Chapter 36 Zuri
zuri
. . .
Strength evaporated, and dizziness overtook me. Edwin’s letter ordered me to meet him. Alone.
“Where is St. Tammany Regional Airport?” I asked, jamming one foot into the other dress Montana had purchased. I couldn’t see straight. Just a blur of bright colors and itchy-ass material.
“Close, bébé.” He winced.
“You said close—”
“I know that, Zuri.” His Southern accent came out rough, soothing as he pulled his long-sleeved black Henley down. It dropped just over his sweats. “Remember when I told you Darius would be close by when asking to take him to the community center?”
“You-you came into my life.” At this point, I was turning around so he could zip up the tube dress while bad mouthing him. I couldn’t stop. “You should’ve just left me alone!”
The zip snapped upward, then Montana turned me around. “Listen, you gotta get out your feelings, Zuri. Like I told everyone, they weren’t eating my food for no reason. That was me telling my closest fam you’re mine. Darius’s mine, too.”
“I know!” I yelled. Instantly, the anger disappeared, and I wiped hot tears from my cheeks with palms that moved like a broke-down windshield wiper. “I love you, Montana. But you can’t come …” I shook my head, slipping back into my heels. “I mean … it can’t look like you’re with me, okay?”
He nodded. “I’ll figure something out on the drive. While you focus. Don’t get stuck in that 3X head of yours, bébé.”
A laugh choked out of me, and I swiped more tears. “Hey, we’re not supposed to make fun of me during times like this.”
“Nah, you aren’t supposed to.” He pulled out his phone, tugging my hand as I followed him out of the room. By the time we reached the front door, the kids had opened it for Montana’s brothers.
Washington and Ten.
“You can’t come,” I said. Yeah, fear was controlling my thoughts.
Their frowns said they weren’t sitting this out.
“We’ll follow you. In my—never mind.” Washington cleared his throat.
“My car,” Tennessee said. Not sure what that was about. Didn’t care to ask.
After ten minutes, the bright lights behind us from Tennessee’s truck washed out, and Montana’s SUV’s side mirror reflected gloom from the scattered streetlamps.
“Are we almost there?”
“Yeah, they’re going around back,” Montana said just as bright airport lights loomed ahead.
A chorus of bad decisions disco-balled through my brain. I’d been stupid before, but this …?
My eyes flicked to Montana, speeding past a stoplight. He’d told me not to stay stuck in my head. So, I ditched that idea.
“Reach in that compartment.” Montana’s voice was calm. So calm.
I popped the glove box and froze. Cold metal glinted.
He didn’t flinch. “It’s registered, bébé. You scared.”
“Scared? No! I’m mad. He took my—our baby. We got that letter.” I tugged the cold, metallic gun into my hand, feeling a strange sense of power. “Anything we do is self-defense. Or motherly instincts. Both. Depending on the lawyer you can get me.”
That earned a small huff from him. “Zuri …”
“Don’t worry. I won’t flinch.”
“Wasn’t worried about that, bébé. Can you shoot? Dude could’ve brought the Queso Kings.” A sniff cracked the edges of his composure. “I don’t want you in there. At all. You told me things went sideways in New York. Coulda been worse.”
“I can shoot.”
“Good.” He reached beneath his seat and removed another gun and parked on the side of the hangar. He brushed his thumb over my chin and kissed me slow.
Deep.
The kiss anchored me. Powered down the side orders of second-guessing myself and left … focus. For a heartbeat, I wasn’t a momma about to walk into her worst nightmare. I was just … loved.
After another hard kiss, his forehead rested against mine, and his hands claimed the back of my neck, possessive and passionate. “Now, we got his and hers. Hide yours, though. No hero crap, you understand?”
I nodded, lifting until the excess material of my dress was out of the way, and I tucked the gun into the band of the compression shorts I’d taken from Montana. If I had to throw this dress over my shoulders, going commando wouldn’t have been a good look.
“Zuri, get me a clear shot.”
I got out of the truck before I could overthink it. Gravel crunched under my stilettos, each step heavier than the last. Every step a light-year. That’s how I thought when I’d entrusted my baby to Montana. I swore the chilly Louisiana night air thickened just to make me sweat.
The light from the hangar spilled out, and I strolled inside. The scent hit first—rust, oil, deception. Then I saw him.
Edwin stood there like he was auditioning for Satan’s understudy. Before him sat a roller chair, and in it, I found my son. My baby. His arms and legs duct-taped. He clutched Brody to his chest. His little twisties haloed by the overhead light.
“Zuri …” Physician charm oozed from Edwin, a sharp contrast to how he leisurely dropped his gun-fisted hand on my son’s shoulder.
Darius jerked his head up, tears streaming from his face. His voice tiny and trembling, he cried, “Mommy?”
I bit the inside of my cheek hard. Tasted copper. I wanted to pull my gun, but he used a four-year-old as a shield.
Edwin sighed. “Little One.”
I growled. “Don’t call me that. How did you find me?”
He smirked, patting my son’s head. “You mean tonight? Well, property taxes helped with that. Now that you’ve traded up to a Dodger, I need something from you.
I owe the cartel a few more mill. Let’s just make it an even ten million, so I can disappear.
” His thumb brushed over the safety. On. Off. On. Off.
My face leaked with tears. “Okay, I’ll ask Montana for money. Jus-just let my son go.”
“Good. Good. Good. No more horse betting for me.” He chuckled. “Or did you mean how did I find out where you were hiding?”
“Sure? Tell me everything,” I deadpanned. I needed to give Montana and his brothers time to figure out how to take down this demon.
“You went to Paris. Those photos didn’t give you away, however.
Naturally, that country thug tried to keep you a secret.
Hidden.” The doctor mocked, head tilted.
“He droned on and on about his love. He didn’t have a father either.
So, I thought, that’s something sweet. After he’s been neglected, he latches on to the foster throwaway. ”
“Despicable.” Jaw locked, I mentally rehearsed how I’d flip my dress up to get my weapon.
He waved me off with the gun, too amused with himself to care. “However, I saw you before Paris. On E!News. Fancy restaurant in Beverly Hills. You scored a Dodger. I love the Dodgers.”
“You love being slimy, too, so stop touching my son!”
He examined my baby’s twisties with his free hand, as if judging foul sushi.
“Why didn’t you tell me, Little One? We could’ve gotten me free from the Queso Kings.
We could’ve scammed him! But no, you run off with Mr. Bayou Brunch Special!
” He flicked another twisty. This one landed on my baby’s tear-streaked cheek.
“Now, let’s see if you’re worth big money to”—he sneered the words as if he were better—“Big Country.”
“Montana?” Darius whispered, eyes brightening. “M-mommy! Is Daddy here?”
Edwin froze mid-rant, jealousy twisting his face. “What did you say, kid?”
Before I could stop him, Darius straightened up, brave and clutching Brody tightly. “My daddy better than you!”
Edwin’s eyes turned a shade darker than death. The metallic cock of his gun sliced the air, then he fired.