“When was the last time you saw your father?” Detective Tanan asked.
“When I was around eight years old.”
“And you think it was him? You recognized him?”
“Not by face, but his voice was familiar. One of the attackers mentioned who he was. It’s all in my report.” She really didn’t want to rehash everything right then. She had no energy for it.
Hector’s mouth went tight. “Check with Officer Sullivan. It’s also possible this is related to Amelia’s shit-ass half-brother, Piers. Amelia’s getting a restraining order against him. It’s possible Piers broke in here while her father and others attacked her at the fair.”
The detectives glanced at each other, and Detective Mace stepped back to make a call.
Detective Tanan pointed to the wall with his writing pad. “The message on the wall? Does that have any specific meaning to you?”
She shook her head. “Piers has called me that before, but otherwise, no.”
The detectives looked at each other, then Tanan turned his questions to Hector. “You said you own a pub?”
“The Seashell.”
“Did you see anyone when you arrived here?”
Hector shook his head. “No one was in the hall at that time. I didn’t hear anything inside the apartment, either, but the front gate was open. It’s usually kept locked but wasn’t today.”
Tanan jotted a few notes then gave him an assessing look. “You went to Vernee yesterday?”
“Technically this morning. We closed at three and I headed out around four.”
“I’ll need the names of those who can confirm you were at the Seashell until it closed.”
Hector pursed his lips, then nodded.
“You drove your car to Vernee?”
“No, borrowed the prince’s car. Mine’s in the shop.”
The detective paused in writing, then continued. “We’ll need to see it and confirm via its GPS, if it has any.”
“You can talk to the prince about that yourself, as it was returned to him. We both came back in Amelia’s car. The prince will probably tell you, however, that you need a warrant first.”
They stared each other down, until Millie couldn’t take it anymore. “Look, can we hurry things along? I’m really not doing so well, and I’d like to take some medication and go to sleep.” And maybe not wake up for the next five days.
The detective broke eye contact first. “Of course. I apologize. However, you won’t be able to stay here. We’ve got a crime scene unit coming to dust for prints, not to mention…” he added, pointing at the lipstick-covered wall.
Hector’s arm tensed around her. “You’ve got a crime scene unit coming? Is that standard in a case like this?”
The detective closed his notepad and slipped it and his pen into his pocket. “For a ‘standard’ burglary? No. However, this is far from standard. We’ll talk to the detectives in Vernee, but initial thoughts are—as you noted Miss Asti—that the two incidents are connected.”
She shivered thinking of her attack as an ‘incident’. Incident was too tame a word for what she’d been through. Hector ran a hand down her back.
“Not only that,” Tanan continued. “We believe these men are also connected to a recent string of robberies across Masillia, but mostly centered in this area.”
“What?” Now Piers and her father were stealing from people? Shit.
“You’re being very forthcoming,” Hector observed.
The detective gave him a small smile. “If it turns out you do know the prince, then he—and you by association—will probably find out anyway. If you don’t actually know the prince and this meet is your idea of a joke—”
“It isn’t,” she and Hector said together.
“Hector wouldn’t do that. He knows the prince, who also comes by the Seashell often,” she added. “Every tourist guidebook for Masillia has that tidbit in there. You can check.”
“Even so,” Tanan continued. “If you don’t know him, then perhaps you’ll at least keep an eye out, and let us know if you see or hear anything.” He handed them both a business card. “Don’t hesitate to call. We’ll probably follow up in the next day or two with more questions, or more information. Where will you be staying?”
“With me,” Hector answered for her again.
The detective flipped his eyes to her.
“With him, I guess.” She didn’t really have any other options, anyway.
“We’ll talk to the neighbors, see if anyone heard or saw anything. We’ll give you an update tomorrow.”
A knock came at the door and Persy entered, her mouth falling open at the sight of Millie. Persy was out of breath, as if she’d rushed there, her long hair falling loose from the knot on her head. “My God! Millie, are you all right?”
She rushed over and hugged her, dislodging her from Hector. The hug was a little too exuberant. “Ow, easy, Persy.”
“Oh! I’m so sorry. Did I make it worse?”
“No, my ribs are bruised, that’s all.”
Millie lifted her eyes to Hector’s as his arm came back around her, slanting across her back and resting on her hip. He tugged her against him, and little bubbles of excitement floated through her despite the pain.
“Two ribs are bruised, babe,” he clarified. “And one of them is cracked.”
She looked to Persy, then back to him. “Same difference.”
“It’s not.”
“It is.”
She huffed in exasperation. “Don’t argue with me in front of everyone.”
His grin came back. “Okay. I’ll argue with you when we’re alone tonight.”
She sucked in a breath, then winced at the pain in her ribs.
His eyes narrowed on her. “Amelia.”
“I’m fine.” She turned to Persy. “How much will I owe to get this fixed up?”
“I’ll get some estimates and let you know.” Persy’s face looked wretched. “I’m sorry, Millie, but I don’t know if the owners will let you stay. This is the second break-in you’ve had, and the owners are just not that accommodating.”
Shit! “Can they do that?”
“There’s a clause in the lease about it. If it was up to me, you know I’d do right by you. As it is, I don’t even know if they’ll let me keep my job at this point.”
“Let me know what the cost is. I’ll cover it.”
“Hector, you helped last time, too.”
He ignored her, pulled out a business card and gave it to the detective. “In case you need to reach us. My cell’s on the back. Do you need Amelia for anything else?”
The detective shook his head. “Not at this time.”
Hector turned to Persy. “You?”
“No, but I’ll give you a call. You want me to price out someone to help clean up the place, too?”
Hector said ‘Yes’ the same time Millie said ‘No’.
“No,” she reiterated.
“Babe—”
“I need to clean this up myself, all right? I need to.” She didn’t mention she’d do it when she was alone, so that she could cry in peace as she cleaned up the most recent wreck of her life.
She turned back to the detective. “When do I get my place back?”
“Another few days, at least.”
She turned to Persy. “You’ll get the window boarded up?”
“Actually, I should be able to get the whole thing replaced today, if the police say it’s okay. Otherwise, we’ll need to board it up.”
She nodded. “Whatever works. It’s not as if there’s anything left worth stealing. Can we go? I really want to go.”
Hector’s eyes went melty again. “Yeah, baby, let’s go.”
“Do you have my meds?”
“I’ve got them in my pocket.”
She gave everyone a quick goodbye and walked out. She’d almost made it to the stairs when Hector suddenly scooped her up again.
Her voice had progressed to exhausted whining, but it couldn’t be h
elped. “Hector, put me down.”
His eyes locked with hers, and he stopped on the steps. “Babe, here’s what’s going to happen. I’m going to take care of you.”
“But—”
“And you’re going to let me.”
“I’m—”
“And that’s the end of this conversation.”
She kicked her foot, as if she were stomping it. “Hector.”
“You haven’t had someone take care of you before, baby.”
She shut her mouth.
“That bothers me. You deserve that. So, you’re going to need to get used to someone—that someone being me—taking care of you. You want to argue about it? Go ahead. You’re fucking cute when you’re angry, and I like sparring with you.”
She didn’t want to be cute when she was angry, she wanted to be taken seriously. Though, since she’d never been considered cute before Hector, she decided maybe she didn’t mind.
“You are not alone anymore, Amelia. Accept it.”
She felt her heart starting to race as the panic rushed up sharp and fast inside her. “This is moving too fast for me again.”
He moved down the rest of the stairs. “Life moves fast. It moves so fast that just a couple days ago, I gave you a deadline to come to terms with us, and since then you’ve been beat to shit. I’ve been following your lead for taking things slow, babe. I didn’t mind that because it’s your right to take things slow. But if I had just talked with you sooner, then maybe you wouldn’t have been alone at the fair because I would’ve been there as your man to back you up.”
“What happened to me isn’t your fault.”
“If I was with you yesterday, if you’d had me at your back, no way would those motherfuckers have made a move on you. No one messes with you while I’m around. At least, not anymore.”
Wow. “Hector.”
“I like your soft voice, baby, and I want to know what I did to earn it. You’ll tell me later.”
They reached the ground floor—the rain had finally stopped—and he slowly put her down, his hands resting lightly at her waist, hers against his chest. She liked the feel of his chest.
He gave her hips a slight squeeze. “You’re right, I am moving things fast. I know what I want, and I’m not waiting for it anymore. I want you.”
Her heart stuttered, then started beating frantically. He wanted her. No one had ever wanted her before. She’d heard him say that before but, until today, until this moment, until she’d seen everything he’d done for her, she hadn’t really believed his claims. But today, after everything that had happened, she was beginning to believe it, to feel that this relationship was real.
But…
“What happens when you stop wanting me?”
“Not gonna happen.”
Here was the panic again, just a different, more devastating kind. “But it could.”
“Amelia.”
“It could. You don’t know everything about me. You’ll change your mind.” She looked away at the ground, but he tilted her head back.
“Do you like me, Amelia?”
She licked her lips, frowning at the taste of the medicated lip balm she wore to heal her lips.
“Do you?”
Say it. Say it! “Yes.”
He grinned. “I like you. You like me. I’d say that was a good place to start.”
He liked her.
Hector Perez liked her! Still!
Even beat up and facing another drama, he still liked her.
And she’d admitted twice that day that she liked him.
Holy shit.
Even while Hector was thrilled Amelia finally admitted she liked him, another part of him was still seething with the anger and frustration of what had happened to her.
He brushed some wet hair away from her face, putting her stitched and bruised cheek on display. He fought back the scream of rage demanding release. He had to let some of this emotion out, but not in front of her.
“I’m going to pull the car around the side. It’s closer so you won’t have far to walk. All right?”
She nodded. “I’ll wait here.”
He walked away. When he was finally out of her line of sight, he punched a tree.
Then he punched it again.
And again.
He leaned forward and rested his head and hands against the bark. The skin along his knuckles was scraped and red, but not bleeding.
He had to calm down. She didn’t need to see his fury right now. Her attackers did, but she didn’t. She needed gentleness and caring and looking after. She’d never had anyone to lean on or help her. He had to show her he wasn’t like the people from her past who’d shown her so little kindness.
It troubled him that she’d never had that. Mostly because it reminded him of his own past, and the twisting paths of life that had veered him away from his family. Those same paths, however, had led him to Valleria, to the army and his brother, Low. They’d led him here, to these moments with Amelia.
Amelia…
Maybe he’d been too pushy with her but, given the progress they’d made in the hospital and again just now, he wasn’t going to give up that hard-won ground. He wanted her too much.
More importantly, he needed her.
He’d never been attracted to any one type of woman before. He liked curves, but that was the only constant. With Amelia, it was more. She’d pulled at him from the start, from the first moment he’d seen her, and when he’d seen Piers treating her like shit moments after they’d met. Now, that pull was stronger, deeper.
Now was his chance to show her, to prove to her they could be good together.
He would not fail.
He pushed back from the tree and headed over to her car. As he drove around the building, he called the pub and spoke to Liz, giving her a rundown of what was going on, and that they needed to find someone to cover for both him and Millie. He promised to give her an update later and hung up.
He parked as close as he could get to the side exit; more police had arrived. He walked towards the steps, clamping down his anger at the sight of her.
Her soft face was marred with patches of purple, blue, and black. One eye was so swollen, he wasn’t sure how she saw through it, much less through her glasses. Not to mention her ribs, head, and arm were probably throbbing. He wondered about the injuries he couldn’t see.
What kind of fucking monsters would hurt her? Had her father really been a part of all this?
He reached for her free hand and took it, leading her back to the car. She stared at their joined hands, her brows wrinkled in thought.
“Fucking cute,” he muttered.
Her head swung up to his. “What?”
“I said you’re cute.”
A shadow crossed her face, but she didn’t say anything. Somebody—her family, most likely—had put that shadow there, and he was going to kick their ass.
“You are cute, whether or not you believe it.” When she put her head down, he decided to take things into his own hands.
He swept her into his arms again.
“Hector!” she hissed. “Stop. Put me down.”
“When we get to the car.”
“Everyone’s looking.”
He looked around. A couple cops glanced at them for a moment, but that was it. “No one’s looking, babe.”
“They are.” She buried her head against his neck. Since he didn’t mind that at all, he didn’t say anything else until they arrived at the car a few moments later.
He kissed her neck. Was it too soon after her trauma to be touching her, holding her, kissing her? Maybe, though she hadn’t been shying away from his touch and she didn’t seem to mind the kisses. If her lips weren’t bruised, he’d have kissed her harder.
Why the fuck had he waited so long with her? She may have needed them to take things slow physically, but he should have pushed sooner for an answer on whether or not they were moving towards a relationship. He could’ve been protecting her for months now
…he didn’t think he’d ever forgive himself for what happened to her.
He kissed her neck again. “We’re here, baby.” He let her down and opened the door for her. She slowly sat inside, wincing a little.
Yup, he wanted to hurt those motherfuckers, but good.
He slid into the driver’s seat and buckled up, then noticed she hadn’t moved. “You need to buckle up, babe.”
“Hmm?”
He reached over and rubbed his thumb over her cheek. “Buckle up, babe.”
She looked down, then blinked. Fuck. She was going out of it. He reached over, and she plastered herself against the seat. He pulled the buckle over and locked it. “You want to take your meds now?”
She nodded woodenly.
“Okay, baby. We don’t have any water. You good to swallow it dry? We can get some at my place if you can wait.”
“Dry. I’d like it now.”
He pulled the meds from his pocket, read the bottle, popped out one pill, and handed it to her. “Just relax, baby. We’ll be there in a few minutes.”
She nodded again and swallowed the tablet, then propped her head against the headrest.
He drove away thinking about the night ahead. She’d get the bed, and he’d take the couch. He’d also have to sleep in clothes tonight.
Clothes. She didn’t have anything but what she was wearing. Not to mention whatever toiletries she might need. Liz and Beth were on shift; he’d pop down to the bar and ask one of them to run out and grab some things.
He glanced over and saw her head rolling around her shoulders; she was asleep.
Just in case she woke up—and because he needed it—he reached over and held her hand. She deserved to know that someone cared for her in her sleep.
When they arrived at the pub, he parked the car in the alley behind it. Amelia was out, as in out, so he carried her very slowly up the steps to his apartment. He’d never tell her—because he loved holding her in his arms, loved feeling her weight against him—but lifting her, lifting anything really, did put a slight strain on his prosthetics. That was normal, especially as he was wearing two of them.
He put her down, leaning her against him only so he could open the front door, then carried her inside and shut the door with his foot. He took her into the bedroom, whipped back the covers, and gently laid her down. After taking off her shoes and glasses, he bundled her into bed. Her skin was sallow, even under the bruises and olive-hued skin. He’d have to make her some of his mother’s soup; it always helped him when he was sick.
Rush (Hector & Millie) (Seaside Valleria #1) Page 19
