Page 20 of Deadly Lust

Grant

IFINALLY ARRIVED AT THE street and made a sharp right turn. Fuck the twenty-five-miles-per-hour speed limit. My son was being held hostage in this house.

I’d spent the drive trying to formulate a plan, but nothing satisfied me. I could bust down the front door and take my son by gunpoint, an act that would surely land me in jail for kidnapping. I also didn’t want to threaten a poor old lady if she had no idea that she was part of some elaborate scheme.

And I still didn’t understand the connection between Joaquín and Tiffany, and my and Mia’s son, but there had to be something. There had to be.

Joaquín had said that Mia had a boyfriend named Julián, which had to have been code. I couldn’t analyze why he needed to talk to me in code, but I knew…I just knew that he was telling me to come find this kid and it would lead me to my answers.

So far, all it told me was that Joaquín knew about my son being here. It made me think that he killed Tiffany because he’d found out she was involved in kidnapping his nephew, and now he wanted me to find him. I just didn’t know why he never said anything to me or Mia about it before.

Then there was Autumn. She’d randomly taken Mia to meet Julián and then showed me a picture of him and gave me the address where he was located. I was grateful that she had, but it just seemed to be too big of a coincidence. What did she know? Was she involved in any part of this mess? She’d been a stripper with Tiffany. They had been at the party together. Hell, I think they came together. What the fuck was going on?

I parked next to the curb—and immediately my stomach dropped.

A few newspapers cluttered the porch and a delivery notice was stuck to the door.

I grabbed my gun from the glove compartment, tucked it in the back of my jeans, and slid out of my truck, Hero by my side. The grass looked a bit long, and the absence of a car in the driveway chilled me. I opened the mailbox but it was empty.

One look inside the window at the vacant house and my worst fears were confirmed.

They were gone.

My son was gone.

Fuck.

I hopped the side gate and jimmied open a window with my Gerber tool. One jump and I was inside, leaving Hero to guard the yard.

The house was empty except for a few cardboard boxes. The floors were filthy and there was an egg carton on the counter, as if someone had left in a hurry.

I walked slowly through the house, looking in closets and opening doors, but they were all empty. No furniture, no toys, and no clothes. I stepped foot into a small blue room, which must have been where my boy slept. The only thing left inside was a ripped Spider-Man poster on the wall.

Then, for the second time that day, I cried.

Fuck.

I sat in the middle of the room, completely lost and disorientated. I didn’t even know where to start.

The silence was broken by a slight sound coming from the closet.

I jumped to my feet and flung open the flimsy folding door.

A small orange-and-white tabby stared back at me.

I didn’t like cats, but if there was even the smallest chance that it was my son’s pet, I wanted her. I scooped her up and held her close to my chest. The thing was so small, she could fit in my pocket.

With one last look at the torn poster, I walked out of the room, down the stairs, and to the front door. I collected the papers sitting there, the oldest of which was delivered three days ago.

I’d been here four days ago.

She knew.

She took one look at me and knew I was Julián’s father.

So she’d bolted.

I punched the wall with my hand.

Where the fuck was my son?

The next time I saw Mia, there was no holding back. This was all her fault. All of it. If she had never left me and had told me the truth about being raped, I would have been with her every step of the way. I would’ve been with her at the hospital. And no one, no one would’ve taken my son.

I would not rest until I was reunited with my son. I would take leave, do anything to get custody of him.

But first I had to find him.