Page 42 of Single Mom for the Firemen

“Hey, baby,”I murmur, my arms trembling as I wrap them around Callie and pull her close. “It’s going to be okay. You hear me? It’s going to be okay…”

Even as I clutch her against my chest, the dingy, dreary light filtering through the grimy window in the cell we’re being held in, I can’t believe the words I’m telling her. And worse, I know she can tell that I don’t have any faith in what I’m saying, and the soft sobs she lets out tell me everything I need to know about just how bad this is.

I still can’t believe it. It feels surreal, being trapped in a place like this. All this time, the threat of the cartel felt abstract, distant, but now…now, they’ve found us. They have dragged us across the forest, a bag over my head and bindings on my wrists, Callie just beside me. When he finally pulled the covering from my eyes, I saw that he hadn’t even tried to restrain her. Probably because he knew there was nothing that would drive her more than seeing me in danger. She would go with me anywhere, even into chaos like this. And now I don’t know what’s waiting for us on the other side.

The guy who took us, he’s got a tattoo on his upper arm—a skull with a snake twisting between the eye sockets and out of the mouth, the stamp of the cartel. I know it well. Of course, I’d only seen the faded version the one-time member who I interviewed was in the process of getting lasered off, not the real one, and the shock of the cold black ink on his bicep sent a shiver of terror through my system. Before, I was able to keep my distance, but now…

Now, I’m in the midst of it. And I don’t know what it will take to get me out of here.

“Hey, hey, baby, you need to get some rest,” I tell her gently as I smooth a hand over her hair. Callie has stopped crying now, but it’s not because she isn’t scared—no, she’s just out of tears to shed. I squeeze her close, another flood of emotion rising up within me. I can’t believe I’ve dragged her into this. How could I have been so selfish, to get involved with a story I knew was this dangerous…?

“I can’t,” she murmurs, and I press a kiss against her forehead.

“How about you lie down on my lap,” I suggest. “And I’ll sing to you? Just like I did when you were a baby?”

She stares up at me for a moment—of course, she’s got no memory of that. But just as soon as the words are out of my mouth, she does as she’s told, laying her head on my lap and closing her eyes as I stroke her hair gently.

I hum to her softly, the sound filling the small room around us. I don’t know exactly where we’re being held, but it looks like an old warehouse of some kind. The room we’re in is empty, but seems like it could have been a central office at one point, if the door with the frosted glass is anything to go by. I’ve already triedto smash it so we can open the door and get out, but it held firm, refusing to budge.

And I don’t know how long that man is going to keep us here before he…doessomething to us. My heart drops at the thought. I have no idea how far he’s going to take it from here. No idea what the cartel are going to do to my daughter and I as soon as they get the chance. I continue to hum quietly to her, brushing my fingers through her hair, but I can sense my voice shaking as I try to hold myself together in the face of what is going on.

When I steal a glance down at her, I can’t help but notice how young she looks—and another jolt of guilt rushes through my system. What was I thinking, getting involved in a story that’s so dark and so dangerous when I knew I had her to take care of? I was arrogant. That’s the only way I can think of it now, pure arrogance—imagining that I would find a way through this, that I would somehow avoid the ire of these people who have rained down holy hell on everyone who dared speak out against them.

I always think I’ll be the exception. I have to think that way, or else I wouldn’t do half of the shit that I have. I told myself that it was for her, for Callie, a way of making the world a better place for her, but there’s a part of me that knows it was purely selfish. Because I wanted to make a name for myself—I wanted to feel good about the career I’ve chosen and the way I’ve decided to go about it. That’s my problem. And now, I’ve pulled her into the middle of it, and I can’t even begin to think about what will happen to her now that they have her.

She falls asleep at last, her chest rising and falling slowly—the tears have dried on her cheeks, and there are dark circles under her eyes where she’s been awake all night. The morning light is beginning to filter through the glass behind me, and I know I should be starting to get tired myself, but honestly, I can’timagine getting any rest, not now. I need to be alert, awake, for anything they might throw at us. I’m still clinging onto the belief that there will be a way out of here if I just play my cards right, though the longer we’re here, the harder that becomes to believe…

And then it hits me. The cameras. The guys set up those cameras at the house just a few hours before this happened. They hadn’t had a chance to check out if they were working yet, of course, but they might have caught something—caught enough that they’re able to string together what happened, and…

And what? Find me? Save us? I’m talking about the cartel here. As much as Jake, Mason, and Killian seem to be able to handle themselves, this isn’t a forest fire, wild and uncontrolled. No, this is focused, planned, carefully cultivated—and I don’t want them losing their lives in the process of trying to save ours.

I put my head in my hands and bite back a sob. I don’t want to wake Callie. I don’t want her to see me like this and understand just how much danger we’re in. Carefully, I pull off my sweater and lay it out under her head, shivering in the tee I have on underneath. I need to get some air, a little space to myself to clear my mind, even though I want nothing more than to just hold her close and find some way to convince the both of us that it’s going to be okay…

But before I can so much as catch my breath, I hear footsteps outside the door. I rush over to it and tap on the glass, trying to attract the attention of whoever is outside.

“Hey!” I whisper-shout through the door, trying my best not to wake Callie. “Hey, talk to me!”

The door opens a crack, and the man who took us is standing there on the other side. A scar runs from the corner of his mouth down his neck, and I shiver as I stare at it, wondering if that’s something the cartel branded him with for failing to do his duty.

“Let me out,” I plead with him, though I know it’s futile. “Please, just let me out, I won’t tell anyone. My daughter and I?—”

“Let you out?” he replies, frowning, as though he’s genuinely confused by the suggestion. “But you haven’t met him yet.”

My stomach drops.

“Met who?”

“The dean. The boss,” he replies.

I widen my eyes. “What are you?—”

“You wrote about him enough in that little story of yours,” the man remarks, waving a hand dismissively. “And you can’t remember his name now? Lewis Jacobson. Ring any bells?”

I have to grab onto the doorframe to keep from falling right there on the spot. Yes, of course I know that name. He’s the head of the cartel—the man who calls the shots, the man who chooses how everything is going to go around here. The man who has been evading the police for years. The man who seems too powerful to bring down, even with all the force that’s been aimed at him.

“He never comes out of hiding,” I shoot back, trying to counter with what little knowledge I have. “He wouldn’t—he didn’t?—”

“For you, sweetheart, he would,” he replies, a smile curling up his lips. A sick tremor of terror courses through me. I can’t make sense of this. I can’t wrap my head around it. He has been out of state for at least the last few months, close to a year, keeping hishead down and making sure he’s not found. And if he’s come out of hiding to meet with me…

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