Page 116 of His Wild Attraction

I knew we shouldn’t have stopped, but we were too early for our appointment to visit the preschool we were considering. Plus, it was a bright and sunny November morning, perfect for some outdoor fun.

“Sammy?!” I called again, ducking around a tall tree to check behind the slide.

In the summer, there would be sprinklers in that park, bathing the children with cold water from tiny little spouts on the hippos. I couldn’t wait for Sammy to see it then, but right now, I needed to find him.

There were only a handful of people there, and I became more and more frantic as the seconds ticked by. I only glanced at my phone for one second to check the time, but it must have been long enough for Sammy to wander.

Shit.

Fuck.

I was a bad mother.

No.

I shook my head. That was ridiculous. I was not a bad mother. I loved my son, and I took good care of him. He probably just got distracted by some squirrels or something.

My heart tightened. I couldn’t breathe. I was starting to panic.

Where was he?

It felt like my soul was about to shatter.

I wanted to scream. To rant. To rave. I wanted Andres.

He would help.

He would find Sammy.

“Sammy? SAMMY!” I screamed, ignoring the pitying glances of strangers as I raced from one bench to the other.

“Hey, are you okay?”

“My son! I-I can’t find my son,” I whimpered.

I tripped over my own two feet, landing hard on my knees, and tearing my pants. I bit back my tears and pushed myself off the ground.

“Mrs. Ramirez! This way,” Eduardo, the man Andres assigned to be our bodyguard, called my name, just as he took off down a path.

My heart stuttered inside my chest. If the bodyguard was running that meant one thing.

Someone took Sammy.

Someone bigger than him.

Someone who could hurt him.

No. No. No!

A scream tore from my throat, and I started to run as fast as my short, chubby legs could carry me.

People passed by in a blur, but I kept my sight zeroed in on the bodyguard who was pounding the pavement, gun raised and pointed at a man holding my son.

He’d stopped behind one of those smaller brick buildings that were scattered across the park for whatever reason. I whipped my head from side to side, but no one was around.

Arms wide, I tried to approach the dirty man holding my boy.

“Stop! Drop your gun or the boy dies!” a familiar voice snapped.

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