“I thought you liked the remodel better?”
“My own crew, Maddie.” His blue eyes shone with the possibility.
I lifted myself up on my toes and kissed his cheek. “You’re amazing.”
“No, Maddie, we are. Don’t you see? This will give me the experience to get a job—a real job with money. Pastor Roberto said he’d give me a good reference after I put in the time.”
Time.
I had predicted that I was about five weeks pregnant. However, after what Kristine said, I could be farther along than that.
Three months?
Four months?
“How much time?” I asked.
“Whatever it takes, Maddie girl. We’re going to get that house.”
“With the white picket fence.”
He kissed my cheek. “I’ll see you tonight by dinner. Love you, Maddie girl.”
“I love you,” I called as he hurried past me the direction of the kitchen and cafeteria on his way to Pastor Roberto.
The building where the mission was set was still in the stages of demolition and remodeling.
I wasn’t certain how they had the money to do what they were doing. Then again, the money was only for supplies. The residents of the mission provided the workforce. The men worked the demolition and remodeling while the girls worked the cafeteria and cleaned the common areas. We were all responsible for keeping our own apartments—rooms—clean.
As I stepped into the kitchen, the high rectangular windows caught my attention. From my angle, I saw only the gray sky and large snowflakes. It was late February in Chicago.
A smile came to my lips. We weren’t cold. We weren’t hungry. Patrick could take what he learned and use it for a real job, one with real money. My hand went to my stomach.
“Baby, we can make this work.” My volume was almost inaudible, yet I heard it and maybe so did our baby.
Madeline
Present day
I stood motionless as my last plea hung in the air, and Patrick turned and walked away. “Patrick,” I called one last time.
My chest ached from the sensation that my heart had been ripped from my body. I looked down at the long emerald dress, the necklace, and shoes. My long hair fell forward as I once again gave into the unbelievable pain and loss.
It wasn’t only Patrick walking away. It was also Andros’s betrayal.
How could he walk away from me and abandon me after all we’d been through, after all of these years?
Did he really think he could begin a relationship with Ruby?
The thought made the concoction bubbling within my stomach churn.
Andros didn’t have relationships.
Rage brewed under my skin.
I was eighteen when we met—when he...
I forced the memories away, concentrating on my age the night we met.
At the time, he had been nine years older than I.
Ruby was now sixteen.
That made Andros twenty-seven years older than her.
I looked to the men standing near me. “Please, I need to get to my daughter.”
Instead of answering, the man who had ushered me from the poker room held out his hand and said, “Your handbag, ma’am?”
“I-I...” Without relinquishing them, I looked down at the small purse. “I need it back.”
“That’s not up to me.”
I lifted my gaze to the tall man who had been talking with Patrick, the one with the longer hair. The dark-eyed one had left with Patrick. This man had his back turned my direction, yet I felt his power.
All of these men had it, a scary yet familiar aura, similar to that of the men within the Ivanov bratva. My gut told me I was right. This wasn’t the Russian mob, but it wasn’t legal either.
The tall dark-haired man who left with Patrick was the one who spoke to Andros, telling Andros to leave his city.
His city.
It didn’t take a genius to figure out that that man was to Chicago what Andros Ivanov was to Detroit.
“It’s up to him,” I said, lifting my chin the direction Patrick and the man disappeared. “The dark-haired one,” I clarified. “Isn’t it?”
The other one with the long hair turned my way. His green gaze zeroed in on me and then to my escort. “Mr. Sparrow told you to take her downstairs.”
Sparrow.
“Sir,” I said, hoping I could get him to acknowledge me. “I didn’t expect this—being left here.” Every eye was on me. “Andros has my daughter.” I sniffled back another sob. “I’m not sure who you are or who Mr. Sparrow is, but I need your help. I’ll do anything to get to her.”
The man’s green eyes narrowed. In his gaze I felt the familiar edge of fear that came with Andros, and yet unlike the leader of the Ivanov bratva, there was life in this man’s eyes. Within his orbs I saw a cyclone of possibilities: contemplation, calculation, and yes, power, but more. I prayed it was compassion.
Could men who lived in a world similar to Andros’s have both power and compassion?
“Do you have children?” I asked.
I prayed he did.
He didn’t respond.
“She’s sixteen,” I said, willing my voice to stay steady. “If you allow me to unlock my phone, I can show you her picture.”
“Take her downstairs,” he demanded.
The man beside me reached for my elbow. I pulled it away.
“Please, let me show you Ruby’s picture.”
The large man seemed to be considering my request.
I swallowed. “I know you heard what I said. I realize it sounds unbelievable, but if you’ll just let me show you her picture, you’ll know.”
While Ruby had my dark hair, she had Patrick’s blue eyes. It was a beautiful combination, even as an infant. While I’d tried to forget Patrick, seeing his blue gaze every day made it impossible.
The man stepped forward. Some of his dark-blond hair had fallen loose from the tie near the nape of his neck. The tendrils framed his face, the locks coming to his solid jaw. He reached out his hand. “Give me your handbag and phone and go with our man. Eventually you may need to convince us of your story, but not yet. You have someone else who deserves to see that picture first.”
Patrick.
Who were these men that they would respect Patrick’s decision?
How was Patrick involved in this?
With new tears I handed my purse forward. “The phone is inside.”
“Tell me, Ms. Miller, did you agree to distract us?” he asked. “Was that your plan or Ivanov’s?”
“I came here to play poker.”
He lifted the purse. “Will our people find a tracker on your phone, maybe sewn into your purse, or...” He eyed me up and down, “...your clothes? Is Ivanov leaving Chicago or is he waiting to see where you will lead him? Is he listening now as we speak?”
A bubble of dread formed in my throat.
Could he be listening?
My head shook. “I don’t know what he planned. He doesn’t confide in me. I came to play in the tournament. But you’re right; my phone has one of those GPS things. I don’t care if you turn it off. I just need to get to my daughter. I need to get to her before Andros does.”
He handed my purse to another man. “Do what you need to do to this. I don’t want it leaving this building. We’re not playing a fucking game of hide-and-seek. If that asshole is still in our city, we’re hunting him, not the other way around.”