Mate Run, page 9
That was my cue. I pulled out my cell phone and dialed Jillian’s number.
On the monitor, Jillian’s phone rang. She lifted it, glanced at the screen, and accepted the call when she saw it was me. “Sir?”
“Ms. Moore, you appear to be under the mistaken impression that the infected, and you by association, are above the law. Child endangerment is a felony. One you committed without thought or consideration. If you think our legal team will protect you, you are sadly mistaken. Am I clear?”
Her “yes” echoed in the security room. Absently, I wondered if she heard it and knew what it meant.
“Now if I were you, I’d lose the smugness. Those women are a heartbeat away from attacking you, and after your actions today, I’m inclined to allow it. The child will be brought to you once he has finished his meal. Something else you didn’t consider. When this evening is over, you and I will be having a long conversation.”
“Yes, sir. I understand.”
“No, Jillian. I don’t think you do.” I disconnected the call.
On the monitor, Jillian pressed the call-end button and glanced at Cara. “Your son is being brought to you. He should be here within the half-hour.”
Cara stared at Jillian but said nothing. A few women glanced suspiciously around the room, only now realizing that they were being watched.
The woman named Ms. Montgomery walked over to her cot and sat. “How about you explain just what this is all about while we wait.”
One by one, the others sat and turned their attention to Jillian. All except Cara. She went and leaned against a far wall as though not trusting herself to get close to Jillian.
“As I said, phase one was a test to see how you handle adversity. The males to whom you showed the most compatibility are all clan leaders. They had a list of requirements their potential mates needed to meet before being considered,” Jillian said, visibly relaxing.
“I thought you said they determine compatibility by scent?” the Montgomery woman said.
“Scent is only part of it. Personality and strength are also important. Some males want a degree of physical attractiveness in their mates. It varies from male to male,” Jillian explained.
“So, one of them could respond to my scent but reject me based on how I look?” the lawyer said.
“Yes,” Jillian said.
“No,” I said at the same time, ignoring the looks from the others in the room.
“Wait! What? I thought once a match was made, the rest was set in stone?” another one said.
Jillian’s laugh grated on my nerves. The women had the same reaction, based on their expressions. “Where’d you get an idea like that? This isn’t a romance novel. There’s no such thing as fated mates. Just like relationships with the noninfected, you both have to work at it.”
Was she trying to sabotage the matings? I wondered. Turn the women against the men before they’d even met? We relied on those romantic notions to give us an edge. Pulling out my phone, I shot off another group text, informing the guys of this latest development.
“What’s phase two?” the Montgomery woman all but growled. Her eyes were narrowed in what I easily identified as fury.
“The Mate Run,” Jillian said.
The Cherise woman sucked in a sharp breath, drawing my attention to her.
“What, pray tell, is a Mate Run?” one of the women asked.
“She intends to turn us loose and let the men hunt us,” the Cherise woman said, her tone bitter.
“What happens if they catch us?” the Montgomery woman asked.
“You’re fucked, whether you want to be or not,” the Cherise woman said.
My eyes narrowed. While we don’t operate that way, I knew of clans who did. How would a noninfected woman know about a practice that some of the clans out West participated in? I made a mental note to take a closer look at her profile. There was a mystery here.
“Whoa! Hold up.” Jillian held up both hands. “I don’t know where you’re from, but that’s not how we operate. The Mate Match Agency doesn’t condone rape or coercion.”
“So what’s the point of this exercise?” the Montgomery woman said, her expression conveying her skepticism.
“No coercion...?” the lawyer echoed disbelievingly.
“You kidnapped me and took my child. How is that not coercion?” Cara snarled.
Other women muttered about kidnapping being a form of coercion.
“Momma’s mad,” Joaquin commented.
“Yeah? How can you tell?” I asked the boy.
“Her face is red. Her hands are balled like when she hits, and her mouth looks like this.” The boy flattened his mouth into a straight line.
“She hits?” I asked, not liking the sound of that.
“When her and Pa-pop practice fight,” he said.
“Huh,” I said, my tone thoughtful. I gave his mother a considering look.
“The hunt gives the female the opportunity to display her cunning, speed, and agility. In cases where there is more than one potential match, it gives the men the opportunity to prove which is the better male,” Jillian was saying.
“How likely are we to have more than one?” the Montgomery woman asked.
Jillian shrugged. “It depends on the demand at the time of your enrollment and the number of enrollees. We’re entering the winter season, so the demand has been particularly high.”
Again, Jillian didn’t fully answer the question. We didn’t do the run unless each client had at least two matches. I shot off another text. The list of things we needed to discuss with Jillian kept growing.
“Can we refuse?” one woman asked.
Jillian lifted one eyebrow in a manner that screamed arrogance. “You can, but your contract will be voided. You’ll lose your service fee.”
The women appeared taken aback. Did no one read their contracts? Mate Match wasn’t the most expensive matchmaking agency—we hadn’t wanted to scare anyone off with our prices—but it was steep enough to weed out the thrill seekers. Women who got off on the idea of sleeping with one of the infected with no intention of pursuing a real relationship. Being infected was hard enough. We didn’t need that shit on top of everything else.
If we didn’t have a match for them, the customer received a full refund. If the woman met her match and either party changed their mind during the two-week trial period, half of the service fee was returned. The latter rarely happened. Jillian’s program was damned good at making viable matches.
“What happens after the run?” the Montgomery woman asked.
“You’ll go with the victor to his home for a two-week courtship period. At the end of the trial period, either party can back out to explore other options. If you choose to remain together, both of you will be obligated to sign a marriage contract outlining the terms of the agreement,” Jillian said.
I straightened from my slouch. The two-week trial period. I’d known about it, of course, but hadn’t thought... My head whirled as ideas presented themselves. The beginnings of a plan to get Cara to come with me formed in my mind.
“Two weeks isn’t long to make a decision that will impact the rest of our lives,” the lawyer said.
“On the contrary. We have years of research and experience that proves two weeks is long enough to determine compatibility with a mate, especially when you’re living in the same home,” Jillian said.
“While sharing a bed?” one woman asked, her expression skeptical.
“Yes,” Jillian said, holding up her hand for silence when the women began muttering angrily. “Sex is not a requirement, but neither is it forbidden. If you choose to share your body in addition to the bed, that’s up to you. Our purpose is to create a pressure cooker environment of forced togetherness. You’ll eat together, sleep together, and basically be tied together at the hips for two weeks.”
I considered my plan. Cara Rodriguez wanted a haven for her son. The old man and I could offer her one, albeit, an unconventional one, even by infected standards. If, after two weeks, she decided not to stay, I could arrange for her to meet other clan leaders. With my and the old man’s recommendations, someone would take them in.
I glanced up to see Davis frowning at the kid. “Is there a problem, Davis?”
Davis met my gaze, his eyebrows knitted and forehead furrowed. “Did Ms. Moore really leave that child unprotected?”
My head tilted to the side as I considered him. “The short answer is yes. The long answer is the child was asleep in the vehicle when his mother was taken.”
“But she knew the woman had a child and didn’t question the child’s whereabouts?” Davis persisted.
“No, she did not. Nor did she seem overly concerned when the child was discovered,” I said.
A flush crept up Davis’s bulldog neck to encompass his face. His lips tightened and waves of anger and disgust rolled off him. “I have children, grandchildren. You don’t treat ‘em like that. Children are to be protected at all costs.”
“No, you don’t,” I agree, my tone approving his sentiment. My estimation of Davis increased. He might just keep his job after all.
I glanced at the kid. He’d finished eating. “You ready to go see your mom?”
He looked at the monitor and then at me. “Yes.”
“Davis, please have one of your men escort the child to his mother.” I could have done it myself, but I didn’t want to miss a moment of what was happening in that room.
“Grant, take the boy to his mother,” Davis ordered.
One of the three guards rose and walked to the door. I told Joaquin, “Go with him.”
The boy jumped from his seat and reached for his backpack.
“You can leave it here,” I told the child.
He hesitated a moment, glancing from me to his bag.
“Your mom’s waiting,” I reminded him.
Dilemma resolved, the kid dashed over to the guard. Before they could exit, I cautioned the guard, “I believe his mother has had some type of combat training. Once she has her child, she might not be as...restrained. Be mindful.”
“Yes, sir.” The guard nodded and opened the door. The two left.
When the door closed, Davis muttered, “I’m inclined to let the woman take a swing at her. It would serve Ms. Moore right and teach her a well-deserved lesson.”
“While I agree with you, I’d rather not have the lawsuit. If Jillian’s actions become public knowledge, it will be detrimental to Mate Match. The non-disclosure agreement only covers so much,” I said, my eyes on the monitor.
A heated discussion brewed in the room. The women had just been informed they wouldn’t be returning to their lives until after the two-week trial period. It was another way to test how committed the client was to being matched. Were they willing to risk losing their livelihoods and possibly their homes for a chance at love?
The sound of the guard pounding loudly on the door filled the security room, interrupting the conversation. On camera, Jillian stood and walked to the door. Cara straightened and stared as though trying to see through the reinforced door. Jillian opened the door, stepped into the hallway, and pulled the door closed behind her.
I glanced at the different monitors until I found the one that covered the hallway. Grant spoke with Jillian. There were no microphones in the hallway, so I could only guess at what was being said. I grinned at the way the kid sized her up. The boy was extremely intelligent, and judging by the expression on his face, he didn’t care much for Jillian.
Jillian glanced down at the boy, and for just a second, her expression tightened into one of distaste before she smoothed it out. She held out a hand, pasted on a fake smile, and said something to the boy.
Joaquin stared at the hand as if it was diseased and made no attempt to take it. I choked back a laugh. The kid’s onto your bullshit, Jillian, I thought.
After a few seconds of the mini standoff, Grant nudged Joaquin in the middle of his back and said something. The boy looked back at the guard and again at Jillian before finally taking her hand. Jillian pushed open the door and led the boy inside. Grant followed her inside.
Chapter Twelve
Cara
As soon as I saw my son, I gave a happy cry, surged forward, and swept him up into my arms. Laughing and crying at the same time, I pressed kisses all over his face. He squirmed, giggled, and laughed, but clung to me like a spider monkey. It hurt my heart and showed more than words could say how affected he’d been by our separation.
“You can’t run with a toddler. He’ll slow you down,” Jillian said, reminding me of her presence.
Clutching Jock even closer, I glared at Jillian. “Listen, bitch. Don’t tell me what I can’t do. I’m doing this for my son. He goes with me, or I go home.”
What I wanted to do was plant my fist in Jillian’s face and give her the beat-down she deserved. Unfortunately, I didn’t have that luxury. Nothing about my circumstances had changed. I may have Jock but I still didn’t know where we were. I didn’t know what happened to my truck and my belongings. Someone had possession of my identification, cell phone, and cards. I was just as trapped as before.
I fought to get my temper under control. I had my son. That was the most important thing. I’d figure the rest out. Once I got my son to safety, I planned to contact my legal team and sue the hell out of Mate Match. When I got done with them—Jillian in particular—no woman would ever seek them out for their matchmaking services again.
Jillian opened her mouth. By her expression, I could tell something snarky was getting ready to come out. Before she could let loose, her phone rang. She glanced at the screen and answered. “Yes, sir?” As Jillian listened, a gamut of expressions crossed her face.
Jillian glanced at me and then away. “Yes, Sir.” Pause. “Yes, sir.” A longer pause. “Yes, sir.” The last came out crisp, as though responding to a command. She swiped the screen to disconnect the call and stood for a few minutes, staring at the screen.
We stayed silent, waiting to see what happened next.
Jillian took a deep breath, tucked her phone in her pocket, and then straightened her shoulders. When she spoke again, her voice and tone were cool and professional. “Due to the unique circumstances of your situation, one of your matches has expressed a willingness to forego the hunt and proceed directly to the two-week trial. Option one: You can leave with your son, which will cancel your contract. Option two: You can take your chances and run with him. Due to the hazardous nature of the terrain, I strongly advise against selecting this option. Or, option three: You can accept the offer on the table. Your choice,” Jillian said.
I narrowed my eyes and studied her closely. Jillian’s face was a mask, but her eyes burned with fury. “My son and I can go together? He’s willing to take both of us?” I asked, needing clarity.
“Yes.” Jillian’s facade slipped for a second and I saw exactly how displeased she was that I’d been given this option. Too bad, bitch.
“Then I accept,” I said.
“We have someone waiting in the hallway to escort you to him,” Jillian said, opening the door.
I let my gaze sweep the room. “Good luck. I wish there was some way we could keep in touch. I’d like to know how things work out for the rest of you. Thanks so much for helping me get my son back.”
“My pleasure,” Pia said.
“Glad we could help. Good luck. Hope things work out for you and your son,” Monica said.
The others called out well wishes and goodbyes.
I set Jock on his feet and held tightly to his hand. It would be a long time before I felt comfortable letting him out of my sight again. Shoulders squared, I glanced down at my son just as he looked up. “Ready, Jock?”
“Ready,” he said.
“Let’s go.” Together, we walked out the door.
As we entered the hallway, I heard as Jillian said, “This whole process has taken longer than anticipated. Please go now, if you need to use the restroom. We have to be at the site in the next ten minutes—” The closing door cut off the rest of what was said.
Three guards were standing in the hallway. The one who’d entered the room with Jillian and Jock and two others standing sentry a little way down on either side of the door. Close enough to assist Jillian if necessary but not so close that they could hear what was going on inside the room.
“If you’ll come with me...?” asked the guard who exited the room with me. He started down the hall. I remained where I was.
He was about my age or maybe a little younger, judging by the way he skirted what I’m sure was the expected uniform protocol. He wore khaki cargo pants and a blue button-down top with a security logo on the pocket, the same as the others. His face was well groomed, and though his hair was shaved military short on the sides, the top was thick and long enough to style in a flip.
“Where are we?” I asked. “And what happened to my vehicle?”
At my question, he stopped and turned, realizing I wasn’t with him. The guard gestured with his hand, indicating the direction we should go. “This way, ma’am.”
I didn’t move. “Where are you taking me? You haven’t answered my questions.”
Jock tugged on my hand. “We’re going to see the man.”
I glanced down at him. “What man?”
Jock shrugged his shoulders. “I dunno. Him said he my daddy.”
“What the hell?” I exclaimed, too shocked to mind my language. “He said what?”
“I said you not, but him said I gonna be your daddy. How come you didn’t tell me I had a daddy and a father?” Jock asked, his small face frowning up at me.
“I...you...” I took a deep breath to stop myself from sputtering.
“Ma’am?” the guard said, sounding impatient.
“Wait,” I snapped. Going down into a crouch so I’d be on eye level with my son, I said to Jock, “Tell momma everything that happened.”
As he spoke, I gleaned three important pieces of information from Jock’s tale. My vehicle and belongings were here. Cujo was unconscious but otherwise okay, and this mystery man had taken care of my son.
