But my certainty fades with every passing second as the cries turn to whimpers.
Oh my God.
No.
I beg the heavens for it not to be so.
As my mind protests what my heart already fears most, the man on the other end of the call laughs, and it’s the most evil sound I’ve ever heard.
“I have something that your powerful friends will want back very badly. And I have no problem at all sending a piece of her for every hour my instructions are not followed.”
“You son of a bitch!” I explode, unable to stay silent for another moment while he talks about maiming Aurora, because there’s no other baby he could have possibly taken that would get him what he wants.
“Ah, there she is.Puta. I’m going to fillet you like I did your friend. But I will make it go much slower for you. Let you bleed out like you did my brother.”
“You’re never getting your fucking hands on her,” Moses bites out, and I’m certain he believes what he’s saying.
But he’s wrong.
A life for a life.
Not mine for his brother’s.
Mine for Rory’s.
Because that sweet baby girl is innocent. She hasn’t even had a chance to live, and I won’t let some madman with a vendetta stain one moment of her life longer than it takes to get her back to her parents.
“You really think the infamous king of New Orleans will pick a whore over his own flesh and blood? Say good-bye to your woman, because he will deliver her to me in a second to get his child back. You know it, and I know it. I believe this is what you callcheckmate.”
My throat is rough and raw, but somehow I manage to get the words out. “Where and when?” My voice breaks, and I’m not proud of it, but who walks to the gallows with a spring in their step?
God, not even the gallows. That would be a mercy compared to what this man will do to me.
Moses reaches out to grip my arm and shakes me with a look of rage on his face. I can read his thoughts in his eyes.
Over my dead body. You are not making this trade.
“Ah ... so whores have honor too? That is a new lesson for me. I thought you were just a faithless bitch, but it doesn’t make a difference. Bring yourself, and I won’t”—he’s almost singing his vile words over the phone line—“chop off her precious, perfect pinky. They’re so little. But she doesn’t need ten fingers. She’ll only scream for a few hours when it’s gone.”
“Where and when?” This time I put force behind my voice, even as Moses looks like he wants to strangle me himself.
“The far end of the French Market, near Esplanade, at noon. You have forty minutes. Bring her mother. Walk the stalls. She finds the baby, and I find you. If you try anything, I’ll kill all three of you before the men in your life have a chance to stop me. Do not doubt that I will. I have no problem dealing out death.”
“You sick fucking bastard.” Moses’s words are forced out through clenched teeth.
“Oh, I feel your rage, but it is out of your control now. Mr. Mount will hand the whore over to me, gift wrapped with a bow, and we all know it.” He pauses, almost as if to give his words more effect. “Besides, would you really sacrifice a child? Because as you have seen, my blade is sharp and always ready. I’m not afraid to use it on the little girl. I don’t like children anyway.”
“Don’t you fucking hurt her. I’ll come, but don’t you fucking dare hurt a hair on that girl’s head. Do whatever you want to me, but she’s innocent.”
He tsk-tsks into the speaker. “She’s a whore in the making. Don’t be late. I enjoy spilling blood, and patience is not my virtue.”
The call ends, and Moses and I stare at each other in the cabin of the car.
The driver speaks first. “Jesus fucking Christ. I’m calling Mount now. He needs to know. Good fucking God, this city is going to burn if he doesn’t get his kid back.Jesus fucking Christ.”
Moses pulls out his own phone. “I’ve got it. You drive. We have no fucking time to waste. Get us back to Mount’s, and then we’ll go find the baby.”
Thirty-Six