“You’re going to kidnap Robert Maxim?” Mulberry asks, his voice incredulous.
“No, he’ll be my willing captive.”
“That sounds...” Merl’s voice fades when Mulberry turns to him with murder in his gaze. Merl holds up his hands. “She is the only one who could get Robert Maxim’s help with this. And we know that Richard Chiles can’t lose Robert as his backer.”
“How about you just convince Robert to stop backing him?” Mulberry suggests, acid in his tone.
I shrug. “I’ll try.” I glance at my watch. “I’ve got to get back to James.” Mulberry makes a sound of exasperation.
“Let’s wait to make any solid plans until we speak with Declan tomorrow,” Anita suggests.
“That’s very reasonable,” Mulberry says, his voice a low growl. I look over my shoulder at him, but he doesn’t meet my gaze.
I agree and we end the meeting with plans to reconvene in the morning for my call with Declan.
Mulberry and I leave Anita and Merl and walk home in tense silence. We turn up the walk to our villa and my steps quicken. Mulberry stops and I turn to him. Anxiety to get back to my son is making me impatient. “What?” I ask.
There are low lights every ten feet on the path, but we are in a dark spot between them. The sounds of the jungle swell into the silence between us. A cool breeze rustles through the leaves and brushes over my skin. Mulberry doesn’t answer. “What?” I ask again, my voice harsher.
He moves quickly, stepping into my personal space. “If you think you’re going alone with him, taking my son and not me, then you’ve misunderstood my intentions. You’ve misunderstood me.” His words are sharp. They cut through time and space, piercing me in the chest. “Do you understand?” he asks.
Mulberry’s not touching me, but he might as well be squeezing my throat by how hard it suddenly is to respond. His ownership crashes over me—a powerful wave of realization. James is his son too. This isn’t like my time with Simon, where I was the boss. Where James was my son and Simon just the man helping. No, Mulberry is James’s father. He has as much right to him as I do.
I swallow my sudden panic. Take in a steadying breath and rephrase my thought. Mulberry has as much responsibility for James as I do. The wave passes, washing away some of the weight I’ve carried for the last year. I am not the only one responsible for James’s health and well-being. Mulberry is his father. And Mulberry is alive. “That’s fair.” I nod, a smile sneaking onto my lips.
Mulberry’s eyes narrow. He did not expect me to acquiesce so easily. But he’s not the only one who’s grown. I didn’t spend months recovering from burns like Mulberry, but having a child does a lot for personal evolution.
I nod. “I get it. And I’m sorry. I need to remember to start checking with you on decisions I make about James. I’m used to being the one in charge when it comes to him. But that’s not how I want it to be with us. He deserves to have two parents who not only love him but also make decisions together about him. Two heads are better than one.”
Mulberry blinks a few times as if he’s trying to catch up with the conversation. His chest is still puffed. He’s ready for a fight that’s not coming. I close the distance between us, linking my arms around his neck. Mulberry’s hands come to my hips. “I love you.” I smile up at him.
“I love you, too.” His voice is wary. Like maybe this is a ploy to convince him to let me do whatever the fuck I want. But it’s not. “We can figure it out. Of course you can come. I want you to.”
I reach up and brush my lips over his. He kisses me back. And when I step away, turning to keep walking back toward the villa, he follows. “I should have said you couldn’t go at all,” he grumbles.
“That would not have gone well for you,” I say with a smile. He lets out a short laugh that makes it sound like he knows that all too well.
Daniela is on the couch reading a paperback. She smiles at us.
“How did it go?” I ask.
“Easy.” She shrugs. “He didn’t wake up.” The bedroom door is closed, but I hear the click of dog nails. The door handle turns and the latch pops. Nila’s muzzle noses it open and she comes out. Her nails click across the tile as she comes to say hello, tail wagging, head low.
“You barely need me with the dogs here,” she says.
“Well, we really appreciate it,” Mulberry says.
“Yes, we do. Thank you,” I agree, rubbing Nila’s head. She looks up at me with her bright blue eyes.
Daniela stands and starts gathering up her stuff. I head for the bedroom. “I’ll see you later,” Daniela says.
I slip into the dark room, scented of James and the dogs—sweet baby shampoo and a subtle canine musk. Blue lies on my side of the bed, his head raised, watching me. Frank is doing his dead bug impression on the other side of James. My little boy sleeps between them, his arms flung wide, chest rising and falling in deep breaths.
My heart swells at the sight of his white onesie in the dark. He’s so big.
I hear the front door close and then Mulberry’s behind me. His arms wrap about my waist, his front to my back. We watch James together. “It’s his birthday soon,” I tell him. He squeezes me. “We should have a party here before we go.”
“Sounds good.” We fall silent just standing here staring at our son together. I lean my weight more fully against him. Having an equal partner in this won’t be bad. Mulberry is a good man. A hero. He will be a wonderful, protective father. Help to balance me out. This is going to be great.
A tendril of dread spirals up from my gut. That’s always what I think right before the shit hits the fan. “What is it?” Mulberry asks.
I shake my head. “I was just thinking how wonderful everything is, how comforting to have a second person who has as much responsibility for James as me…and then I remembered that thinking everything is going well is an excellent sign that it’s all about to go sideways.”
Mulberry squeezes me. “That’s true,” he admits, humor lacing his voice. “But don’t worry, we can handle it.” I nod but don’t respond. “Remember, you trust you. I’ll trust me. And we will be safe together.”
Tears suddenly prick my eyes and I turn, burying my face into his chest, into that familiar Mulberry-scented darkness. Into a place I always feel safe. A hand slides up and down my spine while he hums a comforting sound.
That night I dream of scaled monsters in trees, their teeth dripping with venom, glowing green gaze hunting me. I wake with a start, my heart pounding. The loud call of a howler monkey filters through the predawn.
James stirs, reaching out a hand for me, his eyes still closed, nuzzling close. I roll to him, letting him latch. Petting his hair, I lean forward and kiss his head, inhaling his sweet scent.
Closing my eyes, I lean into the pillow again. My heart still pounds like I just sprinted. Blue shifts, his chin landing on my ankle. He was in my dream too, his nose brushing my hip, directing me.
They were the same monsters that crept back into my memory in Santa Teresa. Memories…monsters are not real. At least not scaled ones. They are hallucinations, echoes from when I wandered the Florida Everglades in a datura-induced nightmare. Our minds can create amazing things with a little help from plants…or sleep.
It’s been years since I spent weeks out of my mind, inhabiting a nightmare. Just another thing on the list of things that didn’t break me. It dented me for sure, though. Left me with daily hallucinations of lightning that sizzled across my vision and thunder that blotted out all other sounds. They’ve faded over time…and when they do appear I recognize them as echoes. I know they are not real.
I’ve never remembered the monsters before, though, not as clearly as in the last two days. I had vague notions of inhuman terror but wasn’t sure what I was running from, what I spent those days and nights fleeing. There was a fire—one of the worst the Everglades has ever experienced. Swamps don’t normally burn. But this time they did. Monsters don’t usually exist…but sometimes they do.
Frank lets out a fart so loud that he wakes himself up. He barks loudly, flips from his dead bug position right off the bed, landing with a crash. Nila raises her head from her spot next to Blue. There are some desperate scrambling sounds and intense growls coming from the floor. Nila lays her head back down and closes her eyes with a weary sigh.
Frank pops up, one ear up, the other down. His fur is sticking straight up at the back of his head—from sleeping on it all night. And his tongue is lolling out. He looks across the bed at me with his mismatched eyes, and I can’t help but grin.