Bona Fide Baby

Chapter 33 - The Final Encounter

Omar had a bad feeling when his phone alerted him that the security system at the condo had been breached. His stomach churned as he stepped on the gas and sped down the hill. It was hard to ignore the red alert flashing repeatedly on the screen. His woman was in danger and he was unable to protect her. He felt like a fucking failure. He knew Natalya and how her mind worked. She was cunning with a malicious streak. She often acted like she was above the law.

Anything goes. That was her motto. Faster, harder, better. That was her modus vivendi. She lived her life on the edge, always somewhere between high and sober.

He was at the bottom of the hill now, just a few more minutes away from the condo. He switched gear and pushed down harder on the gas. It didn't matter that his truck was hurtling by the usually quiet neighborhood like a scene from Fast and Furious. He trusted the ominous feeling in the pit of his gut urging him to keep going. The closer he got, fear wrapped around his throat, threatening to strangle him.

The last time he'd been this wound up about anything he'd been maybe seven-years-old. He'd just gotten a puppy and his father had accidentally driven over its legs. He remembered the swelling. The keening yaps. He'd been scared shitless then, just as he was now. Not because of Natalya, but for Xiomara and his son. He never knew love could hurt this much. The pain in his chest was violent and hot like the magma inside of a volcano, making him highly dangerous to anyone who dared to mess with his family.

The truck came to a screeching halt in front of the condo. He was out of the vehicle in a matter of seconds, but not before he grabbed his gun from the glove compartment. He palmed the familiar weight of the metal, his fingers curling around the grip for support. He had only used it once, a long time ago, when he was still in training. Not that he was planning on using it now . . . only if he absolutely had to.

He studied the neighborhood with watchful eyes. Everything seemed normal. Peaceful. The rustling of the leaves the only sound he could make out. The alarm had already been deactivated – by Natalya no less, with an old code that he had been too stupid to erase from the system. He entered as quietly as possible, his gun drawn. The living area was empty, sunlight streaming through the windows across the carpet.

A feeling of uneasiness crept down his spine. The absence of Xiomara's laughter and Esmeralda's easy chatter caused his mind to shift into overdrive, neurons firing as he stalked down the hallway toward the patio. He spotted the disarray at once. It was like a war zone. The table and the chairs were toppled over. Plates, utensils and leftover pancakes lay like pieces of shrapnel on the floor. Even the potted plants from off the ledge had been thrown over, dark soil decorating the tiles.

He swore under his breath when he saw Xiomara's phone among the aftermath of what must have been a fight. There was even a drop of blood on the floor. Rage bubbled beneath the surface and he fought back the urge to roar in anguish. The thought of Xiomara hurt was enough to turn him into a mad man.

The ground floor was clear. Esmeralda wasn't in her room, although she had been really sick that morning. He started up the stairs, his heart beating in his ears. His and Xiomara's bedroom was also unoccupied. That left only the nursery.

"Natalya," he said, "whatever fucking game you're playing I'm not interested."

He pushed the door open and just as he feared, Natalya was sitting crossed leg on the big comfy chair he'd gotten Xiomara to breastfeed his son on. Across her lap she held a tiny jumpsuit in her hands. Her eyes were shrouded with secrets and suppressed excitement.

"Now, that's too bad, baby," she said. "I was really enjoying this one. Especially this part. Seeing you again is exhilarating. And stop pointing that gun at me. We both know you're not going to shoot me."