my body. I took a deep breath, hoping to calm my nerves.
After a few miles, I noticed a blue late-model Cadillac a few cars behind me. At first I hoped it was only heading the same direction as me. So I slowed my car, and it slowed behind me. I changed lanes, it changed lanes also. Dread filled my body.
I was being followed.
Hell, no. I would lose the car.
I swerved around another car and then pressed on the gas. My eyes kept glancing at the rearview mirror. The car was still on my tail. Dammit.
The freeway twisted up ahead. I refused to exit, not wanting to isolate myself. But the traffic was thin and the moon was dim. I sped along the highway, hugging the curves. Another glance in the mirror, and I knew I was screwed.
A loud boom that sounded like a gunshot rang out behind me, followed by the crinkling of metal and the popping of an air bag. Before I knew what was happening, my car barreled down an embankment and a sharp pain blasted through my body. The honking of horns and whizzing of cars added to my confusion as my face was crunched up against the air bag, stifling my screams. There was a gash on my forehead, and blood trickled down my face, pooling in my seat, making me wet and sticky. I arched my back, attempting to turn my throbbing neck to see what had happened, when glass flew by my face, followed by an angry man’s voice.
“Get the fuck out of the car.”
I arrived at the address Autumn had given me. The neighborhood contained a bunch of tract homes, uniform manicured lawns, and proud American flags. Julián’s house seemed less vibrant than the rest on the street: the paint was chipped and faded, the grass was patchy, and there was a crack in the sidewalk. There was no vehicle in the driveway, and the lights were out in the house, so I assumed no one was at home.
The sun was still bright, and I didn’t want to be conspicuous, so I drove slowly around the neighborhood, grabbed a real estate flyer, and took Hero down to a local park that had a view of the house. And waited.
After a few hours of playing with Hero, running through one of those stupid park exercise obstacle courses, and screwing around on my phone, I finally saw a car pull into the driveway.
I walked Hero up the street, pacing myself, praying I would get there in time to see Julián before his grandma hustled him into the house.
The lady was holding a few plastic grocery bags and attempting to get the young boy out of his car seat.
I commanded Hero to sit, and approached her. “Can I help you with those, ma’am?”
She turned and looked at me, her skin wrinkled, her brow furrowed. “I’m fine, thank you.”
I wasn’t going to give up that easily. “It’s no problem really. I’m Grant, my fiancée and I are looking to purchase a home in this neighborhood. Do you like living here?”
She let out a huff, and shoved a plastic bag in my hand. “Yeah, it’s a nice community. Very safe, perfect for raising my grandson.”
I grabbed the rest of her bags, and she wriggled Julián out of the car. My eyes fell on this little boy, cutest kid I’d ever seen. Thick, dark hair, almond-shaped hazel eyes, tanned skin.
He looked like a perfect blend of Mia and me.
My hands shook, and my heart pounded. I wanted to rip him out of her hands and take him away from her. But I had no proof, only a haunting suspicion. Kidnapping a kid, even if he could potentially be mine, was definitely out of the question.
I took the bags to her doorstop. She fumbled behind me, clutching Julián’s hand. The little boy looked up at me, blinking rapidly, and all I could focus on was his long eyelashes, Mia’s eyelashes.
Did Joaquín know? Is this why he killed Tiffany? Had she kidnapped my child? What the fuck was going on?
The lady didn’t open the front door. She probably thought I was some rapist. I was glad she was safety conscious, considering she could be raising my child.
“Well, thanks for helping. I think there is one for sale down the
After a few miles, I noticed a blue late-model Cadillac a few cars behind me. At first I hoped it was only heading the same direction as me. So I slowed my car, and it slowed behind me. I changed lanes, it changed lanes also. Dread filled my body.
I was being followed.
Hell, no. I would lose the car.
I swerved around another car and then pressed on the gas. My eyes kept glancing at the rearview mirror. The car was still on my tail. Dammit.
The freeway twisted up ahead. I refused to exit, not wanting to isolate myself. But the traffic was thin and the moon was dim. I sped along the highway, hugging the curves. Another glance in the mirror, and I knew I was screwed.
A loud boom that sounded like a gunshot rang out behind me, followed by the crinkling of metal and the popping of an air bag. Before I knew what was happening, my car barreled down an embankment and a sharp pain blasted through my body. The honking of horns and whizzing of cars added to my confusion as my face was crunched up against the air bag, stifling my screams. There was a gash on my forehead, and blood trickled down my face, pooling in my seat, making me wet and sticky. I arched my back, attempting to turn my throbbing neck to see what had happened, when glass flew by my face, followed by an angry man’s voice.
“Get the fuck out of the car.”
I arrived at the address Autumn had given me. The neighborhood contained a bunch of tract homes, uniform manicured lawns, and proud American flags. Julián’s house seemed less vibrant than the rest on the street: the paint was chipped and faded, the grass was patchy, and there was a crack in the sidewalk. There was no vehicle in the driveway, and the lights were out in the house, so I assumed no one was at home.
The sun was still bright, and I didn’t want to be conspicuous, so I drove slowly around the neighborhood, grabbed a real estate flyer, and took Hero down to a local park that had a view of the house. And waited.
After a few hours of playing with Hero, running through one of those stupid park exercise obstacle courses, and screwing around on my phone, I finally saw a car pull into the driveway.
I walked Hero up the street, pacing myself, praying I would get there in time to see Julián before his grandma hustled him into the house.
The lady was holding a few plastic grocery bags and attempting to get the young boy out of his car seat.
I commanded Hero to sit, and approached her. “Can I help you with those, ma’am?”
She turned and looked at me, her skin wrinkled, her brow furrowed. “I’m fine, thank you.”
I wasn’t going to give up that easily. “It’s no problem really. I’m Grant, my fiancée and I are looking to purchase a home in this neighborhood. Do you like living here?”
She let out a huff, and shoved a plastic bag in my hand. “Yeah, it’s a nice community. Very safe, perfect for raising my grandson.”
I grabbed the rest of her bags, and she wriggled Julián out of the car. My eyes fell on this little boy, cutest kid I’d ever seen. Thick, dark hair, almond-shaped hazel eyes, tanned skin.
He looked like a perfect blend of Mia and me.
My hands shook, and my heart pounded. I wanted to rip him out of her hands and take him away from her. But I had no proof, only a haunting suspicion. Kidnapping a kid, even if he could potentially be mine, was definitely out of the question.
I took the bags to her doorstop. She fumbled behind me, clutching Julián’s hand. The little boy looked up at me, blinking rapidly, and all I could focus on was his long eyelashes, Mia’s eyelashes.
Did Joaquín know? Is this why he killed Tiffany? Had she kidnapped my child? What the fuck was going on?
The lady didn’t open the front door. She probably thought I was some rapist. I was glad she was safety conscious, considering she could be raising my child.
“Well, thanks for helping. I think there is one for sale down the
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