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“What?”
“You heard me,” my voice raises.
“Okay, fine but don't think you'll walk out of here easily with the kid. Forget him and save yourself.”
“I didn't ask you to keep speaking.” I'm glad he did though because it confirms who he is. Mr. Christmas himself. How did I get it wrong before?
He nods and I follow him out the door. He rushes down the stairs, and I try my best to keep up with him, running low on energy from lack of food and water. “Slow down. If you run, I'll kill you.”
His speed decreases and he approaches the back door slowly. He leads me off the back porch and to a pool house.
“Where are the other men?”
“There's never more than a few here at a time.”
As I walk closely behind him, I use the phone to text my brother, not trusting anyone else. I tell him to trace this number and location if he can. I also send him a picture of the yard and back of the house before sliding the phone into my only empty pocket. My brother has the ability to do what most people can't.
The man in front of me knocks on the door and I hide on the side, staying out of sight, keeping the gun on him with my finger over my lips. He swallows hard, shoving his hands in his pockets as the door opens.
“What is it now?” someone asks, their voice filled with concern.
“We have an issue, boss. The asshole cop killed someone else.”
“Where is he?”
“I don't know. I've checked the whole house and he's gone.”
The other man grunts, slamming his fist into the door. “What do you mean gone?”
“The fucker got away.”
The boss huffs out a breath. “Where the hell were you?”
“Upstairs in my room. I heard gunshots, and by the time I went downstairs the front door was open and two men were dead in the kitchen. I'm guessing he ran into the field across the way.”
“Why aren't you going to find him?” he asks. I can’t see him, but I can hear the irritation in his voice.
“I wanted to tell you first and I couldn’t find my phone to call you,” the other man says, his jaw twitching. He’s a terrible liar.
“I'm sure you could have found another somewhere in the house,” the boss states.
“I’m…I’m sorry, boss. I-I wanted to get to you as quickly as possible,” the other man stammers. “Where's the boy?”
“Sleeping. He's the least of our problems right now. I guess I'll fucking handle this myself.” An older man with graying hair steps out of the house, straightening his jacket. “Show me where he went.”
The Christmas guy gulps, glancing my way, and before the older man can fully face me, I shoot him in the face repeatedly. I toss the gun to the ground once it's empty and reach for the second one I grabbed before the other man can get away. Pointing the gun at his leg, I pull the trigger and he falls forward, crashing into the ground. I want him alive. I made him a promise, and I won't leave here until I fulfill it.
I rush his way and lift him to his feet, dragging him to the pool house. He whimpers all the way there, not fully putting weight on his injured side. I enter the house, not letting my guard down the entire time, even when I confirm the building is empty of more guards. I tie the one left alive to a chair with a few zip ties I find in the cabinets and remove his shoes in case he tries any tricks.
Ignacio is in the bedroom, blindfolded and tied to the bed. With my heart aching and anger running rampant, I rush toward him and cut the rope with the knife. He whines and I take off the blindfold, stroking his hair. “I got you. It's time to take you home now.”
“Daddy?” he asks, his eyes partly open.
“Yes. It's me. They won't hurt you anymore. No one ever will again.”
It's a big promise to make but I mean it this time. From now on, I'll know where he is at all times and if someone so much as looks at him wrong, I'll strangle the life from their body.
I lift him in my arms and rush through the living room. I set Ignacio on the couch when I hear the sounds of someone struggling behind me. I knew I was forgetting something.
