We weave our way through the stands and the busy Saturday crowd, looking at everyone. Everywhere.
Someone bumps into me, and I whip around, expecting to see a man with a knife, but I stare into the eyes of the same damn kid who tried to steal my purse the day I was walking through the Quarter. The day Moses returned.
“Not today, kid. No fucking time today.”
“I’m not trying to steal anything. Some dude gave me money to bring you a note.” He offers it up, and I unlock arms with Keira to rip it out of his hand.
“Did he have a baby? Pink pants? Did you see a little girl?” she asks him as I flip the note open at the same time.
“No. Just a dude in a hat and sunglasses. He told me to come to you.”
His words fade away as I read what’s scrawled on the page.
Stall 202
I look up to ask the kid another question, but he’s gone, already melted into the crowd.
“What does it say?”
I show it to her, and her eyes light up as she reads it out loud, which is what I should have done because I need Moses to know where we’re headed.
“Go straight and then turn left. Head down the row. It’s the second to last from the end, according to the map,” Trey says in my ear.
I nod in the right direction, showing Keira where we need to go.
“Oh God. My baby’s here. I can feel it,” she whispers.
I pray she’s right. Hope floods my soul, but with each step we take toward stall 202, I worry it’s one step closer to the end for me.
I want to believe this is going to work out, but I have to prepare myself for the alternative. The blood-encrusted murder weapon Cavender tossed on the table flashes through my brain.
Please don’t let them show Moses the murder weapon if this goes south. Please don’t let him be the one to find me. And, God, why didn’t I just read that damn letter from Bernie? Will I ever get a chance?
That’s when we see her. Rory bounces in the arms of a woman behind a stall who is scanning the area, looking confused.
“There she is!” I almost forget to make the gesture, but I do it as Keira breaks into a run.
“Rory! Baby! Mommy’s right here!”
The woman’s head jerks up as Keira flies toward her, and then she shifts her body like she’s trying to protect the little girl.
I rush forward only to ram into a group of tourists who seemingly came out of nowhere. I push through them, shoving bodies out of my way as they jostle me.
And then I feel a fiery stab of pain, right in my lower back, that stops me in my tracks and takes me to my knees. Oh my God, that fucking hurts.
“Stupid puta. You don’t get off so easy.”
His face is hidden by sunglasses and a hat, just like the kid said, but I would know it was him from the hate dripping from each word spewing from his cruel mouth. The group of tourists acts like a wall, blocking us so no one can see what’s happening.
The pain is so sharp and severe, it steals my breath and I can’t even speak.
Oh my God. He stabbed me. Jesus Christ. Did he hit something vital? Because. Fuck. That. Hurts. So. Bad.
He puts an arm under my shoulder and lifts me up into . . . a wheelchair?
Moses’s voice roars in my ear, but the static drowns him out so I can’t understand a word he’s saying.
He had to have heard Reyes. He must know he has me. Already, I’m so weak that I’m slumping to the side as Reyes pushes me to the curb, rolls me right up a handicap ramp into a van, flips it up, and slams the door.
The whole thing took less than thirty seconds.
The yelling in my ear goes quiet as the earbud falls out when my head lolls to the side.
I’m bleeding out.
I know this because it’s not the first time I’ve faced death. It’s also not the first time I’ve deserved it. Sparks flash in my vision as it fades until everything goes black.
Forty-Three
Keira
“You can’t have her. He told me he’d be right back for her,” the woman behind the booth says as I reach for my girl.
“Like hell. That’s my daughter! She was kidnapped. Give her to me right now, or I swear to God, I can’t be held responsible for what happens to you next.”
I don’t know if it’s the tone of my voice or the way Rory is reaching for me, but I finally get through to the woman and she hands Rory over.
As soon as my arms lock around my baby girl, relief floods my entire system. “Oh, baby. Mama missed you. Oh my God.”
I check every inch of her first as the woman explains how she didn’t know someone had taken her, insisting that she didn’t do anything wrong. But I barely hear a word she says because I’m already turning around to tell Magnolia it’s all going to be okay.
But Magnolia’s not there.
I hear Moses yell, and my blood runs cold.
Forty-Four
Moses
“No!”
People near us whip around to find the source of the roar echoing through the French Market, but I don’t give a fuck. Mount is already halfway to Keira and the baby as the van tears away from the curb with Magnolia inside.
“Get him!” I yell, feeling helpless in my position across the street from where I’ve been keeping watch in the doorway of a souvenir shop. Jules better be in the SUV already, charging toward him, because it wasn’t supposed to fucking happen like this.
I need another vehicle. I gotta get her back. I won’t let that crazy fucker hurt Magnolia again. I heard her cry out in pain. He did something to her.
I stare at the ambulance. Fuck it. I rush to the door and whip it open before jumping in the driver’s seat. The keys are still in the ignition.
Whoever the paramedics came here to help can find another ride to the hospital, because my woman’s life is at stake.
As soon as the engine fires up, a cop runs toward me, waving his arms.
Sorry, motherfucker. I got more important shit than you to worry about.
Instead of backing up, I yank the wheel hard and floor it, not giving a single fuck that I ram the bumper of the cop car parked ahead of me.
He can arrest me when this is all over.
I dodge pedestrians and fumble around, looking for the fucking switch for the sirens so I can light this bitch up and clear the way. As I’m barreling toward Esplanade, the sirens finally wail. Traffic slows and then comes to a complete halt as I maneuver the big bitch through the smallest opening and turn the corner, desperately trying to get a visual on the van.
Where the fuck did he go? I blow through intersection after intersection, my head whipping in either direction as I search for him.
I fly toward another cross street and lay on the horn, nearly T-boning a car as I crank the wheel, turning the ambulance hard to the right to miss it.
That’s when I see it. The van. Straight ahead of me.
“Not today, motherfucker. Not today.”
“You got him?” Trey’s voice in my ear reminds me I’m wearing a comm. How the fuck could I forget that?
Oh yeah, I’m chasing after the love of my fucking life and my entire future.
“Yeah, just turned on—” I scan for a street sign. “Henriette Delille. He’s up ahead. Fuck. He’s gotta be heading for the highway.”