Chapter 52
Chapter Fifty-Two
Azrael
I’ll be the first to admit that holding a baby in my arms with a grenade in my hand to get assistance from someone with deep connections may come across as extreme, but it was completely justifiable.
There’s absolutely no way in hell Jensen could reach out and ask Owen Stevens for his help, not when my father’s men have eyes everywhere.
So, I concocted the perfect plan: kidnap his woman and child under the guise of needing a memory card with evidence of our human trafficking and auctions on it.
I silently thank Carlos Andreas for being a sneaky bastard and gathering evidence against us of our misdeeds and handing over that evidence to Owen before he died.
I can only hope Owen shows up at my warehouse as I demanded. Alone.
If he’s come with a plan to overthrow me, then he’s sorely mistaken. I’d happily go to war; in fact, with the way I’ve been so full of rage since Hevan’s assault, I welcome the thought of launching retribution. Ideally on the right person, but I’d happily take either at the minute.
The baby coos, and I eyeball him. People choose to have these slobbering things?
It’s the first time I’ve held an infant, and not something I’m fond of, not in this life at least. Maybe in one of Hevan’s dream worlds I would have been a good father, a caring one, and she would have become a schoolteacher, but that’s not our reality, nor is it mine.
Though she still has the ability to have all of that.
Just the thought of her doing it without me makes it feel like my chest is being crushed.
One of my men lifts his chin in my direction, letting me know Owen has arrived, so I lift the baby, walk into the warehouse, and lean against the wall while I wait for him to enter.
Laya, his woman, is gagged and tied to a chair, and I take in the sight before me, as I would if I were in his position. And I’d happily kill myself for it. A smirk toys on my lips.
“Az …” Owen’s mouth moves, but he clamps it shut, his eyes locked on the grenade I placed in the baby’s hand.
He’s powerless and at my mercy, and while normally that would excite me, I feel empty, going through the motions of my plans in order to achieve my aim.
To protect the woman I love.
“Take your shirt off.” I nod toward him, and he narrows his eyes. Then he glances at the baby and moves quickly, pulling his T-shirt over his head, wincing from the gunshot wound he got outside, before dropping it to the floor.
One of my men steps forward and circles him with a scanner, then he lifts his chin in my direction, giving me the all-clear.
He’s not wearing a wire, not that I expected him to, but we can’t be too sure.
“I’m impressed.” I chuckle. “Or should I be concerned?”
He glares back at me, feigning confidence.
“You came unarmed. Or did you?” I cock a brow. Aware that he probably has a backup plan in place, I know I would.
“I did as you asked, Azrael. Now let them go,” he bites out.
“The card.” I wave my hand toward one of my men, and he pulls it from his back pocket and hands it over without so much as a word of negotiation. Is he really this na?ve? Or is it desperation?
You’d do the same, a small voice whispers inside me.
“Follow me,” I bark in Owen’s direction, but he shoulder barges my man out of the way with a sneer on his lips.
I spin to face him.
“He tripped.” He shrugs, and my lip twitches at his arrogance. In another life, I could probably like this man, but he’s simply a means to an end.
I open my office door, and he follows me inside. Jensen shuts it behind us, cocooning us in a small fortress with a baby holding a grenade.
Owen seethes at Jensen, who stares blankly ahead.
“My men have full instructions to blow her brains out if you try anything. Sit.” I point toward the chair opposite me and take the seat behind my desk.
“I gave you the card, Azrael,” he spits out.
“You did,” I confirm in a monotone voice.
I’ve piqued his interest with my nonchalance of the card, and he sits forward.
“What is it you want? You never asked me if I made a copy of the files on there.”
“Did you?” I cock an eyebrow, and the baby coos, causing Owen to jolt.
“No.”
“Okay,” I state.
“Okay? You don’t care about the fucking memory card, so why are we here?” His face reddens, and the tension rolls off him.
But I ignore it. I sit back in my chair and study the woodwork of the desk. “I need you to deliver a package.”
I don’t miss the way he pulls back. “A package?”
“That’s what I fucking said,” I snap, and it causes the baby to fuss. My instinct is to soothe him, to give him some comfort, but not only is his father two seconds away from ripping me apart, I also don’t want to show a weakness.
With years of training, I remain emotionless.
“I need you to deliver a package for me,” I repeat slowly, like I’m talking to an idiot.
“You caused all this for a fucking package?” he snipes.
I hold his eyes and see the moment he realizes there’s more to this than a package. Much more.
He jumps. “A person. You want me to traffic a human?” Horror takes over his face, and I’m quick to reassure him.
“Not traffic a human. I said deliver a package.” The vein on my neck pulsates. She’s more to me than he could ever know, and he’s implying otherwise. So much fucking more.
“A girl?”
I swallow hard, hating the way he’s become aware of a weakness. Even so, what choice do I have?
I need her safe.
The horrors she’s endured can never happen again, and while I might not know Owen personally, I trust Jensen’s word when he says his contacts vouch for him. Besides, what choice do we really have?
“I need you to keep her safe.” My eyes drill in to his. “I need you to use your contacts.”
I need him to provide her with everything I’m unable to.
A future.
“Okay.” He relents so quickly it seems too easy.
“Okay? Just like that?” I tilt my head.
A humorless laugh rumbles in his chest. “You hold my son’s life in your arms, Azrael, and my girl’s. I’d do anything for them. One day you might do the same.” If only he fucking knew, yet staring at him as he delivers his words, I have a feeling he does.
I’m aware of the lengths to which Owen has gone to get his girl. He literally stole her from a married man and planned his execution in order to secure her. “A deal with the devil for a chance of happiness,” he says.
“I just did.” My words are barely a whisper as I push back in my chair and stand. Then I hold his son out toward him, and he practically snatches him from my arms.
“You’re safe, buddy. Daddy’s here,” he coos, and heads out to his life with his small family, and a pang of pain punctures my heart.
The door closes behind him, and I sink into my chair.
I’m about to tear out our hearts, but one day, I hope I prove to her I was worth her holding it in the first place; maybe then we will both be free.