Maddox hisses a warning at me and I scowl. I may be a little overconfident now that I have some worthwhile ammunition to use against this bastard. It’s just a matter of stringing him along, letting him think he has me cornered. But I shouldn’t provoke him as long as he has Callie.
“I would’ve done it already if you hadn’t made some deal with Zavala to protect you. And here I thought exposing you for the fraud you are would compel him to do the job for me. What the fuck were you doing for him in Denver, anyway?”
I raise my eyebrows at Maddox. The fact that Gustavo’s this clueless can work to my advantage too. He doesn’t know Zavala was only protecting his investment in Denver, and he’d have happily killed me himself if I hadn’t delivered. He also doesn’t seem to have a clue that I was undercover the entire time I was working for Zavala.
“I’m not telling you shit. But if you lay a fucking finger on Callie, I’ll end your miserable goddamn life.”
He lets out a vile laugh. “Don’t tell me this one actually means something to you, the man who had so little to live for he was happy with whatever pussy he fell into each night. You and I both know your life is as worthless as your old man’s.”
My vision goes red at the edges, and Maddox gently extracts the phone from my hand. “Just tell us what to do, asshole.”
Gustavo laughs. “Sounds like we’ll have a nice little reunion. Maybe I can kill two saints with one stone. I warn you, I’m ready for any surprises. Come to the address I text you when we hang up and be prepared to bleed. If you don’t show in thirty minutes, the pretty doctor won’t be so pretty anymore. Every minute you’re late, she’s getting a new bruise, and if I get wind of any of Arturo’s men coming to help, I’ll pull out the jumper cables.”
The call ends with a beep, and a second later a text message pops up, but it isn’t an address. It’s a photograph of Callie, gagged and bound to a chair in what looks like some dank basement. Her blonde hair is a tangled mess around her face and her shirt is ripped at the collar, but she looks more pissed than scared. Her expression makes me love her even more.
The address appears just beneath the image, and I recognize the location. It’s a pool hall in a sketchy neighborhood south of here.
“Let’s go. If we get a taxi, we can make it with time to spare,” I tell my brother. When he gives me a dubious look, I glance down at my sleeping daughter and cut myself off from uttering another curse. Fuck, I really need to get a handle on the language from now on.
“Wait a sec.” Maddox reaches for one of the other shopping bags on the bed. From inside, he pulls out a black contraption with straps like a backpack, except it’s obviously not a backpack. It looks more like tactical gear. “Hold up your arms.”
I obey, and he slips the straps over my shoulders then leans down to snap a couple buckles in front, beneath what appears to be a heavy-duty polyester mesh pouch. Staring down into it, I see holes at the bottom.
“No shit. It’s a fu—it’s a baby carrier.”
“Tactical baby carrier, is more like it,” Maddox says as he carefully unbuckles Zoe and lifts the snoozing baby out of her car seat. She’s so peaceful it feels wrong to disturb her, but she barely makes a peep as he slots her into the big pocket with her cheek against my chest and her feet dangling underneath.
My hands come up to cradle her butt automatically and I crane my neck to look into her scrunched-up face. Her little fist is shoved into her mouth, the tiny knuckles wet with drool as she gnaws it in her sleep, and I can see two little teeth peeking through her lower gums. She didn’t have those the last time I saw her.
My throat tightens up and it’s weirdly hard to swallow. I take a shaky breath and rest my hand over her soft, round head. It’s covered in a little yellow beanie, but she’s like a miniature furnace under my touch. I blink rapidly to hold back the wash of alien emotions.
“You okay?” Maddox asks, peering closer at me with a slight smirk.
I clear my throat, sniff, and nod. “Yeah, just had something in my eye. I’m good.”
“Right,” he says giving me a dubious look. “We should get moving if you’re comfortable enough with this getup. I figure it distributes her weight well enough that you can hold onto her.”
“It’s fine. But you’re not going with me.”
39 Callie
When my captor hangs up the phone, he slips a hand into the pocket of his jeans and pulls out a set of brass knuckles. He slowly slots his fingers into the holes, then flexes his fist. His smile stretches absurdly wide as he closes the distance, and I flinch when he raises his fist and grazes my cheekbone lightly with the ridged metal, which is warm from his body heat. This asshole’s some kind of fucked-up sadist, and the fact that I’m shaking like a leaf just seems to encourage him.
“I think I’ll start with this pretty mouth of yours,” he says, drawing the metal down and across my lower lip. The ridges bump painfully against my teeth. “I bet this is J.J.’s favorite part of you, isn’t it? I bet you’re good at sucking dick.”
I can only glare at him. I’ve given up struggling or trying to speak through the gag in my mouth. The fact that Mason answered the man’s call was enough of a relief that I was able to relax a little, though my trembling hasn’t abated. The call
