Captain sighed. “I figured as much. Millie, you want to get those bruises on record, too? We can get an ambulance here.”
Ambulance fees were also steep, so she shook her head.
“We’ll cover the cost, Amelia.”
She shook her head as her face flushed in shame at Hector’s words. He’d known. They probably all knew. It was likely written all over her, just how poor and pathetic she was.
Sully cleared his throat. “I think we’ll need to call one in for procedure’s sake, Miss Asti. So, really, you’d be doing us a favor by utilizing them.”
Bullshit, but she could play along. She let out a breath and nodded, her eyes still not meeting any of the others around her. “How long until they get here?”
“Since this is a non-emergency situation, about ten minutes.”
She nodded again. “Okay. Excuse me.” She turned away and walked down the hall to the supply closet. She ignored Piers, ignored the agent who was watching Piers with narrowed eyes, ignored the feel of eyes on her back.
Inside the closet, she closed the door and leaned back against it. She just wanted a few minutes to herself. If she could have just a few minutes to build up her defenses again, she’d be all right.
Just a few minutes.
Hector watched her walk away. The light caught something sparkling on her back; they must have missed some tiny shards of glass.
That fucker was going to pay for what he’d done to her.
“She’ll be all right.”
His eyes met Low’s. “Maybe.”
Low’s hand came to his shoulder. “She’d probably do better if you go check on her.”
“She needs a few minutes to herself.”
“How do you know?”
He knew all about pain, all about feeling embarrassed. Being disabled made you feel like you were a piece of shit most of the time. He’d definitely felt like that for a long time after he lost his legs. If he were honest with himself, he still felt that sometimes.
And during those times, he’s almost always wanted to be alone. “I just know.”
Low clapped him once on the shoulder before his hand fell away. “I like you with her. She’s cute.”
The irrational jealousy that slithered inside him made him want to punch Low in the face for saying that. His voice showed his restraint. “Low.”
Low grinned. “She’s going to be your woman, isn’t she?”
“I’m going to be her boss.”
“So?”
“So, it wouldn’t be right. It’s harassment.”
“If she doesn’t want to date you and you push it, then yes. But if you’re both game for it, there’s no reason not to try. Trust me, spending your time pretending you don’t want someone is not worth the effort.”
Low had been separated from the woman he loved—and the child he hadn’t known about—for years, so he knew of what he spoke. They’d recently reunited and were engaged, and he’d never seen Low happier.
“She needs time.”
Low nodded. “Anyone would need time after dealing with that shit-for-brains. Can you believe he’s her half-brother?”
Hector glanced over at Piers, who was still seated in a booth and scowling, while an agent stood nearby being interviewed by Sully. “No, I can’t.”
“They don’t look anything alike.”
“They don’t act anything alike, either.”
“Thank Christ for that. You wouldn’t want to hire someone who was.”
“We wouldn’t want to hire someone. You’re the one who owns it, Low.”
Low’s eyes narrowed. “Don’t pull that shit. This place is yours and you know it. You may own just a small piece of this place now but one day you’ll make enough to buy me out.”
Unease was settling in him again. Fear of failing, of destroying Low’s investment or worse—fear of destroying Low’s faith in him—was grower sharper.
He wrapped a hand around the nape of his neck and squeezed. “Low…”
Low shook his head. “Fight me on it later. We’ve got other shit to worry about now.”
Right. Focus on the task at hand. It had always worked in the army, so it might work now, too. Glancing around, he took stock of everything.
Sully had finished with the agent and was interviewing Piers.
Glass and debris on the scuffed, tarnished floors.
More glass and debris behind and around the bar.
Underneath the dirt and grime, the place was a quintessential local pub. It was worn down, but not worn out, and welcoming. Or it had been the first time he’d entered. He’d loved the place instantly. It was why he’d agreed to go into business with Low. The place just needed some love, that was all.
Cosmetically, there was a lot that needed work: the dark wood of the bar had a disappearing gloss and featured scuff marks and gashes, and booths had fading red seats with rips and tears. There was a long mirror behind the bar that’d previously only been smudged; now it also featured cracks, likely due to Piers’s recent tantrum.
Based on the reports they’d received from the bank, the guts of the pub would need work, too. Some updates to the electrical and plumbing systems, a new floor, and likely more. Since he’d be living above the pub, that area would also need renovating, including a new roof and maybe even gutters.
It was a lot. A fuck of a lot. And Low was counting on him.
He thumbed the talisman in his pocket: a small pink and white seashell. A little girl—Low’s little girl, actually—had picked it out for him and, for some reason, it gave him strength.
That little piece of beauty was why he was going to rename the place the Seashell. Maybe it wasn’t a gruff, manly bar name, but it was an honest one.
The door opened, and another officer came in, tall with mocha skin, who turned out to be Sully’s partner, Bodhi. He greeted Low with a bow and him with a handshake, then he walked over to Sully.
Amelia walked back out, holding a broom and dustpan in one hand, and a set of thick gloves in the other. She looked just like he remembered. No, that wasn’t true; she looked better than he remembered. She still had that broken-down look about her, with her shoulders bearing the weight of a tough life. Things hadn’t come easy for her, maybe they never would. Yet, something inside made him want to do everything in his power to make life better for her.
He’d never felt like that about any woman before.
Sully stepped to her. “Miss Asti? My partner’s just let me know the ambulance is here.”
Her cheeks turned pink. Why was she embarrassed?
“Go with her,” Low muttered beside him. “She’ll want someone with her.”
“No, she won’t.”
“You don’t know that.”
He raised a brow and gave Low a ‘really?’ look. “Did you want people around you when you got hurt? Did I?”
Low shook his head. “That was different, man. Getting hurt on a mission is a fuck of a lot different than this.”
His eyes went back to Amelia. She was keeping her head down and making her way back towards him and the door. She set the broom and dustpan against the wall and the gloves on a table.
Her eyes were looking everywhere but at them. “I’ll take care of the glass when I get back.”
“Amelia.”
She stopped dead, but still didn’t look.
“I’ll go with you.”
Her chest moved as she drew in a breath. Even with that baggy sweater, he could make out every curve. He’d memorized those curves the first time he’d seen her.
“I’ll be fine.”
He walked to the door and held it open for her. “Let me help.”
She let out a short breath and nodded. With her leading the way, they walked outside. The dimmer light of the pub gave way to the waning light of late afternoon, still bright but fading. He wondered if they should add a second set of doors and make a vestibule, like other traditional European pubs. Adding it would help defray heating and cooling costs, and help p
eople adjust to the differences in light. He’d ask Low what he thought about it.
Her shoulders were hunched slightly as she walked to the ambulance, her head finally lifting to speak to the paramedic and explain what she needed.
She held her arms out in front of her, palm up. “You can’t really see any of the bruises.”
He walked up next to her. “Not yet, anyway. I have no doubt they’ll be blue or purple tomorrow.”
The paramedic at Amelia’s side—a man Hector instantly disliked for no good reason—took hold of her arms and turned them this way and that. His thumbs prodded the areas in question. “Does that hurt?”
She shook her head, but said, “Only a little.”
The paramedic nodded. “We have some topical cream we can give you in case it aches worse, but the best thing to do might be to take some over-the-counter pain meds. We can give you some of those, too, if you like.”
She blushed again. “Um, yes, please.”
The paramedic turned to his partner sitting in the ambulance, a woman. “Rochelle, can you grab some for me?”
“Sure thing.” She came back with some samples of cream and small packets of pills. “This should do ya. If the bruises get too bad, stop by the hospital or even a clinic. They can help you, too.”
Hector gestured to Amelia’s back. “You should check her back, too. Someone threw a bottle and it crashed near her. She had some shards in her sweater earlier.”
Amelia shot him a glare which, for some reason, just made him grin.
“I’m fine.”
“Oh, yeah?” He brushed another hand down her back, causing her to jump a little. Little shiny dots fell to the ground. He brought his hand around to show her the sparkling pieces on his hand. They were fairly minute, basically like glitter, but they were there.
Amelia pursed her lips.
The female paramedic held out a hand. “If you come up, I can check your back for you.”
Amelia nodded and entered the ambulance. Rochelle shut the doors, leaving Hector with the male paramedic.
“Are you hurt?”
What a loaded question to ask someone disabled, though the guy probably couldn’t tell he was. “I’m fine.”
“Anyone else?”
He thought about Piers for half a second. “Maybe. They guy they’re arresting might need medical attention.”
The guy nodded and gestured to the ambulance. “She seeing anybody?”
Now Hector had a perfectly good and valid reason for hating the guy. “She’s mine.”
The guy’s eyebrows shot up at Hector’s possessive, protective tone. Hell, even he was surprised by it. He’d said the words before he’d even thought about it.
The guy held his hands up. “Sorry, man. Didn’t mean to overstep.”
Hector grunted in response and crossed his arms over his chest.
The awkward silence that followed wasn’t lost on Amelia when the doors opened and she stepped out of the ambulance.
Her eyes darted between the two of them, eventually stopping on Hector. “Everything okay?”
Hector stepped closer and took one of her hands in his. “Fine. How are you doing?”
Her wide eyes stared at their hands. She glanced at the paramedics, who weren’t really looking at them, then tried to pull away.
“I’m, uh, fine. It was just on my sweater.”
“Good.”
She stared at their hands again, then at him, then back at their hands.
“Let’s head back inside.”
She nodded and tried to pull away.
He kept hold and led the way back.
“Hector?”
She sounded confused, a little nervous, maybe even a little afraid.
Shit. He was screwing this up, too. Bad enough that the transfer of the pub’s ownership had gone completely shitty, but now he was scaring her.
“Yeah, baby?” The endearment slipped out, too. He probably shouldn’t say it, definitely shouldn’t think of her as ‘his’.
She swallowed. “What’s, um, what’s going on here?”
“What do you mean?”
She lifted their joined hands. “What’s this about?”
“Do you like me holding your hand?”
Another blush, this one the deepest he’d seen so far. “Um, I guess.”
He grinned again. At their first meeting, he’d realized that she was nervous around him because she found him attractive. She’d been the first woman since his time in the army to really be attracted to him. Oh, women had shown interest in him, but they’d been bitches who’d wanted to fuck a man missing parts of his legs, and had left him feeling ashamed and filthy afterwards. He’d been warned about girls like them before but hadn’t heeded the warning. He knew better now.
Amelia was awkward. But it was a fucking adorable kind of awkward.
She deserved him to be straightforward and honest. Something about her told him that she hadn’t had that a lot, and any man who wanted her would need to give that to her. The cautious, careful way she was around men, not to mention her asshole of a brother, all told him she needed something steady and dependable.
He hadn’t been either, not since he lost his legs. Yet, Low believed in him, wouldn’t have him running the pub if he hadn’t. If he could make the pub work, maybe he’d be able to believe in himself, too.
Low’s words also came to mind, reminding him that time was too precious a commodity to waste.
He decided to take a chance. He took a deep breath and ignored the increased pounding of his heart and the fear that was like a cat’s paw, first batting at him, then clawing ferociously.
“Amelia, I like you.”
She inhaled sharply.
His heart beat faster.
“I don’t just mean I like you as an employee. I like you as a woman. You’re beautiful.”
She frowned, her brows drawn together in confusion. Jesus, had no one told her before?
“You are.”
She tried to pull away again, but he held strong. He’d just have to convince her of it in the future. That is, he would, if she didn’t run screaming once she found out about his disability.
“Things are changing. I’ll be your boss, which means that even if you like me, too, pursuing something between us could be awkward. But I give you my word now that if we try, it will never interfere with your position here. I’ll make that promise in writing, and in front of Captain, too, if you need me to.”
Her mouth fell open. She’d know that making a promise like that in front of the prince was not a promise lightly made; it was serious business.
“He’s your friend, isn’t he?”
“He is, but he’s a prince first and foremost. I wouldn’t make a promise in front of him if I didn’t mean it.”
She shook her head. “I’m…I don’t know what to say.”
He gave their joined hands a squeeze. “I’m not going anywhere. Think about it tonight and we can talk about it later.”
“I…okay.”
Knowing he wouldn’t get more than that now, they went inside. Low gave him a smirk when he saw their joined hands but otherwise stayed silent.
The rest of the afternoon went quickly. The police took Piers away, all while he screamed threats at everyone. Just making a threat in Low’s presence should automatically deny him any chance for bail.
Another plus.
Everyone cleared out soon after that, including the police, Sully’s CO who’d dropped by, Low, and the locksmiths who’d come and gone. Amelia left, too. He’d wanted to take her home, but Low had arranged some transport for her. Hector made a mental note to make sure she got paid for today.
When he was finally alone, he stood in the middle of the pub and turned in a slow circle. He didn’t see the grimy walls, but the cleaned and shining ones that would replace them in a few months’ time. He didn’t see the chipped and scratched bar, but the glazed and refinished one that would take its place. With each turn of his body, his vision for
the place appeared before him.
Making the pub successful was his big chance to prove himself, and to prove that he could handle himself and any situation that came up again. He’d lost that when he’d lost his legs, then he’d lost years to guilt, since he and Low had been the only two members of their team to make it back alive from their last mission.
He pulled out his seashell again, rubbed the ridges, and took some deep breaths.
He needed to make this place a success. He owed it to Low, not just financially, but personally. Low had been the only one to believe in him, to keep pushing him to get better until he’d finally started on that path. Now that he was moving forward on it, he wouldn’t go back. He’d work his ass off to make the pub a success.
He wouldn’t screw this up. God help him, but he wouldn’t fucking screw this up.
Chapter Three
Millie was hurrying to the pub again. She hadn’t meant to oversleep. The truth was that she’d barely gotten any sleep at all. It was only when her alarm went off in the morning that her body had finally succumbed to slumber.
What the hell was that about? Why couldn’t her brain learn to function like a normal human’s?
With a groggy sigh, she reached for the pub doors. Logically, she knew Piers wasn’t inside, but she still opened them slowly all the same, as if she expected another bottle of vodka to come hurtling at her.
When she stepped inside, it was to find the rest of the staff scattered around, speaking in low tones. Though Millie had cleaned up the vodka bottle, she’d been told to leave the rest of the mess alone. Now she saw that the bar had been cleaned of the remaining glass and debris from yesterday, but it was otherwise the same old pub. She spotted Captain behind the bar with Hector.
God, Hector looked good. Tired, maybe—she saw tired every morning in the mirror, so she recognized it on someone else—but otherwise great. He’d been the reason for her sleepless night.
Amelia, I like you.
The words had replayed in her mind on an endless loop. Her emotions had been like a roller coaster—rising up when his words filled her heart, then crashing down when she wondered how long his ‘like’ might actually last.
Rush (Hector & Millie) (Seaside Valleria #1) Page 4
