Heartbreakers and Heroes

by Box Set

  He called Trinity during his drive. It was two a.m., but someone was up in her house if the neighbors heard yelling. She didn’t answer which made him even more anxious. She should know that he’d hear about any incident involving her family and the police again.

  By the time he’d arrived, Dawson was standing at the front door with Mr. Estrada. The situation felt under control, but Griffin needed to see Trinity to quiet his anxiety. The noise level was normal and the two men seemed engaged in a serious discussion. Was he drunk?

  “Good evening, Officer Dawson, Mr. Estrada. I’m Sergeant Alexander. I met you the other night at the hospital. Everything okay?” He spoke as though he was there on official business, which was only the smallest sliver of the truth.

  Dawson would normally blast him with the evil eye for monitoring his call out, but he cocked a brow in Griffin’s direction and then shook his head. He wouldn’t raise a stink in front of Estrada.

  “Seems the television was too loud,” Dawson said.

  Estrada just stood there, his hands in his pockets, leaning against the doorframe.

  “You don’t mind if I speak to your wife and daughter?” Griffin asked.

  “They’re sleeping.” That was not the answer he wanted. Estrada’s composure fractured at Griffin’s attempt to gain access to the house. Perhaps it was the late hour, but most likely it was the beer Griffin could smell on his breath.

  “Dawson, can you contact the second in command?”

  “Sure thing.” Dawson stepped back to make the call. Trinity was always referred to as the second in command at the diner, because if Francisco wasn’t there, Trinity called the shots.

  When he returned, he shook his head. “I’ll head over to question the neighbor.”

  Shit. Where was Trinity?

  Griffin stepped forward, trying his hardest to be a sergeant and not a pissed off lover. “If you don’t mind, I’d like to check on the safety of your wife.”

  “My wife?” Estrada, his focus somewhere else, couldn’t hold one position for longer than a few seconds before shifting his feet for better balance.

  “She was pretty ill last time I saw her. If she’s fine, I’ll be on my way.”

  Estrada took the bait. He backed away from the door and walked into the living room. “Go ahead. She’s sleeping.”

  “That’s fine. I’ll be quiet.”

  The only light came from the television set, an eerie glow that made Mrs. Estrada’s face turn blue and then yellow every few seconds. Griffin knelt down beside her. She was breathing well, and she seemed fairly comfortable for being placed on the couch after a hospital stay. Trinity wasn’t in sight. He wouldn’t push it. Yet. There were no broken things in his line of vision. Nothing that seemed out of place in the quaint country decor, except three beer bottles grouped together on the end table.

  “See. Told you she was fine.”

  Griffin stood and remained next to the couch. His hands rested behind his back. An official, but non-confrontational posture.

  “How is your wife doing after the hospital stay?” He wanted to keep him talking until he could find Trinity.

  “Good.” Estrada’s chin lifted an iota, enough to shift him off balance again.

  “That’s great. And you said your daughter was home?”

  At that moment, Dawson knocked on the door and entered. He glanced between Griffin and Estrada with a frown and one eyebrow raised. “I spoke to your neighbor. They were concerned with the increased noise level.”’

  “Everything’s fine here. I told you it was the television.” Estrada’s hands tapped together. He swayed a bit to the left, but remained standing.

  “Neighbors looking out for each other is a good thing.” Griffin was now ready to push through the house in order to find Trinity.

  “We’re all fine. Thank you.” Estrada was growing restless. The last thing they needed was to leave him upset.

  Griffin started coughing. Straining the back of his throat with each exhalation, his coughs went from forced to instinctual. The coughing continued until he had tears in his eyes.

  “Sarge? You okay? Sarge?” Dawson struck him on the back a few times. “Can you breathe?”

  Griffin nodded, but kept coughing. Estrada stood wide-eyed and useless until Dawson pushed the guy for a glass of water. He finally made his move to the kitchen with Dawson right on his tail.

  Griffin coughed a few extra times and then sprinted up the stairs. “Trinity?”

  He opened the two bedroom doors that he had no right to open, but both rooms were empty. The bathroom door was already open so he quickly inspected it. Nothing. Where the hell was she? Descending two stairs at a time as silent as possible, he immediately began coughing again when his feet planted in the living room. Mrs. Estrada must have been on some serious medication, because she never budged through all the commotion. Her comatose body only made Griffin’s worry over Trinity increase.

  Estrada returned with a glass of water and handed it to him. “It’s time for you to go.”

  Not quite. Griffin swallowed the water to soothe his now sore throat. He held the glass and waited a moment to take another sip.

  “Sarge, guess who I have? Trinity from the diner. What a coincidence,” Dawson called out from the kitchen. “Come in here and say hello.”

  Griffin almost glanced toward Estrada for his reaction. Instead, he ignored him and strode into the kitchen. For a moment, his panic subsided. Trinity was sitting at the table with a textbook and a laptop in front of her. A fucking gash was bleeding on her forehead. Anger, fear, and need mingled in those eyes of hers. If Estrada did this to her, Griffin wanted to rip the guy limb from limb.

  “What happened to you?” Griffin clasped her unwilling hand while he examined the wound. A large black and blue mark had formed into an egg with blood seeping from broken skin on the edge of it. She’d obviously cleaned it up, but it was a nasty cut.

  “I’m fine. It was just an accident.” Her insistence gave away her lie. This was no accident.

  Estrada was now standing in the door, but Griffin didn’t care.

  “Did anyone hurt you? Tell me now, and no one will ever hurt you again,” he said, begging her to let him arrest her father.

  “It’s not like that. I told you, it was an accident.” Her words were decisive in their dishonesty.

  “Tell me specifically what happened. You know what? Wait here.” He went over to Dawson. “Take his statement on this accident. They better be telling the exact same story.”

  “If you’ll come with me for a moment, I’d like to ask you a few questions.” Dawson indicated for Estrada to follow him back to the living room.

  Estrada appeared as though he wasn’t going anywhere while a police officer questioned his daughter. “Mira lo que dices,” he said to her.

  Griffin didn’t need his two years of high school Spanish to understand Estrada’s warning to watch what she said.

  Trinity didn’t react, just stared at her father as he was led from the room by Dawson. When the door closed, the fear turned to fire. “What are you doing? I told you it was an accident.”

  “Then what was the screaming that caused your neighbors to call us?”

  “My father was mad because of the accident. He’s vocal in his anger. That’s not a crime.”

  So the father had lied about the television being too loud.

  A battle between them wouldn’t get Griffin the answers he needed, so he concentrated on the facts. “What happened?” he asked through clenched teeth.

  “I tripped. My tea flung out of my hand and hit me in the head.”

  “A tea cup hit you in the head? Let me see it.”

  “Why are you being such an asshole? Don’t you trust me?”

  No. He knew to the bottom of his soul she was lying to him. It was the same shit his mother had told people when they saw bruises all over her, or when his father had broken her leg. “You might have a concussion. Please let me see what hit you.” The words came out stra
ngled.

  She shrugged. Going to the trash can, she reached in and pulled four pieces of a white coffee mug with a Phillies decal on it. There was blood on one of the pieces. He took it from her, his stomach so tight, he could barely breathe.

  It would not have broken in four pieces unless someone threw it at her with the speed of a baseball. He walked over to the trash, but subtly pocketed the pieces to look at them later. “You need to go to the hospital. This could be way more serious than just a bump on the head.”

  “I’ll be fine, Sergeant.” She crossed her arms in front of her chest. “You should go. I have a long day of classes and work tomorrow.”

  He couldn’t believe she was so damn stubborn and clearly lying to protect her fucking abusive father. He stepped toward her, but his movements were halted by the dark glare she gave him. “Tell me you’ll go to the hospital.”

  “I can’t.”

  “I wish you’d trust me,” he replied.

  Her hand brushed over the cut on her forehead. “I don’t trust anyone.”

  The words sucker punched him. What he’d thought was a developing relationship was a one-night stand. Not even a friendship.

  Chapter 6

  The headache that pounded Trinity’s head was nothing compared to the pain stabbing her heart. Why would Griffin cause so much trouble for her? Didn’t he know she wasn’t going to have her father arrested? Her family needed to stick together for the sake of her mother. She had everything working well. Her father watched her mother in the day, and she took care of her at night. There wasn’t enough money for a better alternative. And Mama had been so happy to be home. She even had a moment of clarity when she recognized her daughter and gave her a hug that afternoon. Trinity hadn’t felt that love in so long.

  She sat through class, but didn’t take in anything the professor was saying. Instead, she focused on Griffin and her mother and weighed their importance in her life. Mama won, because she was unable to care for herself. She needed her daughter even if she didn’t recognize her. Her father, on the other hand, didn’t need anything from Trinity. He’d overreacted about her absence from home while her mother had been in the hospital. At least he had no idea where she’d actually stayed. That might have resulted in something larger than a mug thrown at her head.

  By four o’clock, her ailments swapped positions. Her headache took over, leaving her heart to fend for itself for a while. She should have called out of work today, but she really needed the money.

  Alice started in on her the second she entered the building. “Are you okay? I heard you took on a coffee mug and lost.”

  “It’s not the first dish that’s attacked me and probably won’t be the last. Last month, a large dinner plate bruised my big toe near the register. I’ve even had a wayward spoon cut my chin once.” She had to throw as much humor and lightheartedness into her responses, or they’d catch on. They probably already had. This group of civil servants had all been trained to look through the bullshit stated by the general public. They’d easily know she’d lied if they questioned her too deeply.

  Even so, she couldn’t let her guard down. Her mother needed her and Trinity needed to finish her degree so she’d have more options with her life. It wouldn’t be easy, but she only had a few more classes. They’d all make it and then everything would be so much better. Her father would stop drinking, and her mother would get better treatment and be able to smile at her daughter again.

  “Maybe being a waitress isn’t a good fit for you.”

  “Give me a few more classes, and I’ll move from waitress to customer. I hope to get a great paying job after graduation.”

  “I thought you wanted to go to medical school.” Alice had also indicated an interest in medical school, but after two kids and a husband out on disability, she couldn’t afford the time off or the tuition.

  “I’ll need to work a little to get the money.”

  “Money sucks.”

  “Yep.”

  “Let me look at the bruise.” She didn’t wait for consent. Instead, she moved Trinity’s hair, pulled at the bandage, and examined the wound as though they were in a medical office. When Alice touched her forehead, Trinity flinched back, the pain sparking across her face.

  “It’s too late for stitches. Why didn’t you go earlier?”

  “I couldn’t.”

  “You should have that checked out.”

  “I’d be at the hospital all night.” She shook her head. Her father would be gearing up to leave for the bar soon, and she needed to be available for her mother.

  Alice sighed. “You’re not as stubborn as I am, Estrada.” She walked over to the opening into the kitchen. “Francisco, Trinity needs to go to the ER, right now. The woman is a walking health code violation.”

  Francisco, the traitor, lifted his head up from the grill and nodded. “Can’t have that. They’ll shut me down. Brenda and Greg can pick up the slack. Go ahead. This is paid sick leave.”

  The bell on the door jingled, and Trinity turned to see the last person she wanted a conversation with, but Griffin, out of uniform, headed in her direction anyway. He looked concerned for her welfare.

  How could she be mad at him for giving a damn? Wasn’t that the type of man she’d always dreamed about? Someone who would care about her, not as an income source, but as a person. Yet, she couldn’t let him arrest her father. Not now.

  “Are you feeling okay?” The concern made her anger at his accusations about her father fade a bit. He was right about him, but her mother needed help and her father was the only one able to watch her while Trinity went to school and worked.

  “I’m doing great. Thanks.” She turned to leave so she didn’t have to answer his questions, but he shifted around her and blocked her in at the counter. It wasn’t confrontational as much as that instinctive maneuver a mother does when breaking a car and throwing her arm out in front of her child.

  “Can I speak to you for a minute?”

  “I don’t have a minute. Apparently, I’m being forced to go to the ER.” She ducked under his arm and headed to a table with a group of men to settle their check before she left for the night.

  “I’ll drive you.” He touched her arm in what seemed like a friendly gesture, but his touch was electric to her. “Please.”

  “Fine.” She left for the kitchen to avoid any follow-up conversations with the rest of the patrons.

  She grabbed her coat and backpack from the supply room and saw Francisco headed in her direction. She was the most popular girl in the place tonight.

  “Are you okay with me leaving right now?” she asked.

  “I’ve handled more customers than this alone, we’ll be fine. Go take care of yourself.”

  She nodded. “Thanks. I’ll be back tomorrow.”

  “Believe it or not, I’ll be happy the day you arrive as a customer and not a waitress. You’re too smart to be stranded in a job that doesn’t push your intelligence. I heard about the police at your place last night.”

  “Everyone has.”

  “You want to talk about it? I can help if you need anything.” A genuine offer of assistance stirred with a touch of hope at something that would never happen between them.

  “Thanks, but I have too much help right now. Griffin has decided to be my bodyguard.”

  Although Francisco wanted a bigger role in her life, it was time to cut off any further aspirations. Hopefully, in time, he’d find someone perfect for him. In the process of his slow nod of agreement, his expression changed from strained to acceptance. “I’m glad. You’re the most stubborn woman I know, and if he can keep you safe, I’m with him one hundred percent.” He patted her shoulder. “Go ahead. I’ll finish up tonight.”

  Griffin waited for her in the front of the diner, talking to everyone but glancing back to the kitchen every few seconds. He was focused, and serious, and so dangerous to her plans.

  “Thanks, boss.” She gave Francisco a warm hug and rested her head on his shoulder for a mom
ent before heading out with the man who had arrived in her life one year too early.

  ***

  Griffin didn’t want to be angry at Trinity, but she was a fool and he was in love with her. He’d held back his temper after seeing the black and blue marks from the impact of the mug. But he was furious she’d lied to him. He had someone in CSI look over the mug fragments. It hadn’t been tossed in the air. It had been rocketed into her skull. Throwing things seemed like Estrada’s favorite method of anger management. What projectile would be next? A chair?

  At least she had the good sense to finally get medical help.

  The silence remained between them for the first mile.

  “What made you decide to finally go to the hospital?”

  “Alice threatened to shut down the diner because of my wound, which isn’t even that bad now. Francisco agreed to give me the night off.”

  “It could be infected. You should have gone last night.” You should have listened to me.

  She crossed her arms and stared out the window. Silence returned.

  “Trinity, I don’t understand why you’re lying to me. There’s no way you could have tripped and flung the mug into the air so that it reached at such a high velocity that it shattered on your skull. I’ve seen so much on my job, but abuse victims protecting their abusers is an almost everyday occurrence.”

  “Why is this so important to you?” She glared at him and bristled at his accusations.

  “That’s the dumbest question I’ve ever heard.”

  “I’m dumb now?” She turned away from him again and stared back out the window.

  “I care about you. I’m also worried that someone is going to hurt you worse than he already did.” Why couldn’t she see the danger of her living at home? “You need to move out to someplace safer.”