April rolled off of her and cursed. “Your leg?”
Maia took inventory. “It hurts like the devil, but I think the stitches held. Bless the plastic surgeon.” She sat up. Her skin was warming and chunks of red and blue ice fell on the carpet when she moved. “What is this?”
“Slushie.” April flicked a chunk off Maia’s shoulder. “Berry blue and raspberry red, if I remember my flavors correctly. You okay?”
Maia nodded. “I think so.” She shook out her arms, spraying the limo floor with slush. “What the heck was that?” She laughed. “I can’t believe that just happened.”
April wasn’t laughing. “What did he yell?”
Maia’s laughter died as her attacker’s words came back full force. She swallowed the lump of fear in her throat. “‘You’re not good enough for him.’”
“Who? London! You think this has to do with London?”
Maia considered the question. “Or Franz. No one knows I know London. We’ve been on the DL.”
“It can’t be Franz. You guys don’t go out unless it’s official. No one in their right mind would think you were together.”
“Does this look like someone in their right mind?” Maia held up her red-and-blue-and—in some places where the flavors mixed—purple-stained arms.
“I guess not.” April’s phone rang. She checked the screen. “It’s Aaron.”
“That’s just great. You’d better answer.”
April accepted the call. “Aaron, there’s a little situation here.”
“I heard.”
“How did you hear about it so quickly?” April demanded. “We aren’t even dried off yet.”
“The photographers caught the whole incident. They went live. I’m watching them haul the guy off.”
“They caught him.” April struggled to her knees.
“Head over to the police department so you can make a statement. Legal is all over this.”
Maia sighed. “I look like the creature from the Blue Lagoon, Aaron. I want a shower!” Maia yelled towards April’s phone.
“Sorry, kiddo.”
“Don’t call me kiddo,” Maia ground out.
Aaron fell silent, probably wondering where his sweet princess had gone.
“I’m going to the police station, Aaron, but you owe me one.”
“I hear ya,” he griped.
Maia blinked once. “All right then.” April took care of saying goodbye, and Maia leaned forward to tell the driver their new destination. Her night of fun and slipping back into her old life became a giant headache with a side of sticky underwear.
Chapter Twenty-Three
London had just finished a tasteless dinner at the Sanchez family restaurant. The food wasn’t the issue. The issue was him. He was unable to taste anything—not even Mrs. Sanchez’s baja bowl with extra spice. He rubbed his hand over his stomach, briefly wondering if his stomach would wake him in the middle of the night to tell him the sauce was full of fire.
The restaurant had bright yellow walls with sombreros and blankets as decoration. The red booths and black tables provided an attractive contrast and an easy place to talk.
Teo Parata and his family were there, all crowded around a table with Teo’s son in a high chair. The toddler could pound rice. London watched Cedar, Teo’s new wife, lift several of Akoni’s chins to clean out food. She’d laughed and smiled and glowed and made London want a family so bad he got ticked off at his situation all over again.
He settled behind the wheel, staring at nothing. He didn’t even put the key in the ignition. Little things like starting a car were hard when he felt like his very life was slipping through his fingers. Maia had never questioned them before. She’d been the one solid in his life—the happy side to all the misery at his house. His life was on track now, mostly Dad-free, and he was losing her.
He rested his forehead against the steering wheel. “What more can I do, Lord?” Silence was his answer. That didn’t deter him. The pastor who had counseled him and Mom through the divorce had told him silence was a gift as much as a burning bush or a finger writing on tablets. It is in the silence we can learn to feel God’s peace. London had grabbed on to the peace back in the day. Silence was beautiful. Silence meant no one was hurting, no one was being hurt.
But he was in an empty car, all alone in the silence, and he was still hurting.
“Anything, Lord. Can you please send me some kind of a sign?”
His phone rang and he jumped, staring at it in the cup holder. Lord? he asked silently. With a roll of his eyes at himself, he answered. “This is London.”
“Mr. Wilder, this is Officer Bullon. You need to come to the station immediately.”
London shoved the keys in the ignition. “I’m on my way.” He hung up without saying goodbye and threw the car into gear.
London rushed through the streets, narrowly missing the back end of a semi truck as he pulled into the station.
Bullon met him at the door. “You must have been close. That was fast.”
London lifted his eyebrows and gave him an if-you-want-to-believe-that look.
Bullon chose to ignore him. “This way.”
They chugged back into the same annoying interview room. At least there wasn’t a one-way mirror on the wall. A laptop sat open on the tabletop. “One of our receptionists saw this tonight and phoned me.” He hit the space bar and the video played.
There was Maia getting out of a limo. Her dress was amazing, and the slit up her thigh? He grabbed the edge of the table. She shouldn’t be allowed to walk around in public —she was a heart attack waiting to happen for some poor, unsuspecting male.
The camera jostled and a man ran at Maia with two cups in his hands. London tensed. His eyes were sewn to the screen, unable to look away. The right cup flew through the air, the icy blue liquid hitting Maia square in the face. London’s hand went to his face as if he were trying to block the attack. Her hands flew up, too, and she leaned away, but her eyes were closed. She had no idea where the next attack was coming from.
London’s heart squeezed so tightly in his chest he thought it might explode from the pressure.
“You’re not good enough for him!” screamed the madman, before throwing the second drink.
London knew that swing, knew the crazy voice.
Maia’s arms straightened at her sides, liquid falling from her fingertips, right before April all but tackled her into the back of the limo. The guy in a blue jacket threw their skirts and legs in and slammed the door. A member of the herd of reporters tackled her attacker and several people piled on top of them to hold him down.
The cameraman zoomed in on the pile and caught the wide eyes and red face of London’s estranged father.
London shook with rage.
“Do you know why he would—?”
“He hates Maia. Thinks she comes from trash and is trash.”
“I’ll talk to her people. Maybe he’s been harassing her.”
“He hasn’t—wouldn’t need to.” London ran his hand down his face. “Maia and I recently started dating again.”
“Again? You have a history with this woman?”
London barely kept the lid on the hot pot of emotions threatening to boil over. He nodded in response.
“And your dad …”
“His happiest day was the day we broke up.” Dad was sick and twisted. The monster’s happiest day was the day he’d almost murdered his wife and beat his son.
“So he finds out you two are dating again and decides to go after her.”
“How did he know? No one knew—we were on the DL. Deep DL.”
“I’ll add that to our list of questions.” He spun his pen around his thumb. “London, I need to tell you: because of his behavior, he will probably go to a mental institution instead of jail.”
“Even for what he did to my mom?”
“Unless we can prove he was in his right mind at the time, yes.”
London’s head hung low. “The man is a mons
ter. He shouldn’t get mercy; he never gave me any.”
“It’s up to the judge. I suggest you hire a lawyer and go in guns blazin’.” Bullon smiled. “He’s in custody in New York,” said Bullon. “We’ve placed a call, tagging him as ours. I don’t know how—”
“Where is she?” London pointed to the screen.
Bullon stared at him. “The woman.” He blinked. “Your woman. Oh man! I didn’t even think. Of course you want to see her. She’s at the police station in—”
“Text it to me,” London called over his shoulder as he ran out the door. He had to get to Maia. He had to tell her he was sorry he brought this mess into her life; he had to tell her he still loved her, and he needed to tell her it was okay if she said goodbye—she was too good for his messy life.
Chapter Twenty-Four
Maia stuck to a plastic chair in the police station. It was one of the chairs they had in high schools in the 1970s, avocado-green and covered in anonymous scratches. If anyone ever wondered where all those chairs went, she’d point them in the right direction.
April occupied the seat next to her. Her head leaned against the wall behind them, and her mouth was slightly open as she slept. That was not a comfortable position for her neck, and she was going to regret falling asleep at all when she woke up, but Maia didn’t have the heart to wake her. They’d been in the same chairs for several hours after giving their statements, waiting to point out her attacker in a lineup.
Aaron had texted April nonstop for five minutes before Maia was sick of it. She’d taken April’s phone and typed, Maia’s fine. She will call you when she’s finished with the police. Then, she’d turned April’s phone off and offered her friend a smile. “You’re officially off duty.”
April’s whole frame sank with relief.
The officer in charge, Walsh, was putting together a lineup for Maia to eyeball her attacker when a shooter was brought in, high as a kite. He kicked and screamed and threw himself against the furniture and pulled Walsh off the “Icy Case,” as April had labeled it.
They were assured Walsh would be out any minute to pick up where he left off.
She probably wouldn’t be able to rise out of the chair when he did arrive. This whole situation was ridiculous and baffling.
“Maia!” barked an older officer with hair so white it looked like a dusting of freshly fallen snow.
She lifted her arm. “Here.”
He motioned for her to follow. Maia licked her lips. “This will be interesting.” She put her palms on the sides of the seat and pushed up. Her bottom lifted quickly, but her thighs and the fabric painted on them, peeled slowly off the chair. She turned around to find a perfect outline of her backside in red and blue crusted sugar. “Sorry about your chair.” She hobbled to the open door, her injured leg more sore than the rest of her. The fall into the back of the limo didn’t do her tight muscles any favors.
The snowy officer paused. “You okay, miss?”
She gritted out a smile. “As good as can be expected.”
“Can I call someone for you?”
Maia shook her head, feeling crunchy sections of her hair scrape across her back. Ew. “Thank you, I’ll be fine.”
He nodded and continued down the hall, going slower than before. At a nondescript brown door, he paused. “You’ll be able to see them, but they won’t be able to see you.” His voice was paternal in nature. “He may react to thinking you’re in here, though, and could become agitated.”
She lifted her chin. “I’m not scared.”
“That’s right.” He swept open the door, and Maia entered the darkened room. The officer pushed a button on the wall and a buzzer sounded. Maia stepped closer to the window and watched the men file in. She searched their faces, looking for something familiar. The attack happened so quickly she didn’t have time to get a look at the man. “I’m sorry. I don’t …” She stopped. “Can you, can you have them each say something? Maybe I can remember his voice.”
“We don’t usually do that.”
“I know, but voices and music are my thing. I’m more likely to remember a voice than a face. And he seemed familiar when he yelled at me.” She shuddered to think she’d known anyone who would act insane.
The officer picked up a phone on the wall and gave instructions to the men standing against the white wall with black lines indicating height.
The first man stepped forward and said, “You’re not good enough for him.” He stepped back in his place, an uninterested expression on his pale face.
Maia shook her head.
The second man stepped forward. He was tall but not large and wore several layers of clothing. His whole being was wrinkled and stained as if he’d slept outside in them for several nights. He glared at the window.
“Go ahead,” the officer said into the phone.
He continued to glare. Maia searched his face. Her eyes carved over his square, whisker-covered jaw, and the lines framing his mouth. She finally stared into his eyes and gasped. Molasses black. Like London’s. Her stomach turned to acid and ran into her legs, making them turn to jelly. She stumbled back, raising her hands over her face. “No.” Reed’s cruel stare came at her full force, backed by all the horrible things he’d said to her face and as she walked away from the few times she’d run into him at the stadium.
As if he could feel her recognition, he charged the window and slammed both hands flat against the glass. Officers barreled in, ready to restrain him. “You’re not good enough for him!” he screamed.
Of all the whispers, the name-calling, the people who looked down their nose at her, Reed was the worst. She hated him above all others because he didn’t have the small shred of decency it took to talk behind her back; he said all the things she never wanted to hear right to her face. Maia had thought he was trying to intimidate her into breaking things off with London, but London was the best thing that happened to her up to that point in her life—and maybe up to this one too. She still wasn’t sure about things between them.
Staring at Reed as he foamed at the mouth in anger, a new light fell on high school London. Like a spotlight on a stage, she saw their whole relationship through different eyes—saw him through different eyes. Her hand pressed against her forehead, the force of the new information shooting like electricity through her memories. Growing up under this man’s thumb was—unthinkable.
She moved her hand to her throat as her mind opened up to look at the past again. “That’s him,” she rasped out. “I’d know his voice anywhere.”
“Yeah—he’s pretty agitated thinking you are in here.” He picked up the phone again. “Take ’em out.”
Maia gathered herself and got to her feet. “Sorry about the chair.”
The officer waved off her concern. “Don’t be. It’s seen worse.”
Maia wrinkled her nose. “Great.” She brushed off her backside and then wrinkled her nose at her hand, wondering if she’d ever get to wash again.
The officer lifted a shoulder and showed her back out to the waiting room. April was awake, chewing her fingernail. Maia wanted to scream at her to keep her fingers away from her mouth. This place was worse than a hospital when it came to germs.
She was still shocked Reed had attacked her—in such a weird way. The man was clearly missing a few tacos in his food truck. Lights of understanding began to flip on. Karen divorced Reed because he was violent, and London was reluctant to discuss his relationship with his dad. He should have told her, though—especially if he knew this was a possibility.
He had mentioned she should get a security guard, but he’d never explained why. Well, he was going to do a lot of explaining as soon as she washed the sugar out of her hair.
“You are free to go. We’ll call you if we need you to come back in.”
The hours of waiting pulled on Maia’s eyelids. All she wanted was a shower and a bed. She’d take a warm bath she could fall asleep in if it would speed up the process. April turned her phone back on, and it began to din
g over and over again like a possessed slot machine.
“Throw it in the bushes. I’ll buy you a new one,” Maia offered.
April smiled sadly. “If only it were that simple.” They continued through the maze of hallways following the signs that promised an exit. Finally, they managed to thrust open the double doors and enter the dark before sunrise.
“Maia!”
Maia turned toward the call. Her mouth fell open. “London?”
He rushed her, which was kind of his job on the field, but she’d never been lifted off the ground with such power and tenderness all at once. He cocooned her in his arms and held her tight to his chest.
Maia couldn’t relax into his embrace. He had withheld information that put her in harm’s way. Sure, it was just a few slushies, but it could have been worse. He set her down and ran his hands over almost every inch of her. “Are you okay? I can’t tell you how worried I’ve been.” His hands traced her cheekbones, light as a kiss, and then down her neck as he inspected her.
“I’m fine, too,” called April.
London smiled over Maia’s head. “Thank you, April. Your quick action was amazing. I’m going to use your video for training purposes.”
April blushed. “I’m going to call an Uber and go back to the hotel. You good?” she asked Maia.
Maia took a deep breath, knowing her shower was postponed. “I’ll be fine.” London may have withheld information, but he would always be her protector.
“There’s a diner on the corner. Do you want something warm to drink?” London offered. His eyes, a copy of his father’s, were rimmed with worry, and there were dark circles under his lower lashes.
Maia glanced down at her dress. The night was shot. Her dress was ruined. And her hair wasn’t going to move—at all. “Why not?”
They made their way down the street. Maia’s heel caught in a crack on the sidewalk and she stumbled forward. London caught her, saving her from face-planting on the concrete. He righted her faster than she fell and offered his arm.
She eyed him warily. “I don’t know if we should.” Her body was on London’s side of things. She didn’t want to give her heart a chance to influence her decision.
The Warrior Groom_Texas Titans Romances Page 13