Page 57 of Devil's Claim

As I shifted my head, so did he. Our lips touched.

My heart stopped.

Our worlds had collided.

He held me in place for a few seconds but stiffened. I sensed he didn’t like seeming soft in front of his men. As I backed away, I nodded once again and turned toward Benito. With his help, I took my son into my arms.

And almost lost it again.

Kruz followed me to Maverick’s bedroom, waiting at the door while I placed the little man under the covers. I took my time pulling the sheets under his chin.

His eyelids fluttered open just then. He was so sleepy, so adorable.

“Mama?” he asked.

I nodded, fearful if I said anything he’d know how upset and relieved I was.

Jerking up, he threw out his arms. I thumped down on the bed, holding him close and once again turning my head toward the man who’d brought him back to me.

Kruz’s massive figure filled the doorway. He was so strong.

So powerful.

His head was leaned against the door jamb just watching our interaction.

“I love you, baby. Mommy’s right here. I’m not going anywhere.”

Maverick clung to me for a few seconds, but I could feel his little body returning to sleep. I gently eased him onto the pillow and almost immediately he rolled over. Just being able to run my fingers through his tufts of hair was the greatest joy. I held back another sob and hummed my baby’s favorite song.

When I was certain he was fast asleep, I turned on the little light next to his bed before standing. The chill inside remained and part of the reason was knowing whatever Kruz had done to bring my son back to me had been horrible,

Yet inside, I was happy, thrilled and in truth, hopeful the bastard who’d stolen my baby had gotten what should have come to him a long time ago.

What did that say about me?

Maybe Kruz and I were more alike than I’d wanted to admit.

My feet were heavy, breathing difficult even though the crush of relief brought so much joy. As soon as I was in the hallway, Kruz pushed me against the wall. He remained gentle, but he wasn’t going to let me go until we talked.

“Malcolm won’t allow this to happen. He’ll call the police. I don’t know what I’ll do then.”

“He won’t call the police, Christine. I made certain of it.”

I lifted my head, glancing back and forth. “You killed him.” Was I asking a question or making a statement? Why was there no emotion in my voice?

“As I told you before, it’s better not to know. However, I did what I needed to do. You deserve to be with your son. But now, you need to do something for me.”

“What?”

“You need to pack quickly and come with me.”

“To Spain.”

“Yes.”

I looked away, trying to rationalize what I could say to keep him from taking me away from my home. Yet other than Chloe, what reason did I have for staying? A dead-end job and a possibility the police would be breathing down my neck.

The heat of his body was oppressive.

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