by Kali Argent
“I have to go.” His entire demeanor had changed from only seconds before, and a completely different person stared back at her from the doorway.
“I’ll come with you.”
“No.”
His harsh tone gave her pause, but she recovered quickly, pulled her jacket on, and zipped it halfway. “Now who’s stubborn?” The phone call had clearly shaken him, and Cecily had a bad feeling his emotions would drive him to do something stupid. “I’m coming with you, Rafe.”
He stared back as though he’d never seen her before, but he relented—however grudgingly. “Fine.” Then he left without another word.
CHAPTER SIX
By the time Cecily had pulled on her tennis shoes, grabbed some cash from her emergency stash, and jogged down the stairs, Rafe had already hailed a cab. When she approached, he grabbed her elbow and shoved her into the back of the vehicle before falling into the seat beside her. Then he rattled off an address on Washington Street and ordered the driver to step on it.
Sitting rigidly, he stared straight ahead and didn’t utter a word as the cab driver wove in and out of traffic at speeds far exceeding the limit. Once they’d cleared downtown, though, Cecily couldn’t stand the silence any longer.
“Who’s Angie?”
“My niece.”
“How old is she?”
“Nine. Maria is five, and Sophie just turned two,” he added.
Moving closer, Cecily placed her fingers on his forearm and waited for him to look at her. “Rafe, what’s going on? Talk to me.”
He didn’t answer right away, but Cecily waited, letting him work through the struggle without any pressure. “Annette is a lot like Melissa in some ways. She rushes in without stopping to think of the consequences.”
“The girls, your nieces, they’re her kids?”
Rafe nodded once. “The girls’ dad, Casey, he’s a drunk and a mean son of a bitch. The last time he beat the hell out of Annette, he put her in the hospital for a week.” He swallowed hard, and his hands curled into fists on his knees. “I guess that was finally the wakeup call she needed. She pressed charges and filed for divorce.”
“What happened to him?” It only made her worry that much more about her own sister, but this wasn’t about her. “Did he go to jail?”
“Yeah, they gave him eighteen months in county.”
“That’s it?” This asshole had put a woman, his wife and the mother of his children, in the hospital, and he’d gotten barely more than a slap on the wrist. The injustice of it all sickened her. “So, he’s out now, isn’t he? Is that what this is about?”
The muscles in his jaw jumped, and she could hear the scrape of his teeth as they grinded together. “Yes.”
“That’s twenty even,” the drive called over his shoulder as he came to a stop in front of a rundown duplex.
“Shit.”
Rafe fumbled for his wallet, but Cecily squeezed his shoulder and pushed him toward the door. “Go. I’ll take care of this.”
Judging by the level of noise coming from inside the house, Cecily figured someone had already called the police. She didn’t hear any sirens, though, and Rafe obviously hadn’t been in his right mind to think about placing the call.
“Here.” She handed over a twenty and a ten to the driver. “Do you have a phone?”
The driver grabbed his cell from the dash. “You want me to call the cops?”
“That’s the rumor.” Opening the door, Cecily slid out of the cab and steeled herself for what she might find inside the house.
“I’ll take care of it.” The driver glanced up at her through the open window and shook his head. “Go on, hon. I’ll make sure the police get here.”
The brown paint on the outside of the duplex had faded over the years, and someone had covered the windows on one side with plywood. Cracks ran through the concrete steps like veins and splintered through the weathered wood of the porch.
The screen door creaked on its hinges when Cecily pulled it open, but she barely heard it over the sound of breaking glass and shouted curses. Inside, a woman she guessed to be Annette huddled on the floor with her back pressed to the wall while her whole frame shook with sobs.
“Annette?” Cecily swallowed back the bile that rose in her esophagus when Annette lifted her head to reveal a swollen black eye and a busted lip. “Annette, I’m Cecily.” Crouching down in front of the petite woman, Cecily took her hand and patted the top of it. “The police are on the way.”
“Rafe,” Annette whispered. “Casey is going to kill him.”
“Rafe can take care of himself, but we have to get you out of here, okay? Do you have somewhere you can go? Maybe a neighbor’s house?”
Annette thought about it for a moment and shook her head. “We just moved in a few months ago. I don’t really know anyone.”
It didn’t take a genius to do the math. Annette and her children had moved in right around the time Rafe had started picking up extra shifts at the club. “That’s okay, Annette. We just need to get you out of the house. I want you to go outside and wait in the front yard for the police to get here. Can you do that?”
“My girls.” She sniffled and swiped at the tear tracks on her cheeks. “I can’t leave my girls.”
“I’ll get your girls, but I need you to go, okay?”
It took a bit more persuasion, but Cecily managed to get Annette outside, just as all hell broke loose in the adjacent room. Rafe shouted something in Italian she didn’t understand, but she doubted it was, “let’s be friends.” Casey, in turn, responded by launching a scarred, wooden end table at Rafe’s head.
As terrifying as the fight sounded, Rafe did indeed seem to have things under control. So Cecily turned her attention to the youngest members of the house, following the sounds of the baby’s cries down the hallway to the bathroom door.
“Angie? Angie, I’m a friend of Rafe’s. My name is Cecily.” She pressed her ear to the door and closed her eyes. “Angie, I’m here to help you, but I need you to open the door.”
“No,” a tiny voice answered, quiet but firm. “Uncle Rafe said don’t open the door until he said so.”
“I know, and you did a good job, Angie. Your mom’s waiting outside for you, though.” Cecily didn’t want children of her own, but that didn’t mean she disliked the rugrats. She’d just be much happier playing the role of the fun aunt. “I’m not going to let anything happen to you, I promise.”
A heartbeat later, the lock clicked and the door creaked open to reveal a set of big, brown eyes. “I’m Angie.”
“Hi, Angie, I’m Cecily.” Pushing the door open a little wider, she beckoned all three girls to her. “Let’s go find your mom, yeah?” Lifting the baby into her arms, she ushered Angie and Maria ahead of her. “Cover your ears and go straight outside.”
Both girls bobbed their heads and clapped their hands over their ears. Following them out, Cecily tucked the baby’s head under her chin and held her tight as she hurried them all through the front door. Annette met them at the bottom of the steps, still crying but obviously relieved to have her children with her again.
Sirens wailed in the distance, the sound faint but growing louder. As much as it frustrated her to admit, Cecily could do nothing to help Rafe, not directly. She could, however, keep his sister and nieces safe until someone better trained arrived.
* * * *
Broken furniture, shattered glass, and crumbling drywall littered the living room by the time the cops arrived to take Casey away in handcuffs. Blood seeped from the cut over Rafe’s eyebrow where Casey had hit him with a porcelain angel, but he waved away the medics on scene. Instead, he insisted the EMTs attended to his sister’s injuries.
Officers milled around the house, taking pictures and scribbling in their notebooks. They took Rafe’s statement, of course, spoke with Cecily for a few minutes, and had Annette go through the motions of filing a formal complaint against her ex-husband.
None of it would do any good, though. Casey m
ight end up in county—again—but he’d be out in a year, two years tops. When that happened, he’d come looking for his family, and the next time, Rafe might not be there to intervene.
“Isn’t there anything else we can do?”
The officer pinched the bridge of his nose, looking just as disgusted as Rafe felt. “We have him on assault with a deadly weapon—”
“An angel is a deadly weapon?”
Officer Rhodes—according to his badge—shrugged. “No, but the leg of that table he swung at you is. He’s also in violation of the restraining order, not to mention his parole.” He looked over to where Cecily stood with the children and sighed. “Mr. Serento, I know it’s frustrating, but it’s not hopeless. We’re going to throw everything at this guy we can.”
“However long he gets won’t be long enough.”
“Not for your sister and those kids, it won’t.” Rhodes extracted his notebook from his jacket pocket and scribbled across the page. “Here.” He ripped the sheet off the spiral wire and passed it to Rafe.
“Bethany?” And below the name, the officer had included a phone number. “Who is this?”
“My sister. She’s co-founder of the Second Chance Foundation for women trying to escape abusive relationships.”
“Like a halfway house?” Annette and the girls had spent six months in a shelter before Rafe could get the money together for them to move. “I can’t put them through that, again.”
Rhodes rested his hands on his hips and nodded like someone who had been down this road before. “Beth is a real estate agent by day. The foundation raises money to buy foreclosures around the state and fixes them up to give women like your sister a new start.” He pointed at the slip of paper in Rafe’s hand. “Just call.”
Eventually, the police left, and the gawking neighbors retreated into their own homes. The girls wandered up to their room to play while Rafe and Annette worked in silence to put the living room back in order. Cecily had disappeared sometime during the chaos, but she’d stuck around longer than he’d expected.
“I’ll come back this weekend and patch the drywall.” Grunting, he kicked a piece of the broken end table. “We’ll replace these, too.”
“Rafe, stop it.” Annette took the trash bag from his hand and set it to the side. “You don’t have to take care of us.”
Sighing, he pulled his sister to him and kissed the top of her head. “I’d do anything for you. You know that.”
It wasn’t easy. He barely made enough at the club to cover his own bills, but he’d find a way to make it work. Even if he had to pick up a second job.
“No.” Pulling away, Annette narrowed her eyes at him, the same way he’d seen her do with the girls when they’d pushed her too far. “I love you, Rafe, but you have to start thinking about yourself. That girl?” She jerked her thumb toward the front door. “Cecily? I can see you care about her. It’s written all over your face. You should be taking her on walks in the park or out for nice dinners, not here cleaning up my mess.”
“Nettie, I can do all of those things with Cecily and still be here when you need me. I don’t have to choose.”
“You don’t have to save the world, either, Raphael.” She patted his cheek with her dainty hand and sighed. “I’m going to call the lady at the foundation.”
Rafe didn’t argue. Not because he didn’t have anything to say on the matter, but because Cecily chose that moment to stroll through the front door. “Honey, I’m home!” she sang, echoing his words from earlier that morning. “Who’s hungry?”
Following her into the kitchen, Rafe gaped as Cecily began pulling containers of food out of the plastic bags and placing them on the kitchen counter. “What is all this?”
“Well, I was hungry, and I think I read somewhere you’re supposed to feed kids at least three times a day.” Cecily plucked a French fry from the Styrofoam plate and pushed it into Rafe’s mouth. “See? It’s good.”
“How…I mean…”
“Did you know there’s a Jordan’s just two blocks from here? I love that place.”
“You walked two blocks to pick up dinner?”
“Uh, yes?” Sucking her bottom lips between her teeth, Cecily worried the flesh while she surveyed the food. “I didn’t know what the girls liked, so I just kind of got a bit of everything. Kids like fries, right? I got a side of macaroni and cheese, too. Did I do something wrong?”
Pushing the food to the side, Rafe lifted Cecily onto the counter, tangled his fingers in her hair, and kissed her until he couldn’t breathe. “No, you didn’t do anything wrong. Thank you.”
A pink flush tinted her cheeks, and she looked a little dazed, but the most beautiful smile stretched across her face. “It’s just some fish,” she mumbled.
It wasn’t about the food at all. Most people wouldn’t have stepped foot outside of that cab. They certainly wouldn’t have rushed into a possibly dangerous situation and taken control the way Cecily had. And she’d done it all without hesitation.
“You amaze me, woman.”
“I am fairly amazing. I can agree with that.” Sitting up straighter, she wrapped her arms around his neck and pulled him down until their lips met in a sweet, lazy kiss. “We should eat.”
Unwinding her arms, he eased out of her embrace and dug his cell phone out of his pocket. “I’ll get the girls and divvy up the food.” He pressed the phone into her hands and kissed her forehead. “Call Melissa. She’s probably home by now and worried about you.”
Cecily stared at the blank screen for a moment, handed the phone back, and jumped down from the counter. “She’s likely still with Aiden.”
“Cecily.”
“I’ll call her.” She searched through the cabinets until she found the plates. “Just not right now, okay?”
“When are you going to tell her about Aiden?” He held his hands up when she glared at him. “Just an observation. That first night at the apartment, it seemed like you knew him from somewhere.”
“The club.” A tired sigh rolled off her lips. “I don’t really know him, though. He hit on me, I shut him down, and that was the end of it.” She wouldn’t look at him, but when she passed by the window, the waning rays of sun glistened off a single tear as it trekked down her cheek. “Besides, she’d never believe me if I told her.”
“Hey.” Removing the plates from her hands, he set them to the side and cupped her cheeks, forcing her to meet his gaze. “What is it?”
“Nothing.” She sniffled a few times and swiped roughly at her face. “I guess the day is just catching up with me.”
Rafe held tight when she tried to pull away. “Cecily, talk to me. What’s really going on?”
“I hate that bastard for what he did to your sister, but all I can think about is…” Trailing off, she closed her eyes and sighed. “Never mind.”
“You’re afraid it could happen to Melissa.”
“Yes,” she breathed without opening her eyes. “I know you think I’m crazy—”
“I don’t.” He didn’t expect her to abandon Melissa or never worry about her. Rafe just wanted Cecily to see she didn’t have to sacrifice her own happiness in order to be her sister’s protector. “I think Annette has it from here. Let’s get you home.”
“No, no, it’s okay. We can stay.”
So stubborn. “Knock it off and let me take care of you for five minutes.”
“I don’t want to go home,” she admitted. “Not yet.”
Whatever Cecily was holding back wouldn’t stay bottled up much longer, and he doubted she’d want an audience for her breakdown. “Then let me take you to my place. It’s not the nicest, but I’ll stay out of your hair, and you can be alone until you’re ready.”
“That’s just it.” The tears fell faster now, and her lower lip wobbled as she spoke. “I don’t want to be alone.”
CHAPTER SEVEN
The cab driver pulled into the crater-filled parking lot of the small apartment complex and stopped behind a row of dusty and dent
ed cars.
“Stay here.” Rafe paid the driver, exited the vehicle, and then hurried around to open Cecily’s door. “Just stay close to me.”
The way he scanned their surrounding as they walked amused her, but she kept an impassive expression. Arriving at his first-floor apartment, he pulled her around beside him while he jiggled the key in the lock and cursed.
“I’ve complained twice now, and they still refuse to fix this damn thing.”
“Here, let me see it.” Sliding in front of him, Cecily leaned her shoulder against the door, pulled up on the knob, and twisted the key. “There we go.”
Gray paint, threadbare burgundy carpet, and the cabinet doors that didn’t quite fit on their hinges—walking into Rafe’s apartment was like stepping into the past. The sad drone of the refrigerator competed with the rhythmic drip of the faucet, and if she waited long enough, the water heater would clank when it cycled.
“How did you do that?”
“Push and lift,” she answered distractedly as she dangled his keys from her index finger. “How long have you lived here?”
“Almost a year.” Rafe ran his fingers through his hair, something she’d noticed he did when nervous. “It’s not much, but it’s more than I need.”
“You said you lived a few blocks from me. Rafe, we’re almost two miles from the club.”
“Technically, it is a few blocks. Besides, walking is cheaper than a gym pass.”
The sparse furnishings looked to be second-hand, but still in nice condition. “For a bachelor pad, this place is remarkably clean. I’m impressed.”
Rafe shrugged. “If all you have is a cardboard box, you can at least make sure the edges are straight.”
Poking through his DVD collection, she had to laugh at the number of Disney titles she found on the shelf. “Do these make you feel like a real princess, Rafe?”
“Those are my nieces’, smartass.” Rounding the sofa, he flopped down on the middle cushion and propped his feet up on the coffee table. “I keep them when I can to give Nettie a break. Angie and Maria are out of school for fall break this week, and I have tonight and tomorrow off at the club, so I’ve been getting the place ready for them.”
