by Tracy Wolff
That wasn’t what Rafael had wanted to hear.
He yanked open the center’s front door, barreled through it without looking, and ran straight into Vivian. The impact had her teetering in the ridiculous heels she liked to wear, and he grabbed her elbows to steady her.
“Are you all right?” he demanded gruffly, bending down so they were eye to eye. “Did I hurt you?”
“I’m fine. Just a little surprised.” She pushed away from him, ran a hand over her tightly restrained hair. “So, where are you going in such a hurry?”
Her voice was smooth, like the silver tequila his mama kept for special occasions, and ripped right through him despite the precariousness of the situation. She sounded as smart and put together as she looked, and while that would normally have made him happy, today it only made him worry more.
How the hell was he going to convince this intelligent, savvy woman that Diego hadn’t run, when he couldn’t even convince himself?
With a sinking heart, he turned and led Vivian back to his office, all the while wondering exactly what he could say to convince her not to dump Diego.
Whatever it was, it had better be good.
VIVIAN’S KNEES KNOCKED together as Rafael’s black eyes met hers. He looked as bristly and obnoxious as ever, as if those few minutes after the bike ride the other night had never happened.
She started to get her back up, to give as good as she got from him. But when she looked closer, she saw worry in his tense jaw and lowered brows. Her heart sped up in response.
“Rafael? Is everything okay?” She took a step toward him, glanced around. “Where’s Diego?”
Was it her imagination or did he stiffen even more? A sick feeling started in the pit of her stomach, though she tried to tell herself she was being too sensitive. When Rafael opened his mouth to speak, only to close it before any words came out, she felt the sickness turn into something more. Something worse.
“Where’s Diego?” she repeated, her instincts warning her that that was the root of Rafael’s concern.
He stared at her for long seconds, then finally shook his head. “I haven’t got a clue. I was on my way to look for him when you got here.”
Her stomach clenched. “You were in an awful big hurry. Do you know something I don’t?”
“I don’t know anything. That’s the whole point. Except that it’s not like Diego to be late.” Rafael strode over to his desk, picked up the phone and punched in a few numbers. There was a pause as he waited for whoever it was to answer, and then a spate of Spanish she couldn’t understand.
“What did they say?” she asked as soon as he put the phone down. But he held up a hand to stop her, then repeated the process a second time. And a third.
When she felt she was going to burst if she didn’t get some answers, Vivian reached across the desk and grabbed his arm. “What’s going on? Who are you calling? What did they say?”
Rafael’s mouth was grim, his eyes more so when he answered, “No one’s seen him since yesterday. He wasn’t in school today, and he isn’t here. It’s like he disappeared.”
“How could he disappear?”
“I don’t know.”
“Do you think something happened to him?”
“I don’t know.” His voice got louder.
“Do you think—do you think he’s hiding? This is a lot to deal with—”
“I don’t know!” It was all but a roar. “I don’t know anything, Vivian, that’s the whole point. I haven’t got a clue where Diego is or what he’s doing or who he’s doing it with. If I did, don’t you think I’d find him and drag him back here? He knew about this meeting, knew how important it was that he didn’t miss it.”
His shoulders slumped, and for the first time since she’d met him, Rafael looked as lost and confused as she often felt.
A kernel of sympathy bloomed inside of her and she moved around the desk, laid a gentle hand on his shoulder. “Maybe he’s just late?”
“Maybe.” Rafael shrugged, his powerful muscles bunching beneath her palm.
“You don’t think that’s an option.”
He started to say something, then just shook his head.
“Well, let’s be logical about this then. Where had you planned on checking earlier, when you were rushing out of here?”
“His dad’s house. The church down the street he likes to go to. His favorite restaurant two streets over.”
“So let’s do that.”
“I just did—that’s who I called. No one’s seen him.”
“Well, let’s check somewhere else then. Surely there are other places he hangs out. Maybe someplace he used to go with Esme?”
“You want to help me look for Diego?” Rafael looked shocked.
“Why are you so surprised? Of course I do.”
He leaned forward and those troubled midnight eyes probed her face, though she had no idea what he was looking for. “Why would you do that?” he finally asked, his voice little more than a whisper. “Wouldn’t it be easier for you if he disappeared?”
She started to tell him to go to hell, but bit her tongue at the last second. Hadn’t there been enough assumptions and anger between them already? “Rafael, I took Diego on as a client, which means I care about what’s best for him. And if you think something’s wrong, with him not being here, then I’m going to believe you. Obviously you know him a lot better than I do and—”
The classroom door burst open and one of the kids she’d seen the other day rushed through it, a cordless phone in his hand.
Marco. She pulled the name out of her memory banks. The one who’d been playing the video game with the skateboarder and had teased Rafael about beating his score.
“Rafa, man, it’s Saint Francis Hospital. They say they’ve got an injured kid there with your card in his pocket.”
CHAPTER FIVE
RAFA LEAPED FOR THE PHONE, barking “Hello” before she could even process Marco’s news. But she could see the fear in Rafael’s eyes, a fear she knew was reflected in her own. If the hurt kid was Diego, what had happened to him? Whatever it was, it was bad—the urgency in Rafael’s voice told her that much.
For a couple of minutes that felt like hours, he kept up a cryptic one-sided conversation, and when he hung up, anger had joined the worry and hurt in his face.
“Diego?” she asked as she reached for her briefcase.
“I don’t know. Whoever the boy is, he’s in the ICU, floating in and out of consciousness. Somebody found him a couple of hours ago, near Trujillo’s, but whoever called it in didn’t wait around to talk to the EMTs.”
She had no idea what Trujillo’s was, but figured now wasn’t the time to ask, not when Rafael was already halfway out the door.
“Wait!” She took off after him, the feeling a new sensation, as she wasn’t used to trailing anyone. “I’m coming with you.”
“Go home,” he retorted over his shoulder as he headed down the hallway. “I’ll call you when I know something.”
“That’s bullshit. I want to know what happened as much as you do. And if the police have been called, he’ll need an attorney there.”
“He’s the victim.”
“Yeah, well, he’s also accused of murder. In a lot of precincts that supersedes any rights he might have, and I think you know that.”
The grim look Rafael gave her said that he did indeed know what she was talking about. Probably better than she did.
He kept walking while they talked, swinging out into the alley without another backward glance. “We’ll take my bike—it’s faster.”
Taking a deep breath, Vivian shoved down any reticence she had about getting on the thing again, then grabbed up the helmet she’d worn the last time and slipped it over her head before climbing onto the motorcycle. “Let’s go.”
He didn’t say anything else as he swung onto the bike in front of her, but as he got ready to start it, he half yelled, “Hang on.”
Like he thought she was suicidal? Despite
enjoying her last ride, she was still more than a tinge anxious. Of course she was going to hang on—as tightly as possible.
Inching forward, she wrapped her arms around his waist and tried not to whimper when he whipped into traffic as if the devil himself was after them.
As Rafael weaved through cars, it occurred to her just how easy he’d taken it during their last ride. No quick lane changes, no darting in front of cars, no daredevil speeds. The same thing couldn’t be said of him today as he raced toward the nearest hospital.
She stifled a curse as he cut off an 18-wheeler, then zipped between two lanes of bumper-to-bumper cars. He ignored the shouts and raised fingers in a way she couldn’t, and finally she ended up closing her eyes and resting her head against his back to block out the insanity.
She stayed that way until she felt him pull to a stop.
As Rafael climbed off the bike, holding out a hand to help her off, as well, Vivian barely resisted the urge to fall to her knees and kiss the ground. Next time they were taking her car, and to hell with whether or not the motorcycle was faster. She’d pick slow and alive over quick and dead any day.
By the time she’d recovered her equilibrium, Rafael was once again striding away. Left with no other option than to scramble behind him like a lost puppy dog, she did her best to catch up.
The guard in the hospital lobby directed them to the elevators that would take them to intensive care. Once there the nurses simply got out of Rafa’s way as he swept down the hallway toward the unknown boy’s room. If she’d had a heavily muscled six-foot-six man dressed in jeans and black leather barreling down on her, she’d probably get out of his way as well, and to hell with the rules.
It wasn’t until they turned the corner into the room that Rafael lost his momentum. The single-minded drive that had gotten him this far seemed to desert him, and he paused at the threshold as he gazed hesitantly at the bed. “Damn,” he murmured, and as she turned her head to look at the victim for the first time, she understood what had shaken Rafael up.
The figure in the bed was almost unrecognizable as the boy she’d met the night before. His face was swollen and black-and-blue, his head bandaged. Both arms were in casts, and the fingers sticking out from the ends were as swollen and purple as his face.
“Oh, my God!” She crossed the room, reaching for Diego with trembling hands. She stopped herself at the last second, afraid that her touch would only hurt him more.
There didn’t seem to be a spot on his body that wasn’t bruised or broken.
“You poor baby,” she murmured past the lump in her throat. “You poor, poor baby.”
She glanced behind her at Rafael, who hadn’t left his post by the door. His jaw was clenched so tightly she feared he might break his teeth, and his hands were curled into fists. His eyes were colder than she had ever seen them.
“Rafael.” She spoke softly, tried to get him focused on her instead of the fury that had his big body trembling.
“They were trying to kill him. Whoever did this was trying to kill him.”
The attorney in her had her cautioning, “We don’t know that yet.”
“Don’t we?” He stalked forward until he was standing next to the bed. “Look at him.”
“I know. But—”
Vivian broke off as a tall, blond woman in a white doctor’s coat entered the room. “Are you Rafael Cardoza?” she asked, her voice wary.
He tensed. “I am.”
“My name is Sandra Graham. I’m this boy’s doctor. Do you know him?”
“His name is Diego Sanchez and I’m his court-appointed guardian.”
“Excellent.” She smiled at both of them, though she still looked a little nervous. “There’s some paperwork you’ll need to fill out when we’re done talking. I’ll have the nurse bring it to you.”
“Will he be okay?” Vivian asked.
“I think so. But he has a lot of painful injuries and he needs time to heal—that’s why I’ve put him into a drug-induced coma.”
“What’s wrong with him?” Rafael’s voice was rusty.
“He’s got a severe concussion and there’s some swelling of his brain. It’s perfectly normal in cases like these, but we’ll be watching him closely to make sure it goes down in the next few days. He also has three broken ribs, one of which punctured his right lung. His left wrist and elbow are broken. His kidneys and spleen are bruised.”
“Jesus. Is that everything?”
“Not quite.” This time the doctor’s smile was more a snarl. “He’s also got numerous bruises and contusions, some of which needed stitches. Whoever did this to the kid knew what they were doing. They wanted to cause as much pain as possible, and they succeeded. He’s going to be miserable for a quite a while.”
“But he will be okay?” Rafael reiterated.
“He should be. He’s young and strong, but, as always in ICU, the next twenty-four hours are critical. Let’s wait and see how he responds when we bring him out of the coma tomorrow evening.”
“Thank you.” Vivian tried to smile, but inside she was breaking apart. It was stupid that within four days this kid had worked his way into her heart, but somehow he had. Not to mention that Rafael looked as if he’d been run over by a train. Twice. And for whatever reason, that hit her just as hard.
“You’re welcome. Now, do you have any more questions before I send in the nurse?”
“No—”
Vivian cut off Rafael. “Actually, yes. Have the police been called?”
“They have. They came by and took a report, then said to phone them after he’s conscious.”
“Do you have a card or something with their names on it?”
“It’s at the nurses’ station. I’ll have someone write the information down for you.”
The doctor answered a few more questions before taking her leave. As the door swung shut behind her, Rafael collapsed into the chair by Diego’s bed. “I’m going to find out who did this to him. And they’re going to regret it,” he growled.
His words had alarm coursing through her. Crouching down next to him, she laid a hand on his knee. “Rafael, we’ll figure out what happened to Diego and why once he wakes up. You won’t do him any good if you go off half-cocked.”
Rafael snorted. “I’m not doing him any good now. Look at him, Vivian. Maybe you don’t know what all the bruising and broken bones are a result of, but I’ve been around this kind of thing most of my life. He wasn’t given this good old-fashioned beat down for no reason. Someone was delivering a warning.”
“A warning?” She recoiled at the vehemence in his voice. “What kind of warning?”
“The kind that says shut up and take your punishment like a man, or this ass-kicking will be the least of your problems.”
Her mind was spinning in circles as she stared at Rafael in dawning horror. “What are you saying?”
“I’m saying the timing of this attack is damn suspicious. Either someone bided his time after Diego got arrested, or all those news reports talking about your firm taking on Diego’s case got somebody nervous.” Rafael eyed her grimly. “Guess which option I think is the right one?”
“This is about me helping Diego? How can you be so sure of that? Maybe it was just a random thing, like what happened to me the other night.”
“Diego knows these streets, and he knows how to protect himself. It would take more than one or two guys to mess him up this much.” He looked at Diego and shook his head. “No, this kind of beating is done for a very specific reason. And call me suspicious, but I think whoever did it was trying to convince Diego to roll over and take the fall for a crime he didn’t commit. Or else.”
RAFAEL HUNG UP his cell phone and stuffed it back in his pocket with a muffled curse. Nothing today was going the way he’d hoped it would, and it was beginning to seriously piss him off.
“Don’t worry about anything,” he muttered to Diego. “I’ll get all this figured out—I promise you that much.”
“Hey, w
hat happened?” Vivian asked as she came through the doorway, a cup of coffee in each hand. “You look worse than when I left.”
“I just talked to Diego’s father. The guy’s been useless since his wife died of cancer a few years ago, but I thought knowing that Diego needed him would somehow get him motivated.”
She handed him a cup, then sat down in the next chair. “I take it things didn’t work out the way you’d hoped.”
“Not by a long shot.” Rafa glanced at Diego, then lowered his voice—who knew how much the kid could actually hear? The doctor said the drugs had him completely knocked out, but Rafael wasn’t taking any chances.
“He basically said that he didn’t give a damn about his son, that Diego was a murderer who deserved what he got.”
“My God.”
“Yeah. That’s pretty much what I was thinking.”
He’d known when he’d called Diego’s father that the old man probably wouldn’t be too broken up about what had happened to his son, but he hadn’t cared at all. The only thing he’d gotten worked up about at all was making sure Rafael knew he wouldn’t be responsible for the hospital bills.
“What am I supposed to tell Diego when he wakes up? That his father didn’t care enough about him to ask how he was doing, let alone put down his bottle and come to the hospital?”
“Don’t tell him anything unless he asks. Diego’s a smart kid—I’m sure he knows where his dad stands.”
“I know.” Rafael rubbed his hands over his eyes as weariness set in. “It’s just that this kid can’t catch a break. He’s been living in hell for nine weeks, and every time I think we’re making some progress, things just get worse. I don’t even know what to do now, how to help him.”
The thought made Rafa nauseous enough that for a minute he was afraid he was going to puke all over his favorite pair of Doc Martins. Bending over slightly, he braced his hands on his knees and struggled for control.
It took a few seconds, as every instinct he had was screaming at him to find who had done this and tear them apart.