by Nicole Helm
But this was her dad. He wasn’t evil. Just sick. He’s sick. “Dad, you’re scaring me.” Even though she wanted to shrink away, run away, she stepped toward him.
No response. No warning. Then suddenly something hard bashing into her cheek. So hard she fell to the ground, dizzy and out of sorts, her keys flying out of her hand and smashing into something that sounded as if it broke. Pain radiated from her jaw all the way up her skull. She couldn’t hear anything over the weird ringing in her ears; her vision was dim.
She tried to speak but nothing came out. She had to struggle to get a breath in. To try and think what to do next. Things were kind of blurry, but she was pretty sure that was blood dripping into her eye.
Blood.
He’d hit her with something. Viciously. Violently. Premeditated.
“I’m so sorry, Tessie.” Suddenly she realized he was crying, and even in the dark she could make out his shadow coming toward her. “I don’t know why...why do you make me do these things? Why?”
He kept moving toward her and she scooted away, shaking so hard she could barely accomplish it, but she had to get away from him. She had to get—
She stopped and pulled her gun out. She left the safety on until she could get her shaking under control, but she held it toward him.
“D-don’t get any c-closer.”
“Tessie. It was a mistake. I was just so angry. You made me so angry with all that treatment bullshit. Everything is so bad and it wouldn’t be if she was here. If you’d never been born. Why’d you ruin it all, Tessie?”
“Please. Please stop. Stay away.” She edged around him. She needed to get out of here. She needed to call Marc.
Oh, God, Marc. He... She couldn’t think about that right now. She scooted herself to the door, managed to wobble to her feet.
“Don’t go, Tessie. I need you. I’m sorry. I didn’t mean it.”
The anger was as vicious as the pain in her face, because he’d done this. Maliciously. He’d done this to hurt and punish her. So he had meant it, and she’d never talk herself out of that simple fact. “Go to hell, Dad.”
She wrenched the door open and managed to get outside. Her legs weren’t steady, and she was dizzy, but she managed to propel herself to the side of the building, behind a bush, where she could hide from any unwanted attention until she could figure out what to do without her keys.
At least she had her phone.
Oh, Marc was... He was not going to take this well, but in the battle of lesser evils—Marc or the department coming—she’d go with Marc.
He might be angry. He might even tell her he’d told her so. But at least it wouldn’t ruin the rest of her career. She’d certainly lose a good portion of the respect she’d earned in the department if they saw what she allowed to happen.
Once she could get her shaky fingers to cooperate, she dialed his number. He answered before the first ring was even done.
“Everything okay?”
“Um...” No, not even a little bit, and there was no way she could hide it from him. Not after the blow Dad had inflicted. She didn’t even know what he’d hit her with, but it had been big. And hard.
“Tess, are you hurt?”
She squeezed her eyes shut, which hurt so damn bad it caused even more tears. “N-no,” she whispered.
“Tess. Please.”
“Okay, I—I may be a little hurt.”
He made some noise, but it was too far away from the receiver for her to make out what it was. “I’m on my way. I’m calling Stumpf.”
“No—”
“It’s already done. Stay safe. I’m on my way. Stay safe, please, for the love of God, just keep yourself out of his way. Christ. Tell me you’re okay.”
“I’m okay. I am. I really am. I’m out. Please don’t worry.”
Another noise away from the receiver. Possibly cursing or yelling. Something he didn’t want her to hear, which made her want to cry harder.
“I love you. I’m going to call the department and then I’m going to call you right back. Okay?”
“Okay.”
“And you’re safe.”
“I’m safe. I’m okay. And I’m sor—”
“Not on your life, Camden. Don’t say that to me right now.”
“I love you.”
“That works. Now give me a few minutes, that’s it, and then I’m calling right back.”
Tess leaned against the aging, smelly concrete of the side of the building, one hand resting on her gun, the other clutching the phone. Her face ached and burned. If nothing was broken she’d be lucky.
Unfortunately, it wasn’t just bones she was worried about being broken.
* * *
MARC HAD ONLY ever driven this fast when running code in his patrol car. Never in his own vehicle. But how could he not break every law to get to her as soon as humanly possible?
Luckily Bluff City at three in the morning wasn’t that difficult to speed through, and he pulled into her father’s apartment complex not too long after he’d hung up with her the second time.
Long enough. Damn it, where was Stumpf? Or someone from BCPD. Damn it. Damn it. Damn it. Where was Tess?
He hopped out of his truck. “Tess?” He didn’t see her anywhere. If she’d gone back in there... If her father had...
“Tess?” he shouted. He didn’t give a rat’s ass that people were sleeping, he needed to—
“Marc. I’m right here.” She stepped around a bush, just a shadow. A tentative shadow.
He rushed over to her. “Where are you hurt? What did he do?”
She walked carefully, but she wasn’t limping or holding her arm or anything to indicate she might be hurt. He pulled out the flashlight he’d had the foresight to grab from his glove compartment.
She winced against the light, and there was blood. “Tess.” He gently turned her face and— “Jesus Christ.” There was blood. Something had scratched up her face, and her cheek was swollen, as was a spot by her temple.
His eyes burned as he tried to think of what to do. “We have to get you to the hospital.” He didn’t know what to do. Where was Stumpf? He should let Stumpf take care of it, but fuck that. “I’m taking you to the hospital. Stumpf can talk to you there. I’ll call him once we get you inside.”
“Marc.”
He gingerly moved his arm around her shoulders and began leading her toward the car.
“I don’t want to go to the hospital.”
“I know. I know, honey, but you have to.” Everything inside him felt like gelatin. He was having a hard time finding the strength to walk, let alone hold her up. Her face looked terrible. Awful.
And he’d let her... And she’d made him...
He forced himself to take a breath, to find some center of calm and steady. He needed to be her calm and steady.
Finally, Marc heard sirens in the distance.
“I don’t want to talk to him.” She stumbled, but Marc managed to keep her upright.
“You have to press charges.”
She glanced back at the building.
“Tess. This is not a choice. Have you seen your face? Do you see what he did to you?”
“I know. I know. It was wrong.” But she was still looking at the apartment, not at him, taking slow, painful steps away. “He’s my father,” she said weakly.
“Tess, look at me, please.”
She did. Her eyes were kind of glazed and she wasn’t steady. She was definitely more hurt than she let on. It was hard to get the next words out with a ball of emotion lodged so deeply in his throat, but he had to say it.
“You cannot let this continue. You know you can’t.” Gently, just the lightest of touches, he put his palm to the cheek that hadn’t been pulverized. “Tess, please tell me you unde
rstand that. You have to see this kind of thing too much not to see what he’s doing.”
She leaned into him. “I just want to go home.”
“I know, baby. I know.” He held her as tightly as he could without hurting her cheek. The cruiser pulled up, and if he hadn’t spent the entire drive over here all but screaming obscenities, he might have been tempted to let a few more loose.
Because when Stumpf stepped out of the cruiser, he wasn’t alone. He was with Granger.
CHAPTER NINETEEN
TESS COULD TELL by the way Marc stiffened that something was wrong. She wasn’t sure she had it in her for any more wrong. She wasn’t sure she had it in her for...anything.
Marc was right. She’d had to pull a gun on her father to feel safe. He’d attacked her, completely on purpose, no matter how apologetic he’d been afterward.
She absolutely needed to press charges. But...
Why was that but in her brain? What was wrong with her? What was wrong with her that deep in the recesses of her brain—or her heart, maybe—she felt as though she was to blame?
“Santino.”
Tess tensed too at the sound of Granger’s voice. Marc was holding her. It was the middle of the night. And oh, shit.
She needed to pull away. To get it all together. To be Officer Camden. It wasn’t as though she’d never had someone try and attack her before. A few incidents during arrests. Men who’d taken swings at her—a few times they’d even connected. This was not new. This wasn’t something she couldn’t handle, because she’d handled it before.
Strong. Alone. No big shoulders to lean on, no comforting arms to hold her.
But those were arrests. Strangers. Criminals. Not her father.
“I can’t do this,” she whispered into Marc’s chest. She didn’t know if he heard her or if it mattered. She didn’t know...
God, she just wanted to sleep. She wanted to do anything but face her coworkers with her own failings. All of them. Dad. Marc. All the ways she’d tried to be strong, and now she was the weak victim crying on a man’s shoulder. Letting him make her feel safe.
“Isn’t this cozy.”
That pissed her off enough to pull away from Marc, to make sure Granger could see the blood on her cheek. “Yeah, my face feels really fucking cozy.”
Granger had the good sense to look shamed, to look away. To keep his big asshole mouth shut.
“What happened, Camden?”
“She needs a hospital.” Marc’s arm remained around her shoulder and he started ushering her toward his truck.
Stumpf nodded, and while his gaze between her and Marc was considering, he didn’t say anything.
Wow, she must really look bad.
She hated this feeling of three men dictating what she was doing, but her brain still felt rattled. Everything felt wrong, and regardless of whether they were men or aliens, it felt good to have someone else deal with the consequences for once.
Stumpf cleared his throat. “We should probably drive her, Santino. That way I can take her statement in the car and—”
“Tess?”
She didn’t look at Marc, partially because her face was throbbing and she didn’t want to move it, but more because she didn’t want to see his face. Or anyone’s.
“I don’t care.” And she didn’t. She didn’t care about anything, because what the hell was left? She’d failed Dad so spectacularly, and he’d failed her to the point she didn’t know how she’d ever go back.
And Stumpf and Granger weren’t morons. They were putting two and two together. Her and Marc.
What the fuck was left?
“I just want to go home. If something was broken, I’d notice by now.” Finally she forced herself to look up at Marc, because she wasn’t going to look at Granger, and she was afraid Stumpf would look at her with pity.
She wasn’t 100 percent sure what she’d find on Marc’s face, but it wasn’t Granger’s bullshit and she highly doubted it’d be pity. “Please take me home.”
He swallowed visibly, the conflicting emotions and the sheen to his eyes evident now that they were under the weak parking-lot lights. He touched her good cheek. “You could need stitches.”
Marc cared. Really cared, not because she was a woman or a victim. He cared about her, and, well, if situations were reversed, she’d be doing the same thing.
She’d want him to be okay and safe and cared for. So she wanted to go home, and she wanted Marc to take her there.
She flicked a glance at Stumpf, who was looking elsewhere. Good man. She didn’t dare look to see what Granger was doing. “I really don’t think I need a hospital. It’s some bruising and a few scratches. It’ll heal. Stumpf, I’ll give you a statement and then I’m going home before you go in there. Everyone understand?”
If she weren’t exhausted and in a hell of a lot of pain, she’d be disgusted Stumpf looked at Marc. As though Marc got to make the decision. Just because he was a man.
But he was a man who cared about her, and for tonight, she was going to let that be something. She needed something.
“Let’s get this shit over with, huh?” She motioned to Stumpf. “Get out your notebook. I don’t want to stand around here all night.”
Slowly, with another look at Marc, Stumpf pulled out his notebook and began to write.
* * *
MARC GLANCED AT Tess in the passenger seat. Her eyes were closed and she held an ice pack from his first-aid kit to her face. She hadn’t said anything since Stumpf had told her he didn’t need any other information and she’d offered a thank-you before climbing in his truck.
She’d wanted to leave before they arrested her father. So he’d driven her away. Marc felt as if he was wading through a big pile of doing it all wrong. He should have gone with her. He should have made her go to the hospital. He should have done a million things.
Instead, she was slumped in his passenger seat, as defeated as he’d ever seen her. When he pulled to a stop in the parking lot, her eyes blinked open. Her sigh filled the interior.
“Do you think you could have a concussion?” he asked, tentatively, because he didn’t know what questions he had a right to ask. Which questions wouldn’t hurt her even more. The last thing he wanted to do was add more hurt to the pile weighing her down.
She pulled the handle and pushed the door open. “No. I’m fine.”
He had to grind his teeth to keep from asking her what her father had hit her with. Stumpf had already been over it and she said she didn’t know because it had been dark. And he’d already asked her, twice, if she’d lost consciousness.
No and no. He knew he needed to back off. He could see it in the careful way she held herself so he wouldn’t offer an arm, a shoulder. She didn’t want to lean on him. She wanted to stand on her own two feet.
It was killing him.
But this wasn’t about him, so he needed to find a way to breathe through all the tension and helplessness coiling around his lungs.
She leaned heavily on the railing as they walked up the stairs. He stayed behind her, just to make sure...
Hell if he knew. Hell if he knew anything anymore.
They reached their flight and she reached into her pocket. “Shit. I forgot. My keys...they’re back at my...at his place.”
“Do you need anything from your apartment?”
She shook her head. “I guess not.”
He wordlessly unlocked his door, stepped inside, and she followed. He bolted the locks behind her and then they both stood there.
“You must be exhausted.”
She nodded, then winced. He swallowed down the urge to insist she go to the hospital. In reality, she was right. She’d be in a lot more pain if she’d broken something, and with her face cleaned up and the ice pack doing its work, the scratches
looked minimal. But it was still awful. Just downright horrific.
“I’ll go get you some ibuprofen. And some new ice. I’ll—”
“You don’t need to nurse me. It’s more of a shock than anything else.”
She obviously hadn’t looked at herself in the mirror yet. She obviously didn’t understand how much damage had been done. He had to resist the urge to shake that weary acceptance out of her, to get it through to her that nothing that had happened was okay. Not one second of it. “It’s more than that, Tess.”
She swallowed. “I can’t process it all right now. It’s too much. Can we not talk about it?”
“Go lie down. I’ll be right in.” She needed some new ice. Some painkillers. She needed...everything, and he was going to do his best to give it to her.
She didn’t move at first, instead watched him march to the kitchen. But as he started getting things together, she finally disappeared into the hall.
He took a minute to breathe. Breathe through all the emotions making that normal instinct hard. He couldn’t remember the last time he’d been so close to tears. Maybe after Leah’s transplant. He’d only been fifteen, but the relief she’d come out on the other side okay...he’d cried in his bed that night.
Alone. Because he hadn’t wanted to cry in front of his parents at the hospital, even though they had been crying. He’d wanted to be strong.
He needed to find that same strength here. Be the strength she needed. He was good at that. Coming in second and cleaning up the messes. She was worth it. She needed it. He had to be that for her.
But it didn’t feel second nature right now. It felt hard-won. He filled a glass with water, pulled out a bottle of ibuprofen and a pack of frozen vegetables from the freezer. He took a deep breath, and he walked to his bedroom determined to be every last inch of what she needed.
As though his whole life had been practice for this moment, and if that was the case, maybe it was worth it.
Tess had lain down on the bed, though not under the covers. Her shoes were still on and she lay on her side, the unharmed side of her face buried in one of his pillows.