A flash of pain crossed her eyes, but she masked it and went to the cupboard to pull out two mugs. "How did you know about the Josefina books?"
"Teresa loved her at that age, too."
"Mari is fascinated by Hispanic history. She was always asking me about her heritage." Savi smiled, but her eyes remained so fucking sad. "Maybe you can fill me in on your family's background, so I can share that with her."
The coffeemaker hissed and gurgled to life. He reached for the coffee pot and filled her mug, as he told her a little about his grandparents who had immigrated from Mexico back in the Thirties. He'd never thought he'd carry on the Orlando name with children of his own. Sometime soon, he wanted to talk with Savi about having Marisol's name changed legally. He was proud to claim what was his.
No chance Savi would ever take his name.
"Have you thought about enrolling Marisol in the Catholic school here?"
"I can't afford it."
"The public schools are good, too, but she's so smart, she may even get a scholarship. Why don't we look into it after New Year's?"
If anyone had told him a few weeks ago that he'd be discussing where to send his daughter to school, he'd have told them they were seriously fucked up or smoking some funky weed.
"In case I haven't said it, I'm glad you're both here, Savi, even under the circumstances." In the short time they'd been here, they'd made his apartment into a home, rather than simply the place where he crashed after work. "I wish you could stay forever."
Savi's hand began to shake so badly, she sloshed coffee onto her chest. He grabbed the mug from her with one hand and placed it on the counter as he pulled her scalding-hot shirt away from her chest with the other. He reached for a paper towel, but waited for the liquid to cool before he let the fabric touch her skin again.
"Did it burn you?"
"Did what burn?"
The fucking hot coffee, that's what. "The coffee you spilled on your shirt."
She looked down at his hands and Damián let go of her T-shirt. He dabbed at her chest to dry her off, his fingers pressing against her firm tits. Fuck, yeah. Too soon, she stepped back and took the towel from him.
"I'll do that."
His dick tried to rise to a full salute in his jeans, and he turned back to the counter to hide his body's response to touching her. He poured his own coffee and to refill her mug.
At the table, he decided to push for more intel. "Why were you wearing a wedding ring when I saw you at the clinic that day with Teresa?"
Savi turned her attention to him and her expression grew steely. He tried to ignore the fact that her nipples protruded against her wet T-shirt, large and inviting. He needed to control himself better.
"So that men wouldn't hit on me."
"Men like me?"
She shrugged and took a sip of her coffee. Fuck. The woman sure knew how to hurt a guy's ego.
"You haven't been in touch with the clinic, have you? I don't want you to leave any breadcrumbs."
"No, there's no reason to contact them."
"I know how much you cared about your clients, so it must have been hard for you to leave them behind."
"I was fired from my job." If she'd told him her best friend had just died, she couldn't have sounded much sadder.
"But you're so good at what you do."
"I got caught up in some…politics. The politicians won."
"Well, I'm sure you could get a job in social work here in Colorado."
"Not that simple. There's state licensing and…"
Realization dawned on him. "Your father's the politician who had you fired."
She glanced down at the table. "No, but he must have had something on the legislator who did. The clinic is funded almost entirely by state and federal grants. The director couldn't afford to lose that money and keep me."
Wanting to provide some comfort, he reached out his hand to her, but she backed away, then stood and took her mug to the sink.
"I told Mari to play with what she'd already opened until we got back. I'm sure she's dying to see what else Santa brought her."
She made her hasty retreat into the living room.
"You might flit from me now, mi mariposa, but you can't evade me forever."
* * *
Savi watched her daughter open another box, still not one of the gifts she'd placed under the tree after Mass last night. Mari would be so disappointed in the inexpensive presents Savi had gotten her, after all these beautiful new ones from Santa. Well, Santa Damián, anyway. At least hers would be seen as Santa gifts, too, albeit much simpler ones.
"Oh, Maman, look! My own Josefina doll!"
The reverent awe in her daughter's voice made it difficult to feel jealous over Damián's ability to buy her such nice things. Of course, Savi had a wrapped Josefina doll in her bedroom closet back home. Mari had wanted one since she was six, but money had always been tight and it wasn't until getting the job at the clinic last summer that Savi had had been able to splurge on something that extravagant. Savi had bought it too long ago to return it, though. She'd have to donate it to the annual toy drive at San Miguel's next year.
A chill ran down her spine. Where would they be next year? Clearly, she couldn't take Mari home as long as her father and Lyle posed a threat. If something happened to Mari—something even one iota like what her father had done to her all those years of captivity—Savi would die.
Sweat broke out on her forehead and her heart began racing. Time to face facts—her life had changed irrevocably. The bastard held too much power in southern California. She needed to think about starting over. Here. In Denver.
Mari picked up one of the packages from the thrift store. Savi held her breath, hoping her daughter would like it as much as the other gifts. When she ripped the paper open and found the black, plush animal, Mari's breath caught in her throat and her eyes grew to the size of saucers.
"A kitty!" She lifted the stuffed animal to her face and rubbed it against her cheek, as if it were a real kitten.
Savi cleared her throat and blinked a few times. Marisol had always had a fondness for kittens and cats. They couldn't have one at the house they rented, but Savi tried to provide her with inanimate ones whenever she could.
Toy ones can't die.
Savi pushed away the stray thought, instead choosing to remember the expression on Mari's face when they were at Marc's outfitter store the day after her visit to the clinic. Her little girl discovered the litter of kittens the store's manager had harbored when a pregnant cat had been abandoned outside the shop. He'd been surprised with four baby kittens a couple weeks before Thanksgiving. Luckily, the kittens were too young then to be separated from their mama, or Savi would have had a problem getting out of the store without one.
Placing the stuffed kitten on one side of her and Josefina on the other, Mari reached for another package from the thrift store. "A Hello Kitty purse!" Mari opened the clasp and started pulling out the dime-store trinkets Savi had stuffed inside. "Look, Maman! Purple nail polish! Can I paint your fingernails?" Mari loved to paint her maman's fingernails and Savi had bought the polish just for that purpose.
"Yes, you may—but let's wait 'til tonight." Of course, Savi would paint her daughter's nails, as well. It was one of the things they enjoyed doing when they vegged out on the sofa on Friday nights. She glanced over at Damián, who smiled back at her.
Why she'd been worried about her inexpensive gifts, she didn't know. Mari had always appreciated anything she'd been given, probably because she, too, remembered those early years when things hadn't been quite so good for Savi while she was in school and first starting to counsel clients. Or maybe because her daughter had been taught about gratitude. Savi had encouraged her to start a gratitude journal as soon as she was able to cut pictures out of magazines. Later she'd learned to use words along with pictures to show what she was grateful for each day.
Savi admitted feeling insecure these days. Her life had been turned upside down with no
sign of righting itself anytime soon. Damián was right. She needed to see about enrolling Mari for classes here in Denver as soon as they got through the holiday break.
"Here, this is for you." Damián held out a long, black-velvet jewelry box to her with a tiny red bow on top.
Savi and Marisol had only baked and decorated cookies for him. They'd agreed no gifts for each other, only for Mari. "Why did you—?"
"Ulterior motives. Go on. Open it first, then I'll explain."
Opening the lid, she saw matching necklaces each with a delicate-looking, filigreed silver whistle hanging from the end of a thin, brown leather cord. There were several unique trinkets of silver, along with a few clear glass beads, dangling from the cord, as well.
She looked up at him. "They're beautiful, but why two?"
He grinned. "One for each of you. You can use the whistle to call for help. There's also a GPS chip in each one. I'm not taking any chance on losing either of you ever again."
His words held a double meaning, but she chose to think he meant the obvious. While her father was a threat, this would give them a little added protection, in case either or both of them needed to be tracked. "These had to have cost a fortune."
Damián shook his head. "De nada, and Marc added the chips for free."
She moved closer to Mari and placed the smaller necklace around her daughter's neck.
"Marisol, anytime you need Daddy to come, you just blow that whistle and I'll be there. You can use it anytime you're scared, too."
Mari put the whistle to her lips and blew. The shrill sound would certainly attract attention. What kind of man gave a GPS tracking necklace? He could have just given her the tracking devices. But the necklaces were beautiful pieces of art and the matching mother-daughter aspect made it an even more special gift.
She looked at Damián and wished she could convey her thanks in a more special way than merely saying the words, but she didn't want him to get the wrong idea if she hugged him or something.
"Thanks, Damián. They're very special. I want you to know I appreciate your taking care of us like this."
He shrugged. "That's what families are for."
Family.
A knock at the door made her jump, instantly putting her on full alert.
Damián stood up. "Now I wonder who that could be?" The theatrical way he asked made it perfectly obvious to Savi he knew exactly who it was. Still, he looked through the peephole before opening the door, reminding her he knew they weren't safe yet here, either.
The door swung open and there stood his friend, Marc, wearing a green elf's hat on his head that matched his eyes, and a big grin on his face. He looked perfectly ridiculous, but didn't seem to mind at all. Beside him was a beautiful Italian woman. Savi wasn't sure if she was his wife or just a girlfriend, but the way his arm was draped around her shoulder, almost possessively, told her they were in a close relationship.
"Merry Christmas!" they said in unison, then laughed.
Marc carried three large, long festively wrapped boxes under his other arm and the woman held a red box with a gold bow on top. She held the box out to Damián. Were there holes cut in the top? "We were on our way to Mama's in Aspen Corners, but we think Santa might have delivered these to the wrong address, so we thought we'd be Santa's elves and get them to you and Marisol first."
"Feliz Navidad. Come in," Damián said, stepping aside.
Marc's hand guided the woman to precede him out of the cold, then introduced Angelina to Savi. "We'll only intrude for a minute or two. Her mama likes to serve Christmas dinner promptly at noon, I hear, and the way she cooks and Angelina's brothers eat, well, we don't want to be late."
Angelina nudged him in the side. "Marc, all you think about is food."
"If you and your mama weren't such good cooks, maybe I'd have more time to think about something else." The look he gave Angelina made Savi uncomfortable.
"Oh, you have no trouble thinking about other things when you want to." The woman's eyes were filled with love when she looked up at him and Savi felt the electricity sparking between the two of them.
Squirming inside, Savi came toward them and reached for the boxes in Marc's hands. "Here, let me take some of those."
He turned to her and grew serious. "Just the top two. The bottom one's too heavy for you with that injured rib."
"Yes, sir." The man certainly had a protective streak in him. Not nearly as strong as Damián's was toward her and Mari, but more than enough to leave her feeling...uneasy, never having been under the protection of strong, yet caring men. She'd hate having a man tell her what to do, as if she were a powerless child.
The boxes she took from Marc were very light. Savi wondered what was inside, then a glance at the box in Damián's hands confirmed her suspicions. A tiny black-and-white paw poked out of the top through one of the holes.
Savi looked at Damián, hoping to get his attention to try and stop this train wreck before it happened. Mari didn't need to get attached to a real kitten. What if something happened to it and her heart was broken?
"You need to learn your lesson for kicking me last night, Savannah. Whiskers is going to the pound today."
The blonde-haired girl began to cry, begging her father not to take away her precious pet. Maman had given her Whiskers as a kitten one Easter when Savannah was only six. The two had been inseparable and she felt closer to Maman whenever Whiskers was in the bed beside her. But last night Savannah had kicked her father as hard as she could to keep him out of her bed. To keep him from hurting her…again.
Savi's hands began to shake. Her face grew warm, then cold, causing her to break out in a clammy sweat. Suddenly, she lost all feeling in her hands and feet. As if the sound reached her ears through a tunnel, she heard the boxes she'd been holding hit the floor, one at a time.
* * *
Damián's gaze zeroed in on Savi's pasty-white face. She stared at the box he held as if she expected all the evils of the world to spew forth when the lid was removed.
"Angelina, hold this." Damián shoved the box back into her hands and gripped Savi's upper arms. He stared into her glazed eyes. "What's wrong, Savi? Does something hurt?" He resisted the urge to shake her. "Look at me, querida." She blinked, then tried to push him away, but he refused to release her.
Her hand went to her throat. "I…can't…breathe."
"Come with me." Damián led her across the room with his arm around her back and eased her onto the center cushion of the couch. "Sit."
Marc sat on her other side and pressed his fingers against her wrist to feel for a pulse. "Inhale slowly, cara."
Savi shook her head, opening her mouth, but nothing came out.
"Maman? Are you sick?"
Marisol's presence seemed to jar her and she shook her head even harder, holding her other hand up to keep her daughter away.
"Come, sweetie," Angelina said. "Show me this awesome log house of yours. I always wanted one like this." Angelina shepherded Marisol toward the tree, but the little girl's eyes didn't leave Savi's face.
Damián went into the kitchen and grabbed a bottle of water from the counter, twisted off the cap, and returned to Savi's side. Her color was still gone. "Querida, drink this." Damián held the bottle to her lips and she drank a few sips. He brushed the hair back from her dampened forehead. "Good girl."
She focused on him and spewed out with great vehemence, "Don't ever call me that again."
"It's just an expression, Savi. I didn't mean anything by it."
"I am nobody's good girl. Never again." Savi closed her eyes tight, as if in pain.
Clearly someone she didn't care for had called her a good girl in the past. Had she been with a Dom, maybe some client she'd had in the hotel?
Marc placed a hand on her arm. "Take a deep breath, cara. Let me make sure you haven't reinjured that rib."
"Maman, look! A real kitty!"
Damián looked over at the tree in time to see a ball of black and white fur scamper out of the bo
x and up the tree.
"No, Daddy!" Savi whispered, a look of horror on her face. "Whiskers can't climb!"
Whiskers? She'd named the kitten already? How'd she known he'd gotten one of the kittens at Marc's store? Still, hearing her call him daddy for the first time in front of his friends did something to him, as if she'd acknowledged his role as Marisol's father publicly.
But when Damián turned toward Savi, he knew instantly she wasn't referring to him, even if they had agreed to let Marisol call him that. Savi had the same blank stare he'd seen on the faces of other veterans at the amputee rehab centers where he'd undergone rehab. Old timers called it the thousand-yard stare. She looked at the tree with unseeing eyes, as if in a trance.
He needed to bring her back. "You're okay, Savi." He reached out and stroked her arm.
Savi blinked, looking from Damián to the tree she tried to regain her bearings. She whispered, "Whiskers was declawed. He couldn't survive out there. He knew that."
"Who knew?"
Savi looked at him with a look of anguish on her face. She brushed Marc's and Damián's hands aside and pushed herself up from the couch with a grimace and a groan. Damn it, if she wasn't careful, she was going to injure herself.
"I need to be alone."
"Savi, stop! Don't run from it."
She shook her head and nearly careened into the wall before she veered through the opening to the bedroom, closing the door behind her with a thud. He glanced at Marc and said in a voice only for his friend's ears, "Keep an eye on Marisol—don't let her go in there."
"Sure thing."
Damián followed Savi, giving a cursory knock before he opened the door. He glanced around the room. No Savi. She must have gone straight into the bathroom. He heard the water from the faucet.
Damián knocked on that door. "You okay in there?"
"I'm fine. Just leave me alone."
Fuck that shit. Savi wasn't fine and he was tired of hearing her say she was while she masked—or blocked—her real feelings. He opened the door to find her curvy ass facing him as she was bent over the sink. She straightened up and turned toward him, holding a washcloth against her cheek and blinked. Her hand still shook.
Nobody's Perfect Page 7