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The drinks arrive and I let Kara know what Alina says.

“She’s so cool. I hate she lost Max, but she’s got us.” Thenshe raises her head and her glass. “To Erin. To her marriage. To her little family. But… to us, because we’re the greatest damn friends ever.”

Alina cheers. “I’ll drink to that.”

The booze definitely works its magic on them and they’re so much fun that I forget quickly I can’t drink. I think those hormones of mine that are so intense, so all over the place, give me that euphoria of drinking, that early tipsy feeling.

I look around at all the people dancing and drinking. It’s early enough that it isn’t overly crowded, but it seems it’s party time in Aruba at all hours, at least in here.

To our right is a table with Demyan’s men. One watches us, the others scan the room.

I don’t even mind they’re here. They make me feel safer, and I have to admit I like being able to see them as it elevates the safety. Not that I’ll ever tell Demyan that. He’ll never let me step outside alone again.

“Let’s dance, I love this song,” Kara says, dragging us up.

I don’t think I’ve been dancing in years. But it’s easy enough to jump about and get our groove on. And the song melts into another and then another.

Finally, I need to sit. I get a lime and soda and sit, drinking it, waving my friends off as they get their gin and tonics and vodkas.

Men try and dance with them, but the girls stay together, and their would-be suitors always drift off.

“Come back and dance,” Kara says with a laugh as she shimmies up to me.

I wave her back. “Pregnant and tired. Let me get my second wind.” Then, like I somehow brought it on, I’m hit with the pregnant bladder syndrome and the need to pee. I wave Alina over. “I’m gonna go to the bathroom. You two carry on dancing.”

They salute and I go to the bathroom. It’s early enoughthere’s no line. When I’m done, I fix my hair, reapply my lipstick, and step out into the shadowed hall that leads back to the dance floor and bar.

A big and burly man bumps into me. I go to step around him when something hard pokes me in the stomach and someone else comes up behind me. I glance down and fear grabs me tight.

A gun.

It’s a gun he’s poking into my belly.

“P-please…”

“Make sound,” the man says in broken English that’s heavily accented. He doesn’t sound or look like he’s from the island. He sounds and looks like he’s pure mafia hired scum. “Make sound and you dead. I kill you and baby. Pow.”

White-hot terror streaks through me. I don’t move, only nod.

“We walk. We leave. Okay?”

I nod once more.

Demyan’s men are here, I remind myself. I just need to get to the main part of the room.

But they push open a door farther back and we’re in an alley. They drag me with them, giving me no way to escape, even though the gun’s no longer pointed at my baby.

Panic dances through me and I pray that they’ll have to take me near others, even around the front. And I pray either Kara, Alina, or Demyan’s men see me as we go past the outdoor area.

I stumble deliberately, playing clumsy, and step into a pool of light. They grab me and drag me back to the shadows, then past people in the front as they force me toward a waiting car, the gun in the small of my back.

Shit, I can’t go with them.

There are plenty of people around and I struggle as a shout goes up.

“Hey, leave her alone!” It’s Alina. “Stop!”

The man with the gun turns, caught off guard. The other one has gone to the driver’s door, so I use the distraction, smacking the hand with the gun and bringing my knee up hard, landing it in his groin.