Instead, she quietly placed a blanket over Carter’s shoulders, made the necessary notations… and turned off the light.
Manny watched as Marisol was led to the visitor area. He had much to tell her today, for much had been put into motion to secure her release.
She approached the table; her long black hair fell past her shoulders. Even without make-up she was beautiful. He couldn’t wait until the day he would take her from here. He would arrange it beautifully, serving both of their purposes. He expected the press would have a field day.
“Hola, chica. Como estas?” he greeted her.
She smiled sweetly for him.
“Bien, gracias Manny.” She came around the chair, seating herself like a well- behaved schoolgirl.
He positioned himself away from the table, allowing some space to stretch out. He hated coming to this place. Only for Mari would he subject himself to the scrutiny and inconvenience. His wife deserved personalized attention and he was laying the groundwork for it now. It would be in his best interest if Mari believed he would meet her needs in all things—and he wasn’t getting her out of here until she understood it would be required. No one else could warrant such favor from him. It was time she recognized how he inconvenienced himself for her.
It was uncomfortably warm today. The heat in the building had been turned on, but too much. She felt her hair clinging to her neck and face. As she sat she noticed he had unbuttoned his suit. Solicitous questions crossed her mind. It was imperative she appear the dutiful wife, or at least, the grateful one. She studied him for a moment, gauging his mood. When she reached her hand across the table, he responded in kind.
“Manny? Are you well?” She innocently asked.
Her concern pleased him greatly. Perhaps she wouldn’t require as much discipline and training as he’d thought.
“Ah. Si, chica. Bien, gracias,” he responded.
She smiled. “Usted tienne noticias?”
“Yes,” he responded. “I have news. I have secured the video following your arrest; the video from the police station.”
Puzzled, she frowned. “What good will that do?”
He chuckled low. “It will do much good, I assure you. I can only say, in this instance, I’m happy you can be a stubborn woman,” he continued, lowering his voice. “Chica, in the recording, you said several times you wanted your lawyer, in fact, you said it in English and in Spanish.”
“It’s true,” she replied, nodding, “but I didn’t get one until the next day.”
“Yes,” he grinned, “and that is where the mistakes were made. You said you wanted your attorney. The police continued asking questions. You stated, several times, you did not want to talk to them. They ignored your request and still continued asking questions. Your answers were fragmented and forced, at best. The police asked you, on video, if you understood what they were saying to you. You called them names and raised your voice reiterating you did not and you didn’t want to talk to them. They read to you the reason you were being charged and asked if you understood.” He laughed. “In response, you asked them if they could understand you.”
“Manny, I remember. You don’t have to give me the details again. What does any of that have to do with getting me out?” she asked impatiently. Her hands were clasped together so tightly in front of her, her knuckles were white.
“It has everything to do with it, my sweet,” he smiled. “They have ways of getting around reading your rights to you when you are arrested—however, one of the items we will be arguing is you were denied an interpreter. Their error was in taking your statement and not notifying you, in Spanish, of your rights. They not only neglected to inform you of your rights, they also attempted to coerce a false statement, knowing nothing could be made perfectly clear to you without the aid of a translator. They did not treat you fairly.”
A satisfied grin formed on her lips. “So they made a mistake by taking me into custody at all?”
“No, chica. They could have, and did, take you in for questioning. Where the mistake was made involved passing a form to you to sign which listed your rights. The form stated you were waiving your rights. In your typical style, mi amor, you pushed the paper back at them, saying you weren’t signing anything without a lawyer. You were never read your rights nor did you sign them away. My attorneys are arguing that, after such trauma, your statement was unintended. They will also be arguing you were overwhelmed when you did not have an interpreter, and in such a frenzy, you should have had someone to explain what was happening.”
“Oh my God, Manny! You did it!” She squeezed his hand. The excitement in her voice was unmistakable.
“No, no,” he said shaking his head. “This is far from over. Nothing has been proven, yet. We’ve just come into possession of the video and my attorneys are preparing the justification to obtain your release,” he warned. “You must remain the most well- behaved girl you can be. Any disruptions could jeopardize your future.”
“I will! I’m so happy!” Her enthusiasm bubbled over her carefully guarded veneer. “Manny, you’ve made me so happy,” she exclaimed.
It was rare to see Marianna truly happy. Her sincerity was unexpected. Manny could usually tell when she was acting, but he seemed to have gotten a sincere response today.
“I cannot wait to get out of here!” she said, hugging herself. “I cannot wait to take a bath, have my hair done… wear my own clothes! Oh, Manny! I am so happy!”
He let her have her moment. What surprised him was that her being happy affected him. It was completely unanticipated. Perhaps it was her helplessness over the past few months. He might even go so far as to say he expected an expression of her appreciation once she was released. He simply was happy when she was happy—and once she was released he might enjoy a little adulation. Why not? He was spending time, money, and resources to gain her freedom. He would expect compensation from anyone else, why not Mari? He made a mental note to insure that a stipulation of her release was that she be remanded to his care. Then he could exact payback.
“I will have a problem when I leave,” she said, rousing him from his preoccupation.
“What is that?” he asked.
“My work. My career. It has been ruined. My standing with the community of advertising agencies has been usurped by the little blonde bitch!”
He grinned, saying nothing.
“Didn’t you hear me? My work and social life will have been affected by all of this drama,” she complained.
“Yes, Mari. I heard you,” he responded. He had anticipated this problem and had spoken with the attorneys about this and many other concerns about her reputation.
His tone became serious, so she didn’t press further. She stared, hoping to get an explanation, but none would be given.
“Well, chica,” he said as he stood. “My time is limited today. I have some matters requiring my attention.”
He was dismissing her?
“So your visit today was a tease? Is this how you’re going to leave me? With questions about how I will support myself?” she asked, offended.
“If that’s how you wish to see it,” he replied as he stood, buttoned his jacket, and adjusted the handkerchief in the pocket. “I will see you soon. Until then, do everything they say. Understand?”
She didn’t answer and refused to look at him.
He brought himself to his full height, squaring his shoulders. He looked down on her. “Mari?!” he asked, demanding her attention. “I expect an answer when I ask a question. Do you understand?”
“Yes,” she said through gritted teeth.
“Good,” he responded. “I will be back soon. In the meantime, I have secured a few personal favors. You don’t need to concern yourself with when they will be delivered, or by what means. When they come to you, know they are for your enjoyment.”
She glared as he walked away.
Once he left she couldn’t wait to get out of the visitors area. The quiet of her room was more conducive to strate
gizing. She heard the lock click as she went to sit on the bed. Leaning her head back, she saw mental images of revenge. There was a host of people who would pay for what she was now going through. Satisfaction filled her as she made note that no one would be spared. For now, she had to play Manny’s game.
Perhaps her anger made him think she was disposable. It could be possible underneath this indifference that he wanted a woman who would need him. It would make sense. The ego of all men was fed when a woman needed them. Though he might deny it, or not recognize it, she believed Manny had an appetite for it as well. It appeared she might have to feed his need.
A plan formed. Beginning with Manny’s next visit she would douse him with feigned appreciation, even hinting at how she’d come to rely on him, how she couldn’t make it through this without him. It would work, she was sure of it. The only discipline she must work on is controlling her temper. Crossing her arms, she warred with herself. It would be hard, but not impossible—if she kept her sights set on the goal; use Manny to her advantage.
She could let him think he’s in charge. As his wife she would feed it and encourage him to believe that. She would use him, his money, and his connections to regain control of her life. It would take time, but everything was in her favor. She had a women’s strongest tool—sex!
She hugged herself as she entertained ways to achieve her goals.
“How is she?”
Declan’s voice was barely above a whisper as he came up behind his brother.
“She’s a strong woman,” Carter replied. He reached out to stroke Aimee’s cheek, then leaned down to lightly kiss her. “Let’s talk out in the hall.”
Declan followed. He’d been made aware they were dating, but Carter’s behavior confirmed it was more than that. He also noted his brother had taken measures to assure her safety and privacy. He had someone guarding the door to her room, as well as a guard at each entrance of the hospital.
“It was crazy getting in here. The press are pushing for information,” Declan informed him.
“I know. So far, we’ve been able to keep them out of the hospital, but more arrive every day.” Carter couldn’t stop the exhaustion that crept in his voice.
Declan nodded. “It’s bad, but it could have been worse.”
Carter raised his voice. “Could have been worse? Didn’t you see how bad she looks? What that animal did to her?!”
“I don’t mean her injuries. Calm down.” Declan warned. “I’m on your side,” he explained. “I’m talking about the press. I mean the timing of the circumstances. She was on vacation so the press had her off their radar. If this had happened while she was working, you wouldn’t have been able to squelch the media frenzy. They would have gone to any lengths to get information and pictures.”
“No pictures!” he insisted.
Declan put an arm around his brother’s shoulder. “You have to take it down a level, bro. I’m here to help.” He led him over to the private waiting area. Both men took a seat. Carter looked haggard.
“Have you been home?” Declan asked.
“No. My friends have brought clean clothes for me. I’m not leaving her,” he insisted.
Declan nodded. “Well, I’m here now,” he assured. “If you want, you can go home for a break.”
Carter looked at his brother in disbelief. “Are you outta your mind? Who cares if you’re here now? I am not leaving her!” he declared.
Any questions he or Aria could have about their relationship were now laid to rest. His response made him completely transparent. His brother was in love with her.
“How long?” Declan asked.
“What?” Carter turned his head and stared, puzzled.
“How long have you been in love with Aimee?” he clarified.
“Awhile,” he said with a sigh, the edginess leaving his voice.
Neither spoke for a few minutes. Finally, Declan spoke.
“I have a proposition for you,” he said.
Carter raised an inquisitive brow.
“Let me handle the Press. I know a lot of people and Blake does as well. Let me handle it. You can concentrate on her.”
He momentarily entertained the offer. “You would do that? Get those leeches outta here?” he asked.
“I don’t know if I can get them all to leave,” Declan shrugged, “but if we spin a story we might be able to hide how extensive her injuries really are, and that she’s going to recuperate at home. I can probably fake someone who resembles her going into her house. No one knows about your relationship with her. Hell! Even I didn’t know.”
The proposal had merit. He was right; no one knew who Carter was to her. They only knew him because of his brother. Declan might be able to pull it off because he was so close to her. If he left the hospital with someone who looked like her, he could lead them right to her house—and keep them away from his house.
“You might have to stay for awhile… you know, keep up the pretense,” Carter warned his brother. “The press knows you two are friends, they’ve already mentioned it. No one is going to believe you would leave her to be by herself. They’ll dig for information.”
“Aren’t you the security expert?” Declan chuckled. “To cover my end, Aria is already with me. We’ll both stay at her house, I don’t know, maybe two, three weeks? It’ll look like Aimee’s friends are helping her out. They already know she’s supposed to be on vacation. After some of the interest dies out, we can revisit the issue. Remember, we’re not going to let them find out how bad she really is.”
Carter quietly weighed the proposition. After a few minutes, he turned to his brother. “It sounds like a good plan. Thank you.” Exhaustion was finally catching up to him. Declan could hear it in his voice.
“You know,” Declan said, “She really doesn’t have anybody close. Her parents must be gone because I’m the emergency contact person on her personnel file. We can pull this off and get the time she needs to heal.”
Carter nodded. His head dropped into his hands. He was overcome with emotion.
“Why don’t you go home and grab a shower and something other than hospital food?” Declan offered. “I won’t leave her. I promise. If anything happens, I’ll call your cell.”
“I need to get Cody from the vet. She’s probably wondering what happened to us,” he answered.
“Don’t worry about it. Aria and I can take her to Aimee’s. That way you won’t have to worry about her.”
“I’m still gonna worry about her, but yeah. Okay. Sounds good,” he resigned. “I’m going back for now,” he insisted. “I don’t want to be away from her too long. She’s been going in and out of it. I don’t want her to wake up alone.”
Declan nodded.
They walked together down the hall in silence, when Carter turned to his brother.
“Oh, and Dec?” He dropped his voice to a whisper as they were about to enter her room. “I don’t know when it happened. It just… did.”
The unspoken declaration formed a lump in Declan’s throat. He again nodded as they both made their way into Aimee’s room.
Eight weeks.
Eight weeks!
Aimee made her way cautiously throughout the house. These days it was rare for her to be alone as Carter had become her constant companion, caretaker, and confidante. He never wavered. If he didn’t stay the night, he was at the hospital every day. The rouse he, Declan, and Aria staged led the gossip rags from the hospital to her house. Other than the occasional comings and goings of grocery shopping and other errands, there hadn’t been much activity. Though the press bought it, it wasn’t exciting enough for them to stay. He had someone guarding her hospital room from the day she entered until the day he took her home to his house. The press never questioned it. They were led to believe that the person being guarded was a local politician.
He insisted she stay with him and he wouldn’t take no for an answer. Something had happened to them. It could be felt, but not explained. They knew they fit together, and to tell
the truth, before the attack they were willing to bide time leisurely to see where they would go as a couple. No longer did either of them subscribe to that train of thought. Desperate circumstances had a way of making you live life in the here and now, and living life in the present made each moment precious. She was confident allowing Carter to do what he did best on her behalf — scoping out potential danger and eliminating threats.
Knowing she had him to lean on helped her to concentrate on recovery, and when he suggested—no, told her she would be coming home with him she offered no resistance. To tell the truth, she didn’t want to be alone and she didn’t want Aria and Declan to feel obligated to stay. She counted each day with him; sixty-one days since the attack. At first she was numb, but somehow he pierced through the lonely desolation of her own thoughts. He followed her lead as she experienced quiet days of darkness, and transformed them by warm conversations of hope. He may or may not have known how his behavior helped her to heal, but his constant presence offered the security she so desperately needed. Through the process they learned how such a fragile beginning could gain strength with one element.
Love.
In the beginning it felt awkward, even embarrassing for Carter to see her. She was unaware of her appearance for the first few days. Having been committed to her bed, the doctor wouldn’t even let her use the bathroom, insisting instead she call a nurse for her needs. She thought it would be degrading for him to see her this way, but in truth she hadn’t the strength to care for her simplest needs. After a time, and competent pain medication, she was able to use the facilities. Carter always waited outside the bathroom door while she showered, even helping her to dry off. It wasn’t so much he was acting a gentleman, but a realist. He had anticipated her needs before she had to think of them. He helped monumentally by considering the little things, such as having her own underthings and pajamas brought to the hospital by Marcus or Falcon, so as not to raise suspicion. As she held onto his shoulders, she placed first one leg and then the other into her pajamas. Her lips brushed lightly against his hair as he knelt before her and she thanked him in a whisper. His suggestion proved correct; she did feel a bit more human in her own clothes.
Here/Now Page 18
