Chapter 7 - The Raid in the Dark
The drive to Mesquite was a terrifying blur of red lights, horn blares, and high-speed turns. Ethan drove like a man possessed, his knuckles white on the steering wheel, his jaw clenched so hard a muscle twitched in his cheek.
"Marcus is already on site," Ethan said, keeping his eyes glued to the highway as he wove through evening traffic at ninety miles an hour. "He called the police and two of our off-duty estate security guards. They won't hurt Santi, Maya. I swear to God I won't let them touch him."
"If anything happens to him, Ethan, I’ll die," I sobbed, clutching my seatbelt, my phone pressed to my ear as I repeatedly tried to call Mrs. Gomez. No answer. Just endless, agonizing ringing.
We pulled into the apartment complex ten minutes later.
The parking lot was in total chaos. The security gate lay crumpled on the pavement. The lights along the second-floor walkway were completely dark.
Marcus was already standing near the bottom of the stairwell, holding a heavy tactical flashlight, flanked by two armed security officers in dark uniforms.
"Mr. Parker! Miss Maya!" Marcus called out as we jumped out of the car. "The second floor is clear of suspects! They ran when my team pulled up!"
I didn't wait for permission. I pushed past Marcus and sprinted up the dark concrete stairs, heart hammering against my ribs like a trapped bird.
"Santi!" I screamed. "Santi!"
I reached Apartment 204. The front door had been kicked open, its wooden frame splintered around the lock.
Inside, the apartment was tossed. Lamps were knocked over, cushions ripped off the couch. Mrs. Gomez was sitting on the kitchen floor, weeping hysterically, clutching a ice pack to her head.
"Mrs. Gomez!" I gasped, dropping to my knees beside her. "Where is he?! Where is my baby?!"
"Maya... oh God, Maya," Mrs. Gomez sobbed, pointing toward the back bedroom. "Two men... they broke in... they were looking for money! They said Beto sent them! They grabbed the baby’s crib!"
I scrambled to my feet and rushed into the nursery.
The crib was overturned.
My world went black. I stumbled against the wall, sliding down to the floor, a sound of unadulterated, primal agony ripping from my throat. "NO! NO! SANTI!"
"Maya! Look!" Ethan’s voice shouted from the hallway.
I looked up through my tears.
Ethan was standing in the doorway of the master bedroom closet. In his arms, wrapped in a fluffy yellow blanket, was Santi.
He was crying softly, rubbing his tiny eyes, but he was completely unhurt.
"Mrs. Gomez hid him in the laundry hamper before they broke down the front door," Ethan whispered, his eyes shining with profound relief as he walked over and gently lowered my son into my shaking arms.
May you like
I clutched Santi to my chest, sobbing uncontrollably, kissing his cheeks, his forehead, his chubby hands, smelling his sweet baby soap scent. "My baby... my sweet baby... you’re okay... mommy’s here... mommy’s here."
Ethan dropped to his knees beside us on the floor. He wrapped his long arms around both of us, pulling Santi and me against his chest, holding us tight while the flashing red and blue lights of arriving police cruisers lit up the dark apartment walls.
