Chapter 16
ALEX
Twenty minutes ago, I spied headlights on the north side of the field, but there’d been no movement since, no signs of life in the tall grass.
“Do you think the kid’s okay?” Angel asked, interrupting my obsession with the view on the other side of the glass.
“I hope so.” My attention veered to the SUV in front of me, where the guys had stowed Rafe’s son. I’d expected him to run for it the instant they left, but he hadn’t budged, so I figured the ponytail guy’s sharp order to stay put had gotten through to him.
I could have checked on him, could have made sure he was okay—that he wasn’t scared or cold or sick to his stomach from the trauma—but truth be told, I had no idea what to say to a kid who’d just been rescued from the type of harrowing situation he’d come from.
I was too traumatized myself, too much of an emotional wreck, and that made me question if I had what it took to be a mother. The negative thoughts arrowed straight to my belly, and I slid a hand over the life growing there, praying that I’d get it figured out by the time the baby arrived.
“Are you feeling sick again?” Angel asked.
I shook my head. “Just nervous. If Rafe doesn’t come back…”
“You can’t think like that. He has a reputation for winning, right?”
“He doesn’t lose very often.” It was my only comfort in this endless waiting game hell.
Grabbing my hand, she squeezed as her wide eyes zeroed in on something behind me. I turned in time to spot someone approach the vehicle, and it only took a split second to recognize those tattoos winding down toned biceps.
I was out the door and in his arms before I took my next breath. As I wound my legs around his waist, he gripped my ass and braced me against the side of the SUV.
“Jesus, baby,” he said through strangled vocal cords. “I’m so sorry…so fucking sorry.”
I clung to him, tears soaking his skin, failing to breathe in the strength of his tight embrace.
He trembled as he held me, each breath a noisy shudder against my shoulder.
And I couldn’t stand it anymore, the sound of his pain and regret flooding my ears.
Inching back, I pressed my finger to his mouth, only now noticing the evidence of the fight he’d lived through on his beautiful face.
Thank God he’d come back to me.
“Shh,” I whispered, slowly dragging the pad of my finger across his busted lower lip.
There would be plenty of time later for apologies. For guilt and regret. I harbored so much of both I worried the emotions would explode from me. Not giving him a chance to say more, I pressed my mouth to his, heedless of the hint of metallic on his lip.
At the first lick of his tongue against mine, everything but him faded—the field, the SUVs and their occupants, the past six days of separation.
I wanted to mount him right there and drive away the PTSD boiling inside me.
But it sharpened its claws, and I sobbed into his kiss, unable to contain myself.
“I didn’t know if I’d see you again,” I said against his lips.
“I was terrified you wouldn’t.” Slowly, he let me slide to my feet, and we broke apart, putting a few inches of space between us as we fought for composure. That’s when the presence of his son caught our attention.
He stood a few feet away, watching our frenzied reunion with a mixture of curiosity and fear, and it struck me in the heart how much he looked like Rafe. I recalled setting eyes on him for the first time at the basketball game Rafe had taken me to last winter.
The day he told me about Will’s existence.
“It’s okay,” Rafe told the boy, lowering to his haunches. “You’re safe with us.”
“Can I go home now?” Will chewed on his lower lip, hesitant feet backing him up a step. He didn’t quite trust us, and he’d be smart not to. Not because we posed a threat to him, but we were virtual strangers, and any child his age should have a healthy dose of caution when it came to people.
Maybe that was a jaded outlook, but that was the world we lived in.
Rafe stood with a nod. “Yeah, buddy. You can go home now.” Gesturing to the SUV from which Will had just escaped, Rafe dug into the pocket of his jeans for a key. “Get in and buckle up. We’ll be there in a minute.” Something about Rafe’s tone had the boy scrambling to do his bidding.
“He listens to you,” I said, lacing our fingers together.
“I don’t know how, but I gained his trust in that place.”
“Maybe he senses the connection there.”
“I wondered the same thing.” Rafe opened the back passenger door of the second vehicle and gave Angel a grateful nod. “Thanks for taking care of my girl.”
“I didn’t do anything.”
“I’m sure that’s not true. You were here supporting her. Supporting us both. I don’t know what we would have done if you and Jax hadn’t stepped in.”
“That’s what friends do, right?”
“We’re more than friends. We’re family.”
Rafe’s declaration burrowed under her protective armor, and her mouth creeped up at the corners. “Go take your boy home.”
“I’m on it. I just wanted to check on you first. Jax and the others should be back soon. Will you be okay here by yourself?”
“I’ll be fine. A deserted field after dark isn’t the scariest situation I’ve faced.”
That was a gross understatement, and I wanted to reach out and hug her for all she’d been through, for all she’d forged through since Jax had broken her free of the sex slave trade.
We said our goodbyes then joined Will in the SUV. Rafe put an address into the GPS—Will’s grandparents’ house, I assumed—and I wondered if his son would question how he’d known where to go.
But on the ride over, about a forty-five minute trip, Will didn’t ask how Rafe had known where he lived. In fact, he said very little, choosing instead to keep his attention plastered on the scenery outside the window as it whizzed passed.
As soon as we turned onto Will’s street, windshield wipers swiping back and forth to ward off the light drizzle, Rafe killed the headlights. A block later, he slowed then came to a quiet stop outside a house the size of a small mansion that overlooked the ocean.
“Is this where he lives?” I raised a brow.
“Yeah, this is the place.”
“Isn’t this risky?” I lowered my voice. “Shouldn’t we drop him off down the road?”
“It’s risky, all right, but I need to make sure he gets home.”
I couldn’t argue with that. I understood where he was coming from. He’d gone through so much to keep his son safe, and he wasn’t about to drop the ball now.
Rafe turned to face his son. “You can go on in. It’s over now.”
Will glanced between the massive front entrance cast in shadow and Rafe’s stoic expression, his jaw clenched in an effort to keep all emotion in check because this couldn’t be easy for him. “Will they…will those men come back for me?”
“No, buddy. You don’t have to worry about them. I promise you that.” Rafe gestured toward the house. “Go on in.”
The boy sized up Rafe for several long seconds, a plethora of questions cutting across his young face.
He pushed the door open, jumping out of the vehicle, and it slammed in his wake as he took off toward his grandparents home in a full-on run.
As small fists pounded on the front door, Rafe tightened his hands on the steering wheel, preparing to flee.
One, two, three, four…
“C’mon, answer the fucking door,” he muttered.
Five, six, seven, eight, nine, ten, eleven…
Someone inched the door open, and Will launched himself into the arms of an older woman.
Rafe shot off down the street, and we both prayed the cover of night would protect us from detection.