“Orlando, if this woman is having my grandchild, I need to meet her,” Chippy started, but I put an end to it before she launched into an interrogation.
“We’ll have time for this later,” I told her, then turned to Orlando. “But when things calm down, your mother and I would like to meet this woman.”
“Hey.” We all turned at the sound of Harris’s voice. He entered the room, looking like death warmed over. He’d obviously been crying. “Any news? Have they called?” he asked.
I hated to have to tell him no. “Nothing yet, but we’re pretty sure the Italians are behind it.”
He flinched, as if he’d been punched in the gut.
“Don’t worry, son. We’re going to get her back,” I said.
“How do you know it’s not the Mexicans that took my daughter and almost killed my wife?” Harris asked, his voice sounding hollow and weak.
Orlando explained, “It’s all been a setup. We got verification that the Mexicans had nothing to do with any of it. It was Sal Dash and those scumbag sons of his—all of it.”
Again, a look passed over Harris’s face that I couldn’t quite read. His daughter was missing, but there was something else on his mind too.
I asked him, “Have you talked to Dash like I asked you?”
He didn’t even look up from the floor when he answered. “No, they haven’t returned my calls.”
“Goddamn cowards!” I exploded. “They’re using my granddaughter as a shield. They must know that we’re onto them, that Alejandro and I have called a truce.”
“Thank God for that,” Orlando uttered. “Rio and Paris are alive. They’re both coming home, and so is Mariah. You got my word on that.”
“I just want my baby girl back,” Harris said as he collapsed into a chair. “I can’t lose her. I won’t. Not for anything.” Behind the sad look in his eyes, there was something else going on. His teeth were clenched, and the muscles in his neck were tense. Was I sensing anger?
Something about the way he wouldn’t look me in the eye had my radar up.
As I was trying to figure out why Harris’s energy was off, London arrived home with Junior. Harris rushed toward her.
“Where the hell have you been? You do know our daughter has been kidnapped, don’t you?”
“We were following Dash’s boy,” Junior growled in response for his sister.
We were all surprised, but Harris’s reaction was over the top. He seemed downright panicked. “Who?” He wasn’t looking to Junior for answers. He was looking directly at London. “And how did you find him to follow?”
“That prick motherfucker, Dash’s son. The one who was disrespectful when we met at the dealership,” Junior stated, answering Harris’s first question only. Those of us who had been there knew exactly who Junior meant. He and London exchanged a glance.
“You know ... ,” Orlando said, turning to Harris, “you arranged the meeting with Sal and Pop. The one where he convinced us the Mexicans were gunning for us. The Italians came to you to set it up.”
“You accusing me of something, you insecure little fuck?” Harris got in Orlando’s face, looking ready to fight. “My daughter is out there somewhere, all alone, and you want to take this time to score points? I’ve about had it with you.”
My family was self-destructing before my eyes. Dash would be laughing his ass off if he could see it.
Junior slid away from his sister, heading toward Orlando and Harris as their words got louder and hands were clenched into fists. Chippy broke down in tears and began flailing her arms for them to stop making fools of themselves. A security guard stuck his head inside the door to check on things. When he saw it was a family matter, he quickly retreated.
I was just about to raise my voice, but London beat me to it.
“Stop it! Stop it!” she shouted over the din. “It’s not Harris’s fault. It’s mine.”
Fists were lowered. Mouths at full bore suddenly fell silent. A pall fell over the room as all eyes fixed on my eldest daughter.