I go hot and then cold. “Noah?”
“Shit.” Jazz looks around in a panic. “He was just here a few seconds ago.”
“Noah?” I run down the hallway, pushing men out of my way. “Noah?”
Jazz follows hot on my heels. “Noah?”
What if Dante took him? He could’ve ordered his men to take my baby. Noah has never disappeared like this. It’s my fault for having gotten distracted. I never let him out of my sight.
I skid to a halt in the kitchen. Two men guard the back door.
My tone is aggressive. Scared. “Where’s my son?”
They look at each other.
They all wear weapons under their jackets. I’ve seen the guns in their holsters. I asked Reino not to carry those guns around Noah, but he told me the Glocks were for our protection.
Ignoring those weapons and the possibility that Dante’s men may have orders to shoot me in the back of my head if I try to run, I yank open the door and almost fall through it as I trip over the threshold. I catch the door frame, barely righting myself before stopping so abruptly that Jazz crashes into my back.
Reino and two of the guys are kicking a ball around on the grass, and Noah is in the middle of their circle. I sprint over the lawn and grab Noah to me. My chest heaves as I battle to breathe. I’m not sure if the reaction is from shock or relief.
The men stop and stare at me with baffled expressions.
I address Reino, who seems to be in charge. “Don’t ever do that again, do you hear me?”
He raises his hands. “Easy, Miss Teszner. I’m not sure what you think we were doing, but you should calm down.”
“Don’t tell me how I should react.” My words are harsh. “You had no right to take Noah outside without asking me.”
“He came out by himself.” Reino observes me as if I’m insane. “I didn’t think it would be a problem. We were just playing soccer.” He waves at two recycling bins with a broom over the top where one of the men stands with his hands on his hips. “Ted found an old ball in the shed. We wanted to teach Noah how to kick a goal.”
Noah pulls on the hem of my T-shirt. “It’s okay, Mommy. We were just playing. Am I in trouble?”
I look at his face. His round little cheeks are flushed red from running. His T-shirt is wet beneath my palms, sticking to his back with perspiration. I feel like an idiot for thinking the worst. I feel like a failure for not having noticed when Noah walked out of the house. Most of all, I feel guilty that my baby, who’s not such a baby any longer, has always been deprived of playing outside because I tried to hide and protect him and failed on both accounts.
“You’re not in trouble.” I smooth his curls from his forehead. “Just don’t sneak outside without asking, okay?”
“Can I play soccer?” He jumps up and down, tugging on my hand. “Please? I’ll eat carrots tonight.”
I open my mouth to say no—let’s face it, I don’t trust any of Dante’s men—when Jazz, who must’ve followed me outside, puts a hand on my shoulder. She points at the side of the house where Dante has just rounded the corner and is making his way to us with long strides.
Noah looks in the direction Jazz is pointing. He breaks free from my hold and runs to Dante. “Dante!”
Dante catches him and swings him through the air, which invites a laugh from Noah.
Once Noah is on his feet again, he takes Dante’s hand and pulls him toward the lawn. “Look, we’re playing soccer.”
Dante smiles at Noah even as he holds my gaze with a question in his.
Noah stops at the edge of the lawn. “Do you want to see?”
Dante doesn’t take his eyes off of me. “What’s going on?”
“I couldn’t find Noah and…” I clear my throat, feeling stupid for over-reacting. “I just thought…”
Oblivious of the conversation taking place over his head, Noah runs to the ball that lies discarded on the grass. “Do you want to see how I kick a goal?”
Dante pins me with a look. “And you thought I took him.”
