Page 7 of Gator

“Graciella had to leave,” said the familiar voice. Dylan gasped, leaning back against the wall to prevent herself from falling over.

“What are you doing here?”

“I’m here for my son,” he smiled. He stood from the folding chair, smoothing the crease in his pants. An elderly woman came out of the bedroom, Joey wrapped in his blanket and car seat.

“No,” she whispered, panic rising in her throat. “No, please, you can’t do this.”

“I can and I will,” he said. “You took what was mine. I have no desire to worry about you running off on me every chance you get, so I have my son, and I’m happy with that.”

“You can’t do this. I’ll go to the police.”

“And tell them what? That you left the state with my son!” he screamed. “He is mine. Mine!”

“Please, I’ll do anything. Don’t do this.”

“Anything? An interesting proposition,” he grinned. “I’ll tell you what. I have a problem in my business, and it’s caused by a group of men who operate out of this area. Their company is called REAPER-Patriots. They were just on the news. I need to find them so that I can kill them.”

“I’ve never heard of them,” she said, shaking her head. “How can I possibly know how to find them? And why on earth would I want to help you kill people?”

“That’s your problem,” he said, nodding to the nanny. She walked to the door, the bodyguard leaving with her.

“NO!” Hanz gripped her throat, shoving her against the door.

“You are more trouble than you are worth. I won’t harm my son, don’t worry. He’s my legacy. He will have the best of everything.”

“He needs his mother,” she sobbed. “Please.”

“Find those men, and we’ll talk,” he smirked. “Until then, know that my son will be well cared for.” He shoved her to the floor, kicking her side as he left. Dylan gasped for air, crying in pain. She knew she couldn’t stop him. She had no idea who REAPER-Patriots were or where they would be living.

Lying on the floor, she cried and cried, her heart cracking in two. When her phone pinged, she looked down at the message from Sara.

Everything okay? You’ve been gone a while. I can send one of the guys to help if you need it.

She immediately texted back that she was on her way. Maybe, just maybe, Sara knew someone that could help her. She just had to figure out a way to ask for help. If she went to the police, she would have to answer the questions around her pregnancy. Yes, he raped me. No, I don’t have proof of that. Yes, I can provide for him. No, I can’t provide like he can.

Her mind was playing games with her, and she doubted herself more than she anticipated.

“Just get to the cottage,” she whispered. “You’ll be okay.”

When she pulled back onto the property, she stopped in front of her new cottage and wanted to start crying all over again. She tried lifting the last of the boxes from her car, but the pain in her side nearly made her pass out.

“Hey, hey, I can help,” smiled the handsome man she’d run into at the wedding. “I’m Gator. You spilled dinner on me.” He grinned at her, and she nodded, wanting to cry.

“I remember. Thank you,” she said. “Just set them inside the door.”

“Are you okay? You look like you’ve been crying.”

“Oh, I’m just exhausted, that’s all. I think I ran into a doorknob on my way out of my apartment. My side is sore, that’s all.”

“That’s all?” he repeated, staring at her.

“Mmhmm,” she said, trying to smile. He set the last of the boxes inside the door and just stood there.

“Would you like some help unpacking?” he asked.

“No,” she said, shaking her head. It was all she could do to hold back the tears and sense of panic. She was pretty certain that Hanz wouldn’t hurt her son, but it didn’t matter. He’d taken him. He’d taken her son.

“Okay, well, the offer stands if you need any help. I’ll leave you to it.”

---