Dylan paced the room like a caged cat, ready to strike as soon as he was offered freedom. Kade had never seen him like this. Granted, Viktor knew him better, but still, it was odd behavior for the man.
“What happened?”
Dylan stopped pacing long enough to scowl at him. “Give me a minute. This is serious shit. I need to calm down long enough to explain it.”
That didn’t sound at all good. Had something happened to one of their clients? Was any of their team injured? These and a dozen other questions waited on the tip of his tongue, but he kept quiet. Dylan would speak when he was ready. Kade had gotten no panicked texts or voicemails, so he hoped it wasn’t as serious as he feared.
Several minutes later, Dylan finally sank into one of the office chairs, giving Kade a sense of déjà vu from earlier this afternoon. The folder in his hands was bunched and looked the worse for wear.
“I went to see my contact over at the hotel.”
Kade’s spine stiffened. He thought this was about one of their open cases, not the child. He hadn’t expected results on that for at least a few days.
“I have pictures.” He thrust the file folder at Kade, who took it grudgingly.
Carefully, Kade opened the file and stared at photos of the child, taken from several angles. Dylan must have taken them on his phone and printed them off. The tilt of the child’s head in one photo caught his attention. It reminded him so much of Nik when he was this age it felt like someone had just sucker punched him. All the breath went out of him as he studied the child.
Angel was right. This is exactly what Matthew would have looked like, right down to his mother’s eyes.
“I…I don’t…how…”
“It’s a lot, I know.” Dylan let out a slow breath. “It could be coincidence.”
“It has to be.” Kade gripped the picture of the boy staring straight at the camera, Angel’s cat eyes jumping off the page. He didn’t know what to say, to think, to feel. His gut twisted, everything inside of him urging him to get up and go look at the boy for himself. Just to assure his heart what his mind knew. This was not Matthew.
“Chucky told me the child’s name is Mateo Ramirez. His father is Juan Ramirez.”
The name tickled a memory in the back of Kade’s mind, but he shoved it aside as he stared at the photo gripped so tightly in his hand, it might disintegrate.
“I got so many good photos of the kid because they were on their way to the airport, heading back to Miami. If I’d been ten minutes later, I’d never have seen him.”
Kade’s head swiveled up to stare at Dylan, his mind going blank for a second as the shock seeped in. “Miami?”
Dylan nodded, a cold and deadly tint to his eyes. “Are you sure your son died?”
The question startled him so much, he lost his grip on the photo, and it fluttered to the desktop. Of course, he was sure Matthew died. The baby hadn’t been viable at twenty weeks. It was impossible.
“The doctor told me…”
“I don’t care what the doctor said. Did you see him? Physically hold him?”
“No,” Kade whispered, his voice rough and hoarse. “The placenta ripped, and he was stillborn. They told me babies that small almost never lived.”
“That’s true enough, but did you see him?”
Kade closed his eyes as memories of that day rushed him. God, he hadn’t thought about this in so long. Almost seven years later, and it still hurt as much as it did the day the doctor uttered the words “I’m sorry.”
“Kade.” Dylan spat his name like a drill sergeant, and it forced Kade to pull himself out of his own grief.
“What?”
“Did you see your son?”
“No. The doctor said they disposed of fetuses that small as medical waste. Hospital policy.”
“That’s a fucking lie. No hospital is going to dispose of your child before you have the chance to see him and decide what you want to do.”
“Jenkins, how would you know what is and what is not hospital policy?”
“Everyone in my family except me is in the medical field, from neurosurgeons to nurses. Trust me when I tell you they fed you a load of horseshit. Now, what hospital was he born in?”
“St. Albans in Miami.”
Kade watched as Dylan took out his phone and tapped a few things, then he put it on speaker for them to both to hear.
“St. Albans Regional Medical Center. How may I direct your call?” The girl’s voice was young and chipper.
“I need to speak with someone on staff who could help me understand the policy regarding premature births.”
“I can transfer you to OB. Someone there should be able to help you. One moment, please.”
The sound of nondescript music floated over the line while they were transferred. The next woman who spoke sounded older. “This Kathy in the birthing center. How can I help you?”
“Hi, Kathy. This is Dylan Jenkins. My wife and I are going to be in town this week. I’m concerned about her going into premature labor, but we are meeting a neonatal surgeon. If something should happen and our little girl were delivered too early, what is your policy on dealing with her afterward?”
“How many weeks along is your wife?” Kathy asked.
“Twenty weeks. If we had any other choice, we wouldn’t even be driving down there, but…”
“Yes, Mr. Jenkins, I completely understand your worry. Should your daughter be born and not survive, you and your wife would have as much time as you wanted with her, and then we’d help make you any arrangements necessary for her.”
Dylan shot an I-told-you-so look at him, and Kade’s hands fisted, the knuckles turning white. Rage vibrated in every muscle. Those lying bastards.
“This has always been your policy?” Dylan asked quietly. “I had a friend tell me some of the hospitals in Florida have the right to dispose of the bodies as medical waste.”
The outraged gasp that left the nurse told them both what they needed to know.
“No, sir. That has never been our policy, and I’d like to see someone try to do that to a child on my watch. You and your wife will be in good hands, should you need us. Let’s hope that’s not the case, though.”
“Thank you, Kathy, for all your time. You’ve definitely put my mind at ease.”
“Of course, Mr. Jenkins. Is there anything else I can help you with?”
“No, that’s all I needed.” He told her goodbye and tossed the phone on his desk. “Kade, I don’t know if he’s yours or not, but I think it’s worth looking into. That boy is the spitting image of you and Nikoli.”
“He was too small.” Kade shook his head, trying to clear the rage enough to think rationally.
“Babies that small can sometimes survive, Kincaid.” Dylan sat back, thinking. “It is possible.”
“But why?” Kade heard the small cry that left him, flinched at the pain and vulnerability in it. “Why would anyone steal a child who most likely wouldn’t have survived more than a few days, a week at best?” He’d done his research after he’d left Miami. Matthew was still just a fetus until twenty-four weeks, not even classified as a child. How could he have survived? And why would someone have taken him—lied to Kade and Angel?
“Ramirez works for Los Muertos.”
The cartel. Kade went cold inside. He killed Tomás’s brother. Maybe Tomás took the one person he loved more than anyone from him because he’d done the same to Tomás. Tomás raised his little brother, would have thought of Miguel as more of a son than a sibling. Tomás would have taken Matthew.
“Why would they take my son, give him all the medical attention he needed, and then not use him against me? Why?”
“Patience has always been their strong suit. If it is your son, then he’s their ace in the hole. The best weapon they can ever have against you.”
“But how can we know if he’s mine?” Fuck, fuck, fuck. What was he supposed to do? “You said they were going back to Miami. Have they left yet? Can we stop them?”
“Yes, they’ve left already, but even if they hadn’t, there’s nothing we could have done. It’s not like we could have snuck into the airport and snatched the kid. TSA would have detained us for hours while they escaped to Miami and then to God knows where.”
“Fuck.”
“We’re not completely screwed.” He dug into his pocket and pulled out several small plastic baggies, their contents ranging from hair to straws. “Chucky is a good friend. He let me into their room, and I collected some samples out of the sink. I even got a kid’s toothbrush they must have left behind in their rush to leave. DNA, my friend, DNA.”
DNA. The one thing that could prove if all this was coincidence or they’d stolen his son from him, letting him and Angel believe the boy was dead all these years. “What do you need from me?”
“A strand of hair and a mouth swab. I already put a call in to a lab where a friend owes me a favor. He can get you results within twenty-four hours once I get this to him.” Dylan handed over another small baggie, and Kade obligingly plucked out a strand of hair. Then he swabbed his cheek and put it into the container Dylan handed him.
“What the fuck do I tell Angel?”
Dylan scowled. “Tell her nothing until we know for sure if this is your son.”
“Matthew,” Kade muttered. “His name was Matthew.”
“My daughter’s name was Molly.” Dylan stood and repocketed all the baggies. “I’m a little worried about Angel. If Ramirez recognized her, that could be the reason he went back to Miami so fast.”
“And the cartel will know where we are,” Kade finished for him. Dammit.
“I’ve already called everyone in for a meeting in the morning. We’ll figure this out.”
“Do you know how they teach their enemies to fear them?” Kade gripped the edge of the desk, the need to overturn it strong, just to vent some of his rage. “Not knowing where we were could have kept Matthew safe all this time. If they suspect anything, they will butcher him and mail pieces to us. He’s only six years old.”
“We’ll need all the military we have on staff for this operation. We can’t pull Viktor from his assignment. Woman’s ex likes to beat his wife and kid. From what he told me last night, the man is dangerous.”
“I’ll call Conner.” Conner was Viktor’s twin and had spent more time in the military than Viktor. He was part of a special forces unit in the Marines.
“Conner’s a cold bastard. He’ll do.”
As much as Kade wanted to deny it, it was true. His brother, once the most fun-loving of them all, now had a darkness none of them could pierce. Something happened to him during his time in Afghanistan, something he couldn’t or wouldn’t talk about. It worried them, but right now, Kade needed that cold motherfucker.
If that boy was Matthew, God help anyone who got in his way.