Page 15 of Rectify

“Get what?”

“Mateo isn’t yours. You don’t owe me anything. But I had to ask.”

“Where are you going?” he asked as she reached for the door.

“To get my son back.”

“Freeze!” he ordered, amazed when she actually obeyed him. “Come here.”

She shook her head.

Aedan took a few steps forward. “Natalya, if I have to come to you, I’ll fling you over my shoulder and carry you back into the room. Come here.” He’d never been firm with her. Instead, he’d always indulged her, placated and cherished her. But that timehad passed. He’d changed, and he refused to hide any parts of himself.

He braced himself, ready to run after her if she took off. He half expected her to grab the vase sitting on the side table and hurl it at his head. But she just turned and stared at him.

“Why?” she whispered.

“We haven’t finished talking.”

“He’s not yours, Aedan.”

Damned if that didn’t sting. “I get that. But you came here to ask for my help. The least you owe me is an explanation.”

“Does that mean you’ll help me?” Her gaze turned hopeful.

Yes, of course.“Maybe.”

He didn’t understand the urge to help her or why he should care. But he did know that she wasn’t walking out that door. Not until he was ready to let her go anyway.

She’d come here for his help, and it was going to be on his terms.

Aedan held out his hand. “Come here.”

Why didshe feel like a fly about to become entangled in the spider’s web?

Aedan had a look in his eyes that said he wouldn’t back down or give in. The dominance in his voice both worried and intrigued her.

Natalya stepped forward and took his hand. Pleasure zinged through her blood, surprising her. Aedan’s eyes widened as though he’d felt it as well. He immediately dropped her hand; instead, placing his hand on the small of her back, he guided her down the passage to the room they’d just come from.

“I wasn’t really sure you’d help me,” she whispered.

“Then why did you come looking for me?” he asked, puzzled.

“Because you’re my only hope. You and Rogan. And I couldn’t give up hope. I have to try everything. He’s my baby.” The last word was said in a sob, and she pursed her lips, determined not to break down. She needed to stay strong. Mateo needed her.

When she walked back into the sitting room, Rogan handed her a glass of whiskey.

“Here, thought you could use this.”

“Gracias,” she replied, nearly collapsing into the chair. “You’re being so nice to me, and I was always such a bitch to you.”

Rogan’s lips twitched. “Yeah, you were. But with good reason.”

“No.” She shook her head. “I know that not everything is black and white. I have no business judging anyone else for the choices they make.”

“That’s not important right now,” Rogan assured her. “Tell us about your son and how you think we can help.”

“Mateo is two. His father, Diego Mota, is a lieutenant for the Fuerte Cartel.” She took a sip of whiskey, hoping it would lend her courage. “Diego isn’t a decent man. He’s done some terrible things, but I never thought he would take Mateo.”

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