Page 35 of Dutch

"You're right." I moved to lock the door and draw the blinds. My stomach was on cue with its sudden growling.

Dutch set the food on the counter. "I figured you'd be hungry."

"Thank you." I turned back to Dutch, struck by how comfortable and familiar we felt with each other. "Should I be worried? You brought privacy and lunch," I inquired, grabbing one of the cups.

Dutch smiled. "It depends. How do you feel about plantains and jerk chicken?" he asked.

"You remembered." I grinned.

"How could I forget the way you raided my mom's kitchen every Sunday?" He laughed with nostalgia in his voice.

"I should've visited. How is your mother doing?" I asked, feeling guilty at the mention of his mother.

Dutch's eyes held compassion. "You're always welcome. She'd love to see you."

I sipped my drink as he unpacked the food. My throat was tight with the history between us.

"Dutch, what are we doing?" I asked, feeling like a broken record.

"We're eating lunch," he joked, but there was struggle behind his eyes.

Dutch sighed. "I'm doing my damndest to keep you safe."

"I don't want your protection," I challenged, though I considered pushing him away.

"I'm not going anywhere," he informed me with a mouthful of food.

Remembering I was hungry, I sat down and enjoyed a bite of jerk chicken, allowing the sweet-spicy flavors to fill my mouth. We ate in silence for a while. I knew I needed to calm my grumpy stomach.

After we'd eaten for a while, I was ready to resume our conversation. "Tell me about the video now. No more stalling."

Dutch set his fork down. His shoulders tensed. "It's not?—"

"Don't tell me it's not important. I need to know if that's my brother," I snapped.

"We're not sure. It's not that simple," he answered with concern in his eyes. Maybe it was fear.

"I want to see the video. I'll know if it's my brother," I insisted.

Dutch wiped his hands on a napkin before picking up his phone. He hesitated, and I could tell he was at odds with his protective instincts.

"Please," I stated.

Dutch tapped the screen a few times and handed the phone to me. "Prepare yourself. It's not easy to watch."

Though I'd already seen the video, my heart pounded again because, this time, I could watch without having to look over my shoulder. I tapped the screen, and suddenly, I couldn't breathe when I saw the man sitting there. It's the shoulders that convinced me because his eyes were swollen shut, and the video was grainy like it'd been shared a thousand times.

"That's him! Oh God, that's Malakai!" Conviction hit me like a freight train.Is my brother alive?

Dutch was up and pulling me into his arms in a second. He took the phone from me. "Makari, we can't be sure?—"

I shook my head violently. "No, I'd recognize him anywhere. We need to find him. He's in trouble." Tears flooded my eyes.

I looked at Dutch through wet eyes and could tell he was conflicted. He did his best to shield me from this pain, but I was stubborn. "I'm going to save him with or without you."

Dutch rubbed his fatigued face. "Makari, the video isn't HD quality, which makes me think we shouldn't rush in blindly.That's what Jahlil wants you to do. Feel me?" Dutch asked, trying to soften the blow, but all I wanted was the truth.

"Why are you sugarcoating this?"

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