Mr. Mafia came at him next, running with his head lowered. Zach reached out and grabbed the chain around his throat, twisting it tightly and cutting off the man's air supply. Mr. Mafia clawed at his throat, trying to free himself from Zach's grip. His face turned a vibrant purple, and Zach pushed him. He fell to the ground, coughing and gasping for air.
Seeing that they were unevenly matched, the two idiots hobbled away.
Zach had barely broken a sweat.
He rushed over to Quita, quickly checking her for broken bones. He lifted her shirt to see the bruising along her ribs. Gently, he prodded at them to check for any broken bones.
She moaned, trying to pull away from the pain.
"It's ok. It's me, Zach."
Her eyes fluttered open.
"Zach?" she croaked.
"Yeah, baby. I'm here."
"Knew you'd come," she muttered, and then her head fell back as she passed out again.
Zach scooped her up off the ground and carried her to his car, which he'd pulled into the alley. Thank God for her GPS signal, or he'd never have found her.
He gently placed her in the car, reclining the seat so she'd be comfortable. He snapped the seatbelt in place and ran around to the driver's side.
Backing out of the alley, he flew through the streets of New York City. He watched his mirrors, ensuring that they weren't being followed. When he was finally out on the highway, he relaxed just slightly. He needed to get Quita to a hospital or a hotel or something, so he could treat her wounds. He didn't think she had any broken bones.
A groan tore through the car and straight through his heart. Zach placed his hand on Quita's as she opened her eyes.
"You came?" she asked. She must not have remembered his being there earlier.
"I did."
"I don't deserve your friendship," she said, wincing as she tried to get comfortable in the seat.
"Nonsense. You're just doing the best you can. I get it."
"I just wanted to keep you safe. You and Isabel and the rest of the team. You all did so much for me. I know it looked like betrayal—me leaving like that and taking the files. I have my reasons." Quita sucked in a breath at the pain.
"I need to get you to a hospital," Zach said, pulling out his phone to navigate them to the closest emergency room.
Quita shook her head back and forth. "No. No hospital. Hospitals ask questions. I'm fine. Just bruised a bit."
She was bruised more than just a bit, but he'd let it go for now.
Quita hit the button on the side of the seat to raise it, and looked around.
"Where are we?"
"Jersey."
"Yeah, but where are you taking me?"
"My place."
"In D.C.?"
"That is where I live," he answered dryly.
"No, we can't. I have to go back and get the files."
Zach stilled, shooting her a look that had made grown men recoil in fear. She didn't budge.
"You don't have the files on you somewhere?"
She shook her head. "Of course not. They're hidden at the hostel I was staying at."
Zach cursed under his breath and turned on his signal as he changed lanes. He got off at the next exit that had signs for hotels. When he pulled up to one of them, Quita looked at him questioningly.
"What are we doing here? Zach, I need to go back to New York."
"Like that?" he asked, motioning to her many injuries. She pulled the visor down and winced when she saw her battered face. "You need medical attention. We'll stay here for a few hours. Get some sleep and tend to your injuries. Then tonight, we'll go back to the hostel and retrieve the files."
Quita nodded. Whether she agreed or not wasn't an issue right now. That was the plan. And he wasn't letting her out of his sight until he knew that she was safe and sound.
Zach parked the car and jogged inside to the motel office, securing them a room. He returned to the car to find Quita asleep in the passenger seat. She had to be beyond exhausted. She'd been running for her life for hours, then savagely beaten. He glanced down at her bare feet. With no shoes. That had to hurt like a son of a bitch.
He drove around the back side of the motel building and parked in front of their room. Zach had learned long ago to find places that you could pay for in cash, and that had more than one point of entry and exit. Hence, he ended up at a lot of motels that had clearly seen better days.
Getting out and rounding the car, he opened Quita's door and lifted her out. Her eyes flew open, and she grabbed onto him with both hands.
"Just taking you inside," he said.
She relaxed into him, allowing her head to rest on his chest. She felt good in his arms. Right, somehow. But he didn't have time to dwell on that. Right now, he needed to get her bandaged up.
Sticking the key into the door, Zach turned the knob, using his foot to push open the door. He set Quita down on the bed closest to the bathroom. Without saying a word, he went to the tub to run some water for her. Checking it to make sure that it was clean, he stopped it up and turned the water on as hot as she’d be able to stand it. The hot water would soothe her bruises.
When the bath was full, he came back into the room. Quita sat on the bed, her head lolling to the side. She was having a hard time staying awake.
"Let's get you into the bath," he said quietly.
Her eyes popped open in surprise. She nodded and went to stand, yelping and falling back to the bed. Zach moved over, lifting one of her feet into his hands.
They were a bloody mess, the skin ripped like ribbons.
He stood, tugging at the hem of her black t-shirt. "We need to get this off and get you into that bath. It will help your injuries. Your feet need to be cleaned, as well as the cuts and scrapes on your hands, knees, and face."
Unashamed of her nakedness, she raised her arms, allowing him to pull the shirt off over her head. She'd been a stripper and, from what he'd gathered, had also been pimped out to any man willing to pay for her services. Being nude in front of a man wasn't new to her.
But it was certainly unnerving for him.
She was beautiful, her full breasts covered in black lace. Her skin was like peaches and cream, with not a blemish on her—other than the bruising along her ribs. His breath caught as he took in her loveliness.
"You going to stare at me, or get me into the bath?" Quita asked, a gentle teasing in her voice.
"Sorry," he mumbled, and tugged her jeans down her legs. She wore thong underwear, and he groaned aloud. "You're killing me."
Quita managed a half-laugh. "If I wasn't in so much pain, I'd be flattered. As it is, all I can think about is sinking into the heat of that tub. Maybe another time," she said with a wink.
Zach shook his head. He wasn't going there. As attracted as he was to her, he knew that she had some serious issues. And if she didn't, he had enough for the both of them.
He lifted her in his arms and carried her to the bath, not bothering to take off her underwear. She could do that after he left. When he laid her in the tub, she sighed as the water covered her battered body.
"Like heaven," she whispered. Zach stood up and headed for the door.
"I'll be right outside if you need anything. Just yell. I'm going to walk out to the car and get my first aid kit, but I'll be back in two minutes."
"Not going anywhere," she muttered quietly. He'd need to check on her as soon as he got back. He didn't want her falling asleep and drowning in the bathtub.
He ran to the car, retrieving the first aid kit from the trunk, and rushed back. Knocking on the bathroom door, he called out, "You ok?"
"You've been gone like thirty seconds. Of course I'm ok. I've barely gotten my bra off in that time."
Thoughts of Quita topless ran through his mind, but he tried to block them out.
Keep busy. Keep busy, he thought.
Sully. He'd be up by now and would be wondering where Zach was. He needed to call him.
Zach dialed his number, and Sully
answered on the first ring.
"Castle."
"Hey, man, I'm in Jersey."
There was a long pause.
"Why the hell are you in Jersey?"
"Quita called. She was being chased. We're holed up in a motel and will go back to where she was staying tonight to get the drive."
"Wait, back up. You're with Quita? Bruno's girlfriend? The one who stole from us and then disappeared without a trace?"
"About sums it up."
"I don't trust her."
"She said she was trying to protect us. Thought she could outrun them. Obviously, she was wrong. By the time I reached her, they'd beaten her unconscious."
"Dammit."
"My thoughts exactly. She hid the drive somewhere in the hostel she was staying in. We'll go back tonight and get it, then head your way."
"Be safe, man. I don't like this one bit."
"Always."
Zach hung up and set up the first aid supplies on the counter. He'd need to clean her feet even though she was in the bathtub now. They'd need antibiotic cream on them. Who knew what she'd run across in the street that could cause infection? He hated to be the one to hurt her further, but if she wouldn't go to the hospital, they needed to take as many precautions as possible.
"Zach?" her soft voice lilted through the door.
"I'm here."
"Can you get me a towel and help me out?"
Zach groaned quietly. He opened the door, not looking at her lying there naked in the bathtub, and pulled a towel from the rack above the toilet. He opened it wide, holding it open and essentially blocking his view of her luscious body with the towel. She slid up and onto the side of the tub, and then pulled the edges of the towel around her.
Without waiting to ask for permission, Zach lifted her out of the tub and carried her to the counter just inside the door. He sat her there, letting her feet fall into the sink.
"I need to clean these," he said, lifting one foot gently and examining the bottom of it.
Quita nodded.
"It's going to hurt. I have to sanitize it since you were running around the dirty streets barefoot. I don't want it to get infected."
"I know."
Zach opened the bottle of alcohol and held it over her foot.
"Ready?"
She nodded again.
He turned the bottle over, allowing the sharp-smelling liquid to pour over her abused flesh. Quita hissed through her mouth. Tears swam in her eyes, and when she blinked, one rolled down her cheek.
"I'm sorry," Zach said, wiping the tear with the pad of his finger.
"S'ok. Not your fault."
"Well, it kind of is, since I poured it on you," he said, hoping to distract her with a little humor.
"Funny," she said, one side of her mouth tugging into a half-smile.
Zach carefully wiped away any lingering debris from her foot, then covered it in antibiotic ointment. He placed gauze over the wounds and then wrapped her entire foot in an ace bandage.
He repeated the process on the other side, giving Quita his hand to squeeze when he poured the alcohol over the wounds. Once her feet were bandaged, he brushed a cloth over her face, removing the blood that had dried there. He put more ointment on her cuts and scrapes, and then moved to her hands.
When he was done, he picked her up and took her to the bed, pulling the covers back and laying her down on the sheet. She pulled the towel closed around her where it had come loose, and then tucked it between her breasts. Tucking the covers up under her chin, she relaxed back against the pillow.
"I know this isn't a five-star hotel, but hopefully you can get some rest. You've had a long night."
"Understatement of the year," she answered back. "But you're tired, too, I'm sure."
Zach nodded. "I’m just going to clean up a little bit, and then I'll rest for a little while. We can get some food when we wake up, and I'll run out and get a fresh change of clothes for you."
He turned around and walked back to the bathroom.
"Zach?" she whispered.
"Hmm?"
"Thank you."
"Anytime."
As he stood in the shower, the hot water easing the tension in his muscles, he wondered at the connection he felt with Quita.
It was hard to remember that he couldn't have her. She needed a man who was strong. Whole.
Zach was afraid he'd never be whole again.
Chapter 3
"No! Nooo! Stop! Leave me alone!"
The cries woke Quita from a deep sleep. Glancing over, she saw Zach thrashing about in his bed, his arms and legs tangled in the sheets.
"Stop! No! Please! Jake!"
Quita slid to the edge of the bed, gingerly testing how much weight she could put on her damaged feet. Realizing that she was still naked under the towel, she reached for the t-shirt Zach had taken off and laid at the end of his bed, and pulled it on over her head. She secured the towel around her waist, took a step, and sat on Zach's bed, gently shaking his shoulders.
"Zach. Wake up."
Zach continued to struggle against his unseen enemy. Quita shook him harder.
"Zach! Zach! It's me. Wake up!"
Zach jerked forward, grabbing Quita by the shoulders and pushing her off the bed. Her head snapped back, hitting the floor with a thud. Pain exploded behind her eyes. Zach climbed on top of her, wrapping his hands around her throat.
Quita grabbed at his hands, panic flooding her. She could tell that he wasn't himself. That he wasn't awake—he wasn't here. She bucked and clawed at his hands.
"Stop," she croaked out. "Zach, please."
Zach shook his head, clarity returning to his eyes. He removed his hands and, confused, looked at Quita for a moment. Her breathing was labored, and tears were running tracks down her cheeks.
"Quita?"
She couldn't answer. Her throat was sore where he'd squeezed, and her head was pounding.
Regret and horror filled Zach's eyes. "Oh no. What have I done?" He scooped her up in his arms and cradled her to him. "I'm so sorry. So, so sorry." He rocked back and forth as if trying to comfort himself as much as her.
"I’m fine," she whispered.
"What if—" he started.
"I’m fine. Nothing happened. Just a bump on the head."
Zach was quiet, and Quita knew that he was facing guilt and shame for what had happened. But she also knew that people who had experienced trauma could experience dreams that were so real that they couldn't differentiate real life from what was going on in their minds.
"Are you ok?" she asked.
Zach laughed, a bitter laugh that held no humor. "Am I ok? I almost choke you to death, and you ask me if I'm ok?"
He picked her up and laid her on the bed. Then he stood staring at her, the recrimination written plainly on his face.
"I'm ok, Zach," she said, reaching for his hand and squeezing it. "Have you tried talking to someone?"
He shook his head. "There's nothing to talk about. I don't usually sleep so soundly. I won't let it happen again."
With those words, he stomped towards the bathroom, shutting the door behind him. Quita sat for several minutes, wondering what had happened to cause him to flip out like that. She knew Zach well enough to know that he was kind, gentle, and strong. Whatever had happened in his past had to have been terrible in order for him to lose it the way he had.
His cries had been gut-wrenching. Tears welled in her eyes, and Quita let them flow, sobbing softly for whatever atrocity had caused Zach so much pain. Minutes passed, and Zach came out of the bathroom. He pulled on a button-down shirt and left it hanging open, then slipped into his shoes. Grabbing his keys off the dresser, he strode towards the door.
"Zach?"
"Get some sleep. I'll be back soon."
Pulling open the door, he stepped out and closed it softly behind him. Quita sat there in the dark, waiting for Zach to return. Soon her eyes grew heavy, the events of the night too much for her, and she succumbed to sleep.
The afternoon sun peeked through the ratty curtains of the cheap motel, their threadbare layers not enough to keep out the powerful rays. Quita rose up on her elbows, her head pounding from the hits she'd taken earlier. It was a wonder she had any coherent thoughts left in her brain.
Getting to her feet, she was relieved to find that they didn't hurt quite as badly as they had the night before. She wouldn't be running anywhere soon, but the antibiotic ointment seemed to have worked wonders. She went to the bathroom and washed her face, wincing at the reflection staring back at her. The bruises had turned a lovely shade of purple. Maybe she could convince Zach to stop and get her some makeup before they went back into the city.
The motel room door opened, and Zach walked in, bags hanging from both hands. He nodded to her as he closed the door.
"You sleep ok?" he asked.
"Yeah."
Zach put the bags on the dresser, watching her but not saying anything. Ok, so it was going to be awkward.
"Look, Zach—"
"I just wanted to say—"
The both started talking at the same time. Quita smiled and waited for Zach to speak.
He took a deep breath and then blew it out, shoving his hands through his hair. It was a golden brown, as if he spent a lot of time in the sun. His skin was also bronzed, and it brought out the sea-green color of his eyes. Quita drank him in, wishing things were different. Wishing she'd met him a long time ago.
"I’m sorry about this morning," he finally said.
"Does that happen often?"
"More than I'd like. It's why I never sleep more than an hour or two at a time. And I try not to let myself get too fatigued. Unfortunately, last night was a recipe for disaster."
"You didn't hurt me," she started.
"I did hurt you. And it could have been worse. If I hadn't…if you hadn't been…" He sighed heavily and sank onto the bed. "I don't want to hurt you. You've already been through so much."
"I'm not scared of you, Zach. Last night wasn't you. You were reliving something in your past. Something terrible, I'm assuming. I refuse to be afraid of you."
Quita thought back to his gentleness with her when he'd found her broken and bleeding on the floor of her Vegas townhome. Bruno had beaten her almost to death. She'd had multiple contusions, a concussion, a broken arm, and several bruised ribs. She had been so badly beaten, she couldn't even drag herself to the bathroom or to the phone to call for help. Fortunately, Zach and his team had shown up and taken her to the hospital. If they hadn't…she shook the thought from her mind.
Castle Investigations Box Set Page 75