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Don’t panic. You need to be calm for Elijah. Think. “We need to call 911.”
“I called André. He’s on his way.”
“Good.” Carefully, he carried his son down the stairs and laid him on the sofa. Elijah never even opened his eyes.
Val led Czar to the front door and told him to stay. The dog obeyed, sitting up straight and tall and looking more like a small bear than a dog.
“What happened?” Kaj whispered when Val returned to the sofa.
“I was watching the cameras and saw a truck pass by four times. The driver was circling the block.”
The driver. “Dewey Talley?”
“Don’t know. Burke was asleep on the sofa. I woke him up and he went outside. I went upstairs to guard Elijah.”
Because that was what he’d hired her to do. A sliver of calm worked through him. And then evaporated when a loud noise had him spinning toward the back of the house. It sounded like something—or someone—had been slammed up against the exterior wall.
“Fuck,” Kaj hissed, poised to throw himself over his son. “What the hell?”
Val was now positioned between the sofa and the front window, standing sentry over Elijah even as she aimed her gun at the back door.
Three brisk knocks broke the silence, followed by the buzzing of her cell phone. Not taking her eyes from the back door, she answered, then listened, then ended the call. “Burke’s going to open the back door, but he wants your permission before he brings our visitor inside.”
Kaj’s blood ran cold. “Visitor?”
“A teenager, says his name is Jace Gates.”
Kaj’s mouth fell open in shock. “Jace Gates? What the hell?”
“Apparently he wants to speak to you.”
“It could be a trap. Distract us, then come at Elijah.”
“It’s possible,” she allowed. “But we’re covered. As soon as I woke Burke, we called for reinforcements. One of Burke’s guys—Lucien—is only a few blocks away. He should be here any minute. And André’s on his way. Antoine is watching the camera feed. We have your house covered. Go and see what the kid wants. I’ll stay here with Elijah.”
Kaj knew that she’d keep his son safe. He also knew that he should be terrified. But all he was was furious. He stalked to the back door and threw it open.
Burke stood with a blond man wearing jeans and a jacket. Teenager, my ass. The man was at least as tall as Kaj with wide shoulders. His hands were cuffed at his back, but Kaj couldn’t see his face because he’d dropped his chin to his chest, his posture one of defeat.
Don’t trust him. He’s a Gates. They want to hurt Elijah.
But this Gates was controlled, at least for the moment. One of Burke’s hands gripped the collar of his jacket. The other held him by the forearm.
“Sorry to wake you,” Burke drawled. “But you’ve got company. I frisked him. He’s clean. May be better to have a conversation indoors, where the neighbors won’t hear.”
Kaj had considered that only a moment before a light flicked on in the next-door neighbor’s window. The woman was the worst kind of gossip. He wouldn’t put it past her to sell their story to the highest media bidder.
“I don’t want him anywhere near Elijah.”
“Agreed. We’ll keep him in the kitchen until André gets here.”
Kaj stood back so that the two could enter, then closed the door, both hands balled into fists. He wanted to hit the bastard. He wanted—
God. The kid really was young. In the light of the kitchen, Jace Gates—if that’s who he really is—had a baby face. A baby face streaked with dirt.
And tears.
“On your knees,” Burke barked, pushing on the boy’s shoulders.
