Page 79 of Beast

I didn’t have time to deal with her attachment to her captor. I shook her off of my leg. “We don’t want to hurt you, man. Forget you ever saw us. You have no idea who you’re dealing with.”

The dancer laughed. His hand lowered toward his waist, I didn’t have time to disarm him. Too many lives were at stake.

Poppoppop.

His body collapsed forward.

“No!” Annie screamed and tried to run over to him. But I intercepted her and held her back, while Kyle checked the dancer. He was a goner.

I signaled to Kyle. “Send it.”

He threw a stun grenade—we didn’t want to take any chance of another armed man emerging from one of the rooms. A blinding light and booming sound reverberated, leaving anyone left disorientated.

Done. Let’s get the fuck out of here.

Vic went in front of me; the little boy cradled in his arms, Kyle had my back. I walked out of that house, carrying Annie. My heartbeat drummed in my chest. I did it.

She was finally free.

We dashed into the car, then hightailed it out of there.

Annie held her son in her lap and rocked back and forth, tears streaming down her face. Her eyes, which had seemed so disturbed on the night I had met her, were soft, almost filled with an inner glow.

Why hadn’t she told me about her son? Did she think I wouldn’t save her if I’d known? Had I just killed his father?

She held my hand and refused to let go. I didn’t want to let go of her either. I wanted to make sure Annie’s pain had ended and I vowed to protect her until she was safe. This climax, this reunion, we’d both come down from this high soon. The invisible sand hourglass would run out before we both realized it.

14

Annie

THE CAR RACED DOWN THE road, and I didn’t even look at the brothel in the rear view mirror. Was it finally in my past? Could I put this hell behind me?

I rolled down the window and breathed in the air.

Freedom.

The wave of emotions I expected to feel hadn’t hit me yet. I wouldn’t feel safe until I was back on American soil.

My baby cuddled up next to me; his warm skin trembled. I was all he had left—his father was dead. Killed by the man who I’d begged to rescue me. But I wouldn’t shed a tear for my son’s father, after the hell he put me through.

I stroked my son’s hair, kissed his forehead. This wasn’t about me, none of it. If it had only been me, I’d have injected an air bubble in my vein years ago. In Gabriel’s three short years, I’d been the best mom I could be to him, despite being a drug addict. I’d tried to quit, so many times, but his father had forced me to shoot up. Keeping me high was a way to control me, prevent me from escaping. And with possession of my son, I’d do anything he asked.

Gabriel would forever be a reminder of this life. But I loved him! Would anyone ever understand that? Would my family be able to accept him? How could I love the child of a monster? My captor? My kidnapper? A rapist?

Easy. Gabriel was innocent. My angel. He should not be held responsible for the sins of his father. Every cuddle, every “Mama,” every kiss, every hug, made my heart flutter.

I whispered to Patrick. “I’m sorry I didn’t tell you about my son.”

He put his arm around me, his eyes remained fixed on the road ahead. “It’s fine. I’ll take care of you both as long as you need me to.”

No anger, no hint of resentment, just calming words. Didn’t he just kill someone? The father of my child? His steady demeanor chilled me. Who was this man sitting beside me? I had to remind myself he was a trained killer. This was his job.

My baby boy looked up at me, his big eyes brighter than usual. “Mama, where are we going?”

“Home, baby. We’re going home.”

15