Fight to the Finish (First to Fight #3)(16)

Zach turned, blinking sad eyes at him. “Yeah, you don’t have any in here though. Can I just have some lunch meat?”

Oh, you poor, sweet, smart boy. “I’ve got a special stash.” He’d forgotten in the moment he’d decided to keep the cookies handy in case Kara ever happened to magically drop by with Zach in tow . . . you know, in his fantasy world. He’d put them in a hidden spot so Greg or anyone else wouldn’t scarf them. He reached on top of the fridge, pulled down a small wicker basket and set it on the kitchen table. “There’s regular and double stuff.”

“Who even eats regular when you’ve got double stuff?” Grinning, Zach grabbed the package and dropped his book bag on the floor. He kicked his shoes off and they landed beside the bag. The hoodie came off next, landing somewhere in the near vicinity. “Do I have to eat them at the kitchen table?”

“Nah.” Graham grabbed a bag of carrots and hooked an arm around Zach’s neck. “Let’s go watch something bloody and violent on TV.”

He might have imagined it, but Graham thought he heard the boy sniffle a little before he let out a low, “Yeah.”


*

KARA settled back in the break room of the gym, wondering how many more extra classes she would have to take before Henry backed down. She couldn’t afford the retainer without working overtime, and she still had two more in-home private lessons to give before she was done for the day. She loved yoga as much as the next person, but even she had her limits.

Her phone buzzed in the outer pocket of her duffel bag, and she eyed it warily. If it was Tasha calling with more bad news, she didn’t want it. Maybe that was childish, but she’d rather just have it pushed aside to deal with later. When her back didn’t ache and her feet didn’t hurt from walking on the hard wooden floor all day.

It stopped, then immediately started buzzing again. With a groan, she pulled it out and saw the babysitter’s name on the screen. She answered, “Hey, Syl, how’s Zach?”

“Uh, you did say he was supposed to come today, right?”

“All week,” Kara agreed. “Why, is he telling you he shouldn’t be there?”

There was a short pause, then the babysitter answered softly, “He isn’t here.”

The breath left Kara’s lungs in one big rush that left her feeling hollowed out, empty, deflated. Her heart sank, she could actually feel it sink, down to land on top of her stomach, leaving her weak and nauseous at the same time.

Henry. Henry had come and . . . no. Not yet. He wouldn’t do this yet.

Kidnappers. Had someone come and taken her beautiful boy? Human trafficking. Drug mule. God . . .

Her phone beeped with an incoming call, and she pulled it away to see Graham’s name and face smiling at her. Not now, not now.

“Sylvia . . . you’re positive he wasn’t on the bus.”

“I was at the bus stop when it drove by. It never even stopped.”

“Did you call the school? Maybe he fell asleep on the bus, or got on the normal bus to go home instead. Maybe—”

“I called the school. No kids were on the wrong bus. I drove by your apartment really fast, to make sure he hadn’t gone home, but he wasn’t there. Or if he was, he wasn’t answering the door when I knocked. Kara, I’m so sorry. I don’t know where he is.”

Graham buzzed again, and she nearly screamed with frustration. “Syl, I’ll call you back. I’m . . . I’ll call you.” She hung up, but as she hung up, it answered the other call instead. She started to hang up when she heard Graham’s voice.

“Kara? Hello?”

Ask for help. Don’t do this alone. You need help. Biting back a moan, hand shaking, she held it to her ear. “Graham?”

God, she sounded weak. She sounded ineffective, weak, and young. None of which she really was, so she had to steel her spine and find her son.

“I’ve got Zach.”

Those three words had relief soaring through her so fast it was painful. Her heart started back again at a sluggish rate, and her lungs burned with the effort to drag in full breaths. “Oh my God. You have him.” Her voice sounded like she’d pushed the words through a tunnel of jagged glass. She paused. “Did you pick him up from school? You shouldn’t have been able to do that.”

He waited a beat before answering. “We just got in. I came home from practice and he was sitting on my front step. Taxi,” he added, answering her next question before she could ask. “Taxi and allowance money. Look, he’s safe here, we’re watching some TV, and I’ve got the rest of the night off. He said you have a lot of clients today, which was why he was going to the babysitter’s. I’ll keep him with me, and you can swing by when you’re done.”

She slid a trembling hand over her face. The adrenaline hadn’t worn off yet. “I can’t ask you to do that.”

“You didn’t. I’m offering. It’s nice to watch sports when there’s someone else to yell at the TV with.”

“You don’t have any of his food—”

“He’s munching on Oreos right now, and we’ll figure out dinner. I’ll get some recipes from your blog.” When she didn’t say anything, he said, “Kara. We’re fine. He’s fine.”

“I’m sorry I accused you.” A lone tear leaked out, a weakness she could indulge in now that her son was safe. “That was rude of me.”