stopping me as I ran.
The second one freezing everything inside me.
I turned, Mateo’s loud sobs rattling in my ear as I pressed him close to me, my grip loosening only for a second as I spotted Alejandro running toward us as Smoke leaned against the doorframe in that small green cottage, one hand gripped on the frame and the other over his chest.
And then, his knees buckled, and Dimitri fell to the floor.
19
Maggie
Dimitri was still and lying on the floor. I could make out his feet and the curve of his leg as I fell to my knees, holding Mateo against my chest. “No…no.”
Something splintered inside me.
Little fractures that had been my heart frayed further apart as I watched him lying there, not moving, ignoring my silent prayers begging him to get up.
Dimitri … please...
Alejandro tried pulling me to my feet, but I slapped his hand away, the movement making Mateo scream. Then, he tried again, this time using the gun under my chin.
“That gringo is dead. I put two bullets in him.” His voice was clearer now, and I recognized the tone, understanding what he’d been doing with Reynolds next to the monitors. Whatever he needed to keep him sharp also kept him lethal and Dimitri had paid for it.
He slid the gun to my throat, his voice sharper as he yelled at me, spittle hitting my cheeks. “Now…don’t…if you…you wanna join him go. But you’re not taking my son. Get in this fucking boat.”
Please get up.
It was only Mateo’s clutching hands on my shirt and his loud cries of “mama!” that made me move. That was scarier to me than the muzzle at my throat.
“Where…where are you…taking us?” I asked, finally getting to my feet.
“Reynolds isn’t the only one that can make connections. Go. Move,” Alejandro said, waving the gun.
I flinched every time he did, curving my body, pulling Mateo away from the end of that gun. He seemed to know we were in danger because his cries got worse, his sobbing doubling. I stopped walking, pulling my son against my chest, trying to sound calm as I whispered in his ear.
“What’s the problem?” Alejandro said, darting toward us, the gun still in his hand. “Here, give him to me.”
“Don’t touch him! He doesn’t know you!”
“And whose fault is that?” He pulled at my hair, his behavior erratic, even for him, before he pushed me down the pier, leading me by the hold he had on my hair.
Tears pricked in my eyes and leaked down my face as the pain from my scalp intensified. As I continued to pray for a miracle. Please get up, I begged Dimitri.
Alejandro glanced at me, pausing to look at my face. “You’re stupid, crying over that gringo. Men like that, they get bored fast. You’re better off with me…we’ll be a family. Us and our son…finally.”
“We have a family…with Dimitri and his parents and Vi and our town.” I elbowed him in the ribs, making him drop his hold on my hair.
He was a damn junky. There was no way I’d let him jerk me around like that. There was no way I’d let this pendejo think I’d go away with him without putting up a fight.
“That’s Mateo’s family. Dimitri is his father. He’s the only father he knows, and Mateo loves him. They love each other!”
“Shut up! Shut your mouth!”
But I wouldn’t.
I had to fight.
The boat was ten feet behind me. That boat would lead us nowhere. If we got on that boat, we’d die. All of us. If we got on that boat, we’d never see our family again.
“You don’t want us, Alejandro. You…you…killed Dimitri.” A sob stuck in my throat and I wiped my face, ignoring how his nostrils flared, how he pushed me farther down the pier. “You can leave and have whatever those people offer you for kill…killing him. All the drugs you want and…”
“No, Maggie…I won’t leave without my boy. He’s my son. Mine.”
The boat was anchored next to two kayaks, one of which floated halfway in the water. Alejandro grabbed my arm, jerking me toward the boat, making like he’d help me onto it, but I pretended to slip, spotting the paddle barely dangling to the hanging kayak sticking out of the seat.
“Hurry!” he yelled, his voice croaking as he moved to unhitch the tie, not paying attention to me as I got to my knees.
Mateo clung to my shirt, his fists in a death grip on the fabric and his hot, wet face dampening