and she’d assumed there was something going on with one of the Kincaid Security & Investigations clients.
Memories of yesterday tried to overwhelm her, and she resolutely pushed them down. Yesterday had been one of the worst days she’d experienced since Matthew died, and she refused to let that happen today. No. Today she was closing on the building where her new bar would be located. She’d seriously considered making it a strip club just to piss Kade off.
She’d been a stripper when they first met, a fact Angel was proud of. She’d made good money and even better friends. Kade, on the other hand, despised men leering at her as she danced. It was one of the few things they’d ever really fought about.
Maybe one day she would open a few strip clubs, providing day or night care for the kids those moms worked hard to feed and keep roofs over their heads. It was something she’d always thought about. The place she worked, the owner had been an ass, firing any dancer who couldn’t come in because of not finding a sitter.
She’d planned on quitting. Men did not pay to see pregnant strippers, but then the baby died. Peter…Angel shook her head and got up. Not dwelling on the past today. There was too much to do.
Taking a shower and brushing her teeth, she got dressed and went to find her missing husband. Their priest had called yesterday to ask if they planned on renewing their vows now that they’d been forgiven for their sins of adultery and finished counseling. Not that she was the one in trouble. She had no idea her marriage with Kade was real and lived her life thinking she’d been duped. There had been a few relationships. Nothing like the string of one-night-stands Kade racked up. Forgetting you were married would do that.
The idea of renewing their vows had excited Angel. She’d put Kade through his paces, dragging him to counseling being one of those. He’d never said a word, but then Angel got the impression he would do anything to make her happy. A smile appeared at the thought.
“Good morning, Mrs. Kincaid.”
Jasper sat at the island eating a bowl of cereal. Security. Dammit, she’d forgotten she had a babysitter. Not that she minded Jasper. He was funny and pretty to look at. She kept that little observation to herself.
“I’ve told you to call me Angel.” She poured herself a cup of coffee and took a sip. “This is good.”
“I’m a coffee snob. It’s my own personal blend.”
Angel laughed at his hoity-toity expression with his nose in the air. “Is Kade in his office?”
“No, ma’am. He already went to the main office.”
“Really?” She glanced at the clock on the microwave. It was barely after eight. “He was on the phone all night. I hope nothing’s wrong?”
Jasper shrugged. “I don’t know. My assignment is to guard you. We’re only told what we need to know.”
“Well, I hope you don’t mind plundering through my new bar. I’m meeting the contractor there at eleven. We need to swing by the bank, sign the papers, and collect the keys first, though.”
“A busy morning, then.” He looked down at his lonely bowl of cereal. “I should have cooked.”
“Your stomach isn’t nearly the bottomless pit mine is. We’ll order pizza as soon as Saul’s opens. It’s just down the street from my new building.”
“I haven’t tried that place yet.”
“Best pizza around. Kade brought it home, and I thought I’d die of food orgasm right then and there. The stuff is better than sex.”
“I’m not sure I’d go that far…”
She wagged her finger at him. “You just wait until that first burst of flavor hits your tongue. It’s amazing!”
“Uh-huh.” Jasper emptied his bowl and put it in the dishwasher. “How soon do we need to be on the road?”
“Ten minutes or so. They’re expecting us at the bank as early as we can get there.”
“Okay. Give me just a few, and then we’ll roll.”
While Jasper disappeared down the hall, Angel got all her things together and shoved them into her very stylish briefcase Jasmine, a friend from her stripping days, had sent her when Angel shared her news of opening her own bar. She and Jas had remained friends after she moved from Miami to Boston. Even though she’d fled Miami and the awful memories there, she refused to let Jasmine become a part of those memories. She was older than Angel, but she was her best friend. Long distance best friend, but that never mattered to the two of them.
Jasper came back a few minutes later and hustled her out to a black SUV, one of the ones KS&I owned. They’d enhanced it with custom security features, none of which Angel knew, but she got the impression they were many and impressive.
It took them a couple of hours at the bank, and they arrived at the very derelict building that would house her future bar. There were several restaurants and businesses up and down both sides of the street in every direction for blocks. Customers would see the construction, giving her a ton of free advertising. Curiosity would bring them to the bar they’d watched be built almost from the ground up, and the service would keep them coming back. Angel knew how to run a bar. She rubbed her hands together like a little kid contemplating tearing into a present on Christmas morning. It was going to be epic.
Jasper had been extremely quiet since they’d come out of the bank, so when he told her to wait in the car until he secured the location, it startled her. Not enough to keep her in the vehicle, however. She rolled her eyes when he shot her a warning look and told her to sit still. Yes, the cartel scared her, but if she focused on whether they knew where she was, she’d drive herself nuts. That was not the goal today. That was yesterday’s game plan.
Today was a whole new plan.
But she’d give Jasper peace of mind and sit still. For a few minutes, anyway.
Angel checked her phone. Three missed texts from Kade. He knew she was closing today. One said he was sorry for skipping out this morning, the next good luck with the bank, and the third simply said “I love you, moye serdste.” It meant “my heart.” He’d called her that since she was nineteen, and it still melted her heart.
Jasper knocked on the window, and she shrieked. Okay, so maybe she was more worried about the cartel than she let on, even to herself.
Jasper shook his head and opened the door for her. “I’m sorry, Mrs. Kincaid. I didn’t mean to startle you. We’re good to go inside.”
“The contractor should already be here. Have you seen him?” She got out of the SUV and grabbed her briefcase and purse. It was going to be a long afternoon, what with all the meetings she had lined up.
“No, ma’am.”
“I swear to God, if you call me ma’am one more time, Jasper Watkins, I will beat you.”
He ignored her and ushered her into the building. It didn’t look like much…yet. Graffiti covered the outside of the place, which was fine by her. Curb appeal would come after the major renovations inside.
The inside was a total mess. At 4000 square feet, it was a massive building, but she planned on putting in a kitchen. She’d done her research and knew the market here better than she had the audience for
Pops’ bar where she worked back in Boston. Her vision for this place was to become the premier spot for the college kids who were only a few blocks away.
Right now, though, she was irritated. Her contractor was late.
“So…about that pizza?”
Leave it to Jasper to remind her own belly she was starved. “You call Saul’s, and I’ll try to reach the damn contractor.”
“You got it.” Jasper had his phone out Googling Saul’s while she searched through her contacts for Jim Bachri, the construction manager. He picked up on the third ring.
“This is Jim.”
“Jim, it’s Angel Kincaid. Someone was supposed to meet me this morning to go through my new building to do an estimate.”
“Chad isn’t there? He’s our estimate guy.”
“No. I’ve been here for a few minutes, and no sign of him.”
“Not to worry. If you can text me the address, I’ll come over myself and do the estimate. I do apologize. He might have gotten stuck in traffic.”
“I understand that, but a phone call or text saying so would have been nice. It’s just good customer service to let the client know you’re going to be late.”
“I assure you, nothing like this will happen again.”
“I’m going to be frank with you, Jim. This first impression has not gone well. If I start having costly delays or things that go way over budget and crews not showing up on time, I will have no problem firing you.” Angel kept her voice even, but she put a bit of a bite into it. She’d dealt with guys like this back in Boston when Pops renovated his bar. They liked to try to sneak things by you.
“I completely understand, Mrs. Kincaid. If you’ll text me the address, I should be able to get there in about thirty minutes, give or take a few minutes.”
Angel agreed and hung up. Hopefully, Jim got the picture that she was not a lady to be fucked with.
Looking around at the garbage, the crumbling walls, and the general filth that covered every surface, she still saw the potential of what it could be. When Nikoli toured it, it had been hard for him to see past the mess, but he believed in her. He was going to front her the money to build the physical bar itself, as well as working capital for her first year for a twenty-five percent stake in the business. Nik had even helped with her business plan and co-signed with the bank so she could get the loan to buy the building and renovate it.
