I collapse on my couch, clutching my cell phone to my chest.
I think about calling him, but every time I try, I can’t bring myself to hit call.
And now Lunatic has called me three times. Each time I send him to voicemail. I know eventually I need to talk to him and ask him about everything Layla laid on me today. I just don’t know what I want to say or how I want to say it. I can’t see him hitting a woman. I know anything is possible, but he’s not that kind of man. I’ve known plenty of them. He’s never raised his voice at me. The man has the patience of a saint.
My phone rings again, and I answer without checking who the caller is.
“Pequeña flor. You’re a hard one to track down.” He knows I don’t have my tracker. Hector’s voice freezes me in place like ice in my veins.
“I’ve been busy carrying out your orders,” I lie.
“You were supposed to reach out.”
“I lost the burner and that piece of shit Tyrant told me you lied about my baby.”
“Did he now? That’s why I’m calling. I just picked up your child. I’m sending you a picture.”
My pulse beats so fast I think I’m going to be sick. The phone buzzes with a new message. I put Hector on speakerphone and look at the screen. I tap the message and wait for the image to download. There’s a little girl wearing a pretty pink dress with matching ribbons in her hair. Tears flood my cheeks. Tyrant told me I had a son. I don’t know what to believe. Hector might be lying. He could give me any kid and try to pass them off as my own, and then what? I do a test and if they aren’t mine, I could get set up and charged with kidnapping.
“Daisy. Are you there? We had a deal, no?”
I clear my throat. “I know. When do you want to meet?”
“Good girl. I’ll be in touch.” The call goes dead.
Shit. Hot tears roll down my cheeks as I run my fingers over the screen, studying the child’s face. Could she be mine? Doesshe look like me? I don’t remember what I looked like at that age.
I dry my tears and dial Hot Mama.
“He made contact.”
“What did you tell him?”
“Nothing yet. He said he’d be in touch soon.”
“Stick to the plan. I’ll handle my end. Just do your part.”
“I will, but he sent me a picture and told me he has my daughter.”
“You can’t trust anything he says.”
“I know.”
“Send me the picture. I’ll get someone to look into it.”
I forward the message and try to push it all out of my mind. But I can’t. My mind is racing and filtering through a million what-ifs. I don’t know what to do or who to believe.
I could call Gwynee, but she’ll tell me to trust my heart. But I know better than anyone that our hearts will eat lies out of loneliness.
I suck in a deep breath and call Lunatic back.
“I just got off work. What do you want for dinner? I’ll pick up something on my way over.”
“I don’t have much of an appetite. Get yourself something. I’ll snack on something I’ve got here later.”
“Is everything okay? You sound sad.”
“I’m just tired.”
