Page 87 of Her Reluctant Hero
She sat forward in her seat, her hand on the door handle, her breath caught in her chest. Was that—oh, God. She shoved the door open before Alex stopped, stumbled a bit in the gravel of the road, scuffing her new shoes but not caring as she ran to the gate and curled her fingers around it, looking through the scrolled iron bars at the dark-haired child playing on a manicured lawn. Giggles carried on the breeze from the ocean below, and a word. “Mama!”
Her heart squeezed when she realized her son hadn’t seen her. He was running toward a brunette woman who bent to scoop him up and lifted him high. She recognized Carmen. So she wasn’t in Florida after all. The air echoed with squeals of delight.
Isabella’s knees sagged and she would have dropped to the ground, but suddenly Alex was beside her, his arm around her, holding her up.
“I’m sorry, Bella. I’m sorry,” he said against her temple. “Maybe one of the other houses—”
“He called her ‘Mama’,” she choked, barely managing the words that were being strangled by tears she refused to release.
He drew back sharply. “It’s him?”
She nodded, her grip so tight on the gate that the scrolls dug into her palms. Her son, and she’d be damned if she let him call another woman “Mama” after what she’d gone through to get him. She drew away from Alex and rose onto her toes.
“Mijo,” she called through the gate, then louder. “Mijo.”
Carmen straightened and turned toward the gate. Her spine snapped straight when she saw Isabella. Hector wriggled in her arms, twisting. She saw recognition light his eyes, and he held his arms out to her with a sharp cry of “Mama”.
Isabella rattled the gate, needing to get to him, ready to climb over it, ready to take a swipe at Alex when he pushed her back from it. But then he bent over the lock and popped it open, swinging the gate wide. Joy pouring through her, Isabella raced into the yard.
She dropped to her knees and flung her arms wide, and Hector, her baby, the love of her life, threw himself against her, calling, “Mama, Mama,” over and over. She folded her arms around him, folded her body over his. She had her son and no one was going to get him away from her again. Tears blurred her vision of the boy as she pressed kisses all over his sweet face, as she breathed in the scent of him, little-boy sweat under baby shampoo. This had to be real, if she could smell him, right?
She didn’t want to let go of her son, checking him to make sure he was whole. His chubby little arms were tight around her neck, pulling her hair, and his body pressed into her cracked ribs, but she was so glad, so relieved he hadn’t forgotten her.
She looked up to see Alex, blurry through her tears, watching her. “Thank you,” she managed through the lump in her throat.
He didn’t say anything, of course, only took her elbow and lifted her up, Hector and all. He pulled her against his side, just for a minute, long enough for her to feel the sigh of relief from him.
Cradling her baby in her arms, she turned to Carmen. Tension returned in full force when she met the eyes of the woman who served Santiago. Beyond her, two men built like linebackers stepped out of the house. But Alex betrayed no alarm. He released her to approach them, leaving her alone with her son and Carmen. She battled back the resentment she felt, for the time this woman had spent with her child that she hadn’t. For just a moment, she wanted to know every detail of the past few months, everything she’d missed in her son’s life. But to indulge in that meant a delay in getting home, in getting back to normal. She didn’t want to wait for that a moment longer.
With a protective hand over the back of Hector’s head, she spoke. “Santiago is in jail. This is over. I’m taking him home.”
Carmen frowned, then nodded, her gaze focusing on Hector. “He cried for you. For months, he cried for you.”
“I’m here now. Santiago can’t hurt us anymore. You can’t hurt us anymore.”
“I didn’t do it to hurt you.”
Just to get in Santiago’s good graces. Isabella understood. “That doesn’t make it better.”
Carmen’s mouth tightened. “Do you want his things?”
Isabella looked toward the house. Things bought with Santiago’s money. “No.” She tightened her grip on Hector’s bottom, adjusting him in her arms. Funny how she’d forgotten how heavy such a slight weight could get after a few minutes. “No, I’ll take care of him from now on.”
Alex strode across the yard toward her, matter of factly. “Let’s go. They have Santiago’s lawyer’s number if they need to verify anything.” But his body language told her they should go before more questions were raised.
She buckled Hector into the built-in car seat in the back of the SUV and sat beside him, unwilling to let him out of her sight for the drive back to the airport. She wanted to talk to him, have him tell her about the time she’d lost. More than once she caught Alex watching them in the rearview mirror, but his expression was odd, a mixture of pride and longing, she thought. Longing for what, though?
The flight to Florida was long, but she didn’t care, only measured her baby’s breathing, smoothed his dark hair, felt his heartbeat. She’d never felt a joy, a relief, this strong since the day he was born. Like then, this moment was worth everything she’d endured to get here.
Her cheek still pressed against Hector’s head, she turned to smile at Alex, who almost—almost—smiled in return.
Isabella watched Alex through her lashes as they sat in a booth at the cozy little diner down the street from the Miami airport. They’d been detained at the airport the better part of the night as she’d tried to prove Hector was her son. She’d told the authorities that his birth certificate had been lost in a fire, but they hadn’t been inclined to believe her. Her battered face likely did nothing to advance her cause. It wasn’t until Alex called in a few favors from his friends at the DEA that they released her. Agent Michaels faxed over documentation that had been on the thumb drive, a scanned birth certificate and several doctor reports, including a DNA test Isabella didn’t even know Santiago had ordered. He must have doubted the child was his.
But now she thanked him for it, because there was no question about her child’s parentage. She could take him home without worrying someone would take him away again.
Alex to the rescue again.
He hadn’t flinched when she ordered the biggest breakfast on the menu. He even prodded Hector into ordering milk and orange juice, though that much liquid in such a small bladder could only cause delays. She hated that she felt nervous, waiting for Hector’s incessant chatter to get on Alex’s nerves. Alex wasn’t used to children, after all, and Hector had slept well and was now wide-awake.
