Chapter Four
Back in Melba’s bedroom, Lilí heard the various shuffles, sweeps, and thuds of Diego moving around the main living area, doing his best to pick up the mess. Keeping his distance from her.
Good. She didn’t want to be around him and his moodiness anyway.
Being here, surrounded by the ugliness, was hard enough for Lilí without Diego making it worse.
Except, having him here actually made it better. Made her feel safer.
Ave Maria purísima, the contradictions when it came to Diego Reyes were driving her crazy. Hail Mary, indeed. She needed to pray for clarity of mind.
As it was, she’d spent the past twenty minutes or so rifling through Melba’s drawers, shoving aside Tito’s crap in the closet in search of the various items on Melba’s list. It might have taken less time if Lilí hadn’t frittered some of it away mentally reviewing potential reasons why Diego would be so pissed that Melba wasn’t ready to press charges.
Lilí tugged open a drawer, relieved the see the “Pura Dominicana” T-shirt Melba asked for on top of the far right stack.
It was strange, really. She’d been around enough cops handling domestic violence cases in the past few years that she’d come to expect a lack of understanding on their part when it came to the psychological aspect of her role as a victim’s advocate. At times she’d even witnessed the inability to truly grasp the emotional difficulties DV victims faced. With Diego, though, there was something different.
She couldn’t quite put her finger on it . . . but something told her that this was personal for him. How or why that might be, she’d lost track of the number of guesses she’d tossed aside.
The screech of a metal chair leg against the linoleum floor out in the living room spurred her back to action.
She pulled out the T-shirt, along with several others and a few pairs of shorts. Her fingers itched to grab a trash bag and toss all of Tito’s belongings, but she didn’t. He wasn’t worth the waste of her time.
Instead, she continued checking items off her list. Already Melba’s abuela’s rosary and Bible, a purple terry-cloth robe, and several outfits from the closet were packed in the black duffel bag Lilí had found under the bed. All she needed now were a few items from the bathroom.
Stepping out into the hall, she caught sight of Diego blowing what was probably a few glass shards off a broken picture frame. He placed it on the kitchen table, inadvertently angling it so Lilí could see it was a close-up photo of Melba and a group of other Latina women smiling for the camera. His large hand gently brushed at the paper. Almost like a comforting caress.
That he’d taken the time to try and salvage the photo spoke of a softer side. One he hadn’t shown her that often in the less than twenty-four hours she’d known him.
The thought brought her up short.
Wow, it really had been less than a day since she’d raced from the cab out front, ready to defend Melba, only to be blocked on the steps by Diego. So much had happened. With him and Melba consuming the majority of Lilí’s thoughts.
“You almost done?”
His question brought her out of her stupor.
“Uh, yeah. I only have to grab a few toiletries.”
He nodded, then got back to work straightening up.
Lilí didn’t move toward the bathroom though.
Instead she watched the muscles along the back of his shoulders ripple as he took another swipe at the floor with the broom. The armholes of his gray Chicago Bears tank hung low on his sides, giving her a nice view of his six-pack abs when he bent to reach for the dustpan. A man cleaning the house was a glorious sight to see, especially when he was built like Diego Reyes.
That he’d come to her rescue and the gentle care he took with Melba’s picture. Those gestures attracted Lilí more than his ripped body.
Pues, who was she kidding, his hunkiness was an added bonus. No use denying that. But the peek into the man underneath the badge intrigued her.
“Everything okay?” he asked. His dark brows furrowed, he moved to set the broom aside.
Embarrassed to have been caught staring at him, Lilí rattled off a “Yeah, I’m fine” and scurried into the bathroom.
A short while later the duffel was packed, the items on Melba’s list safely zipped inside. Lilí strolled out of the bedroom, ready to leave.
Diego sat on the sofa armrest, scrolling through something on his cell phone.
“Thanks for waiting,” she said.
“No problem.”
“I mean, I know you’re off duty, so I appreciate you coming over,” she added. “Even though I probably didn’t need—”
“Yeah, you did.” He stood up, snagging the strap of her messenger bag on the torn sofa cushion. “You never know who or what’s lurking around this neighborhood. Here.”
He held her messenger bag out to her, at the same time reaching to lift Melba’s duffel off Lilí’s shoulder with his other hand.
His warm fingers grazed her bare skin. Tingles of awareness skittered from her arm across her chest, moving swiftly to parts of her body that hadn’t seen much action since her breakup with Gregorio over a year ago.
Diego’s hand stilled, trapped between the duffel’s strap and the front of her shoulder.
She cupped his elbow, a magnetic pull drawing her to touch him.
“I’m, bueno, I’m glad you came,” she admitted.
“Me, too.”
His eyes met hers. The gold flecks swimming in the brown depths of his irises burned brighter. Desire, swift and strong, infused her, inciting a hunger she’d never felt before.
His gaze dropped to her mouth. Instinctively she licked her lips. Longing to find out if he’d taste as sinful as he looked.
Her feet took a baby step closer.
His did the same.
Anticipation tightened her chest as his dark head slowly lowered and she—
A loud thwack resounded in the room, startling her.
Diego threw his arms around her in protection. Tucking her head down to his chest, he held her tightly against his body.
They huddled like that for a few tense seconds and she felt Diego craning his head to look around them. Then, with a muttered damn, he dropped his arms from around her.
“¡Coño!” he repeated, “Que estúpido soy!”
“What?” she asked, wondering why he could possibly feel stupid. She’s the one who’d nearly jumped out of her skin.
She peered around his back to see what he pointed at.
A giggle pushed its way up her throat when she caught sight of the plastic broom, lying on the floor beside the flimsy kitchen table Diego had propped it up against.
The glare he gave her over his shoulder made her giggle morph into a laugh. Tinged with a slight touch of hysteria and laced with a thread of relief.
She really needed to get out of this apartment. Between the disturbing scenarios the destruction sparked in her imagination and the tantalizingly distracting man protecting her from wayward brooms, she was a mess of rattled nerves.
Diego bent to pick up the duffel bag and Lilí realized it must have dropped when they’d ducked for cover.
Without a word, she moved to put the broom away in the pantry. The interruption was actually more of a blessing. If not, who knew what foolish act she’d be engaged in right now.
Desire hummed traitorously in her body.
Her ability to make responsible decisions was decidedly off-kilter around this guy. That made it far too easy to give in to the insane urge to run her fingers along the tattoo circling his biceps. Press herself against his hunky body and rise up on her toes for a delicious kiss.
Ave Maria purísima. Lilí closed the pantry door, taking an extra moment to remind herself why getting involved with Diego Reyes, in all his sex-appealing, badge-carrying, machismo-wielding glory, would be absolutely wrong.
One bad breakup with a cop who didn’t understand her commitment to those who sought assistance from her should be enough to warn her away.
“You ready?” Diego asked, standing with one hand on the dead bolt and the other on the security chain.
Ay, she was ready all right. Ready for something that might feel really, really good right now, but would inevitably end badly.
* * *
Motioning for Lilí to stay behind him, Diego peered into the first-floor hallway outside the González apartment. He didn’t want to take any chances.
Once he was confident the area was clear, he gave a brisk nod.
They stepped out and she turned to lock up behind them. He stood facing the main door, his back to her, blocking Lilí from anyone who might enter the building.
He needed to stay on his guard. Unlike those few moments inside when he’d let the wrong head take control.
All he’d meant to do was relieve her of the heavy duffel bag, but the warmth of her smooth skin had seared his hand. Her quick intake of breath seeming to suck the air out of him.
In a snap everything else faded. His gaze had zeroed in on the ripe plumpness of her lips. The flash of desire in her expressive eyes. Blood had pooled low in his body and all he could think about was taking her sassy mouth with his. Dragging her closer to press a moist kiss along the curve of her throat.
Diego’s body tightened and—
¡Carajo! He was doing it again.
Behind him, the dead bolt clicked into place. Lilí moved to his side and he stuck out an arm to keep her from going ahead of him. She gave him the side-eye.
“Can’t be too careful,” he cautioned.
Her lips twisted with displeasure, but she nodded her understanding, keeping a step behind him as they walked toward the exit.
“Any chance Melba will be up for a conversation later today?” he asked, determined to keep his focus on business.
“Depends.”
“On what?”
“On whether by ‘conversation’ you mean an interrogation or an exchange of pleasantries and open-minded questions.”
He scoffed. “Give me a break, I know how to do my job without being an ass.”
“You had a pretty decent he-man act going on yesterday.”
They reached the main door and he stopped, quirking a brow at her interpretation of how things had gone down after Melba had dialed 911.
“What?” she asked. “I call it like I see it.”
“Maybe it’s your Pollyanna do-gooder tendencies that bring out the protector in me, you think?”
She tilted her head, her eyes narrowing as if she actually considered his question.
“Nope,” she finally answered. A self-satisfied smirk curved the corners of her mouth.
“Smart-ass,” he grumbled.
Her chuckle followed him as he led the way out onto the front stoop.
His answering grin faded the moment he caught site of Tito González standing on the sidewalk across the street from them.
For a split second the two of them froze, then Tito took off running.
“Stop!” Diego yelled.
Dropping his sports bag and Melba’s duffel, he jumped down the three steps and raced after Tito.
“What the hell—”
“Wait here!” Diego called back when he heard Lilí’s cry. He dodged a sedan driving by, then looked up in time to see Tito turning the corner to head toward Division Street.
Man, Tito might be short and brutish, but the dude was pretty fast. Once he got on Division, there’d be way more people milling about, making it easier to lose the scumbag.
Anxious to keep that from happening, Diego picked up his pace. The afternoon heat had sweat quickly beading his brow. A drop slid into his left eye, burning, and he swiped at it. Rounding the curve he scanned the busy street for Tito’s red T-shirt.
“Hey! Watch out!”
Up ahead, Tito barreled through two young moms walking with strollers. One teetered on its wheels, the toddler inside screeching in protest.
Diego reached the moms, bending to scoop a stuffed giraffe from the dirt around a tree planted near the curb.
“Everyone okay?” he asked. He handed the toy to the crying toddler, waiting for a nod from both women before racing off again.
“Stop! Police!” Diego called, catching sight of Tito sidestepping around honking cars along Division.
Diego followed him into the street.
Wheels screeched as cars braked. He smacked his palm on the hood of a low-rider Chevy, scowling at the young driver gunning his engine behind the wheel.
“Yo, back off!”
The cry had him swiveling his attention toward the far sidewalk where Tito shoved a teen in low-slung shorts and a black tank, sending the kid sprawling onto the cement. Wild-eyed, Tito grabbed the handlebars of the teen’s bike and hopped onto the seat.
Diego made it across the road in time to see the boy scrambling back to his feet, cradling his left arm in pain and cursing Tito’s mother in Spanish. Fat lot of good that did.
By now Tito had hopped the curb on the ten-speed and merged into the traffic. He swerved around a city bus, giving the finger to a driver who honked in protest when Tito veered into his lane.
Diego skidded to a stop at the kid’s side.
“Chicago PD,” he identified himself in response to the teen’s mutinous glare. When he looked back up, Tito was gone.
Damn it! Diego smacked his fist into his other palm, pissed that the degenerate had gotten away. Again!
“Are you hurt?” he asked, huffing to catch his breath after the unsuccessful footrace.
“The jerk stole my bike!” the kid wailed. Blood oozed from a scrape on his elbow, but he wiped it with the edge of his shirt. “How the hell am I supposed to get my bike back? My mom’s gonna kill me!”
Diego reached for his cell only to remember that his basketball shorts didn’t have pockets, so his phone was tucked into the outside pocket on his sports bag.
“What’s your name?” Diego asked.
“Gui. Guillermo.” The boy added his full name at Diego’s frown.
“You got a phone on you, Guillermo?” Diego asked.
“I’ll call the precinct to have dispatch send over a patrol. That way you can file a report.”
“Shit, a report ain’t gonna do me no good, man! My bike is gone!”
Footsteps slapping against the sidewalk drew closer and Diego glanced up to see Lilí racing toward him, her messenger purse, his sports bag, and Melba’s duffel slung across her shoulders.
Fear blanketed her face. She drew to a stop, a hand slapped over her heart as she gasped for air.
“Are you crazy? Running after Tito like that? You could have gotten hurt!” she cried.
He nearly laughed at her ludicrous outburst. Probably would have if he wasn’t annoyed that she hadn’t followed his order to wait back at the apartment.
“Running after perps like Tito is my job,” he reminded her. “Yours, on the other hand, is not.”
Dropping the two heavy bags to the ground, Lilí jammed her hands onto her trim hips. The scowl she gave him rivaled Guillermo’s.
So much for thinking Tito showing up might scare some sense into her.
Dios lo ayude, por favor. Though Diego wasn’t sure how God could help him when it came to Lilí’s penchant for heading toward danger rather than away from it. She was going to get herself into trouble. And probably drive him bonkers in the process.
* * *
A few hours later, Diego found himself canvassing a two-block radius around Lilí’s condo off West Washington Street. Keeping his eyes peeled for any sign of Tito.
He wasn’t sure if Melba’s husband had figured out who Lilí was or where she lived, but Diego wasn’t taking any chances.
After López and Charles had arrived, two cops Diego knew from the precinct softball team, they’d taken Guillermo’s statement and called in Tito’s description. Lilí had hopped a cab back to the shelter, promising to touch base with Diego to let him know she’d arrived safely.
He’d expected a phone call. A chance to hear her voice again.
Instead, she’d sent a smart-aleck text: Back at the ranch, surrounded by my posse. No bad guys lurking.
Cheeky girl.
In another of her signature moves, she’d rolled her eyes at his lecture about her propensity to dive headfirst into trouble without thinking. His warning about why she shouldn’t follow a cop in pursuit of a suspect had more than likely fallen on deaf ears.
Which led to his current situation: flashing Tito’s last mug shot from his cell phone, asking if anyone had recently seen the short, bald-headed man with colorful tattoo sleeves and the Dominican Republic flag etched on the back of his neck, hanging around the area. So far, from the barista at the corner coffee shop, to the owner of the dry cleaners a block over, to the older couple walking their weiner dog, and anyone else Diego had run into on the street, the answer had been a resounding no.
His final stop was the security desk inside Lilí’s building.
He definitely wanted to make sure Tito was on their radar. It might allow Diego to sleep better.
He approached the gleaming brownstone high-rise and tugged open the heavy beveled-glass door. Cool air greeted him as he stepped inside, the smell of fresh flowers and money in the air. The rubber soles of his sneakers squeaked softly as he crossed the green marble floor in the open vestibule.
He scanned the area, getting a lay of the land, barely containing his whistle of appreciation.
Lilí Fernandez certainly lived in style.
A few years back he’d mistakenly, and briefly, hooked up with a woman in Lilí’s social stratosphere. Ilene had bid the highest in the charity auction he’d agreed to support as part of the precinct’s community outreach. Of course, in his mind support had meant moving tables and chairs, heavy lifting behind the scenes. Not becoming an item up for bid in the “Win an Evening with . . .” beefcake auction.
Man, the jokes and catcalling from the guys in the locker room at work had been never-ending.
Thoughts of Ilene and her misguided attempt at using him to make an ex jealous, faded as Diego pictured Lilí here.
She’d probably blow in off the streets, her long hair up in a perky ponytail that matched her Sassy Sally–Positive Patty personality. Maybe she’d pause to chat with a neighbor in the small sitting area off to the right. Her trim legs tucked under her as she got comfy on the matching small settee or wingback chair. The elaborate glass and muted gold light fixture hanging from the tall ceiling casting a cozy glow on the space.
Or she’d assist an elderly neighbor fumbling for the right key to check the mail in one of the intricately carved wooden mailboxes lining the far left wall, numbers etched on their faces.
Knowing her, she’d greet the tall, gangly, middle-aged man dressed in a crisp white long-sleeved button-down with a black tie and slacks who now rose from behind a curved dark marble counter. The security desk partially blocked the walkway leading to the bank of elevators deeper into the lobby area. There was no getting by anyone posted here. Good.
“May I help you”—the older man’s sharp gaze flicked to Diego’s badge clipped to the waistband of his jeans—“Officer . . . ?”
“Reyes,” Diego said, extending his hand to shake the older man’s long-fingered one. The dude could probably palm a basketball. With his height and the ease with which he moved his long limbs, Diego would be surprised if the security guard hadn’t played a little ball at some point.
Diego fished his cell out of his back jeans pocket, pressing his thumb onto the home pad to unlock the screen. “And you are?”
“Bill Ryan, chief security officer. Is there some kind of problem? I haven’t been notified by any of our tenants.”
“More like, trying to avoid a problem.” Diego held his cell phone up so the security officer could get a good look. “Any chance you’ve seen this man hanging around? Poking his head in here, maybe asking about one of your tenants?”
Bill Ryan took the phone, using his thumb and pointer finger to zoom in on the tiny screen. The close scrutiny he gave the photograph told Diego the man took his job seriously. Perfect.
“No one like that has been through my door. Believe me, I’d remember.”
Relief eased the pinch in Diego’s shoulder blades.
Ryan handed the phone back, then crossed his arms in front of him. “I’m here Monday through Friday from eight to five, but if you send me that, I can check with the other guys. At least one person is at this desk twenty-four-seven, with two men on every shift.”
Ryan leaned back around the counter to snag a business card. “Anything we should be aware of? Or alert our tenants about?”
“I don’t want to alarm anyone else. Just keeping an eye out for one of your tenants. Lilí Fernandez, you happen to know her?”
A grin spread the guard’s lips, lighting his gray eyes and deepening the grooves on the sides of his mouth. “Friendly girl. Grew up in the suburbs, comes from a modest background, so I make sure to ask how city life’s treatin’ her. She’s always asking about my family, checking if I’m doing my PT exercises to ease this ol’ knee pain. Old basketball injury. Loves to talk baseball, that one.”
Of course Lilí had charmed the guy. Diego would bet she had that effect on most people.
“Has she lived here long?” he asked.
“She moved into Jeremy Taylor’s place about, let’s see.” Ryan’s features scrunched into a pensive frown and he brought a knuckle up to his chin as he thought. “Hmm . . . I’d say not quite four years now. Yeah, the summer my youngest headed down to college at U of I.”
“Jeremy Taylor, as in—?” Diego worked to hide his surprise at the name Ryan mentioned.
“Yeah, same Taylor family you’re probably thinking of. Most folks in this city have heard the name. Good people, and believe me, I don’t say that about everyone. Even the younger one the papers like to gossip about. Michael probably plays hard like the papers say, but he’s a good kid. Always respectful and genuine when I run into him.”
Ryan was right. You didn’t hear much about the older brother, Jeremy, he kept out of the spotlight. But Michael Taylor was young, single, and rich. The perfect combination to sweep a pretty girl off her feet.
If Lilí had grown up in the Chicago suburbs and didn’t come from money, maybe her connection to the Taylor family was a romantic one. She didn’t have to worry about not being able to afford the rent here if she’d moved in with her boyfriend. And if she was dating a Taylor, no way would Diego stand a chance with her.
Whoa! He put the brakes on that line of thinking so fast it left skid marks on his brain.
It didn’t matter who Lilí was or was not dating. What mattered was that she not be in harm’s way. Bill Ryan’s frown deepened as if he’d read Diego’s last thought. “What’s that punk with the mug shot have to do with Ms. Fernandez? This about her job down at the abuse clinic? Maybe the guest she had last night?”
The fact that Ryan knew where Lilí worked and the situations that could arise from it, that he was aware Melba had stayed over—they were all signs of the close tabs the security team kept on the comings and goings in their building. Very reassuring.
Diego nodded at the older man. “He was involved in a domestic violence case that could have been uglier than it was. Though, with DV cases like this, there’s always the potential for it to go sideways.”
Ryan’s jaw tensed. The wrinkles in his face deepened with his fierce scowl.
“It’s not certain if he knows where Lilí lives,” Diego continued, “but I don’t want to take any chances. Especially since I’m not completely convinced that she understands the severity of the situation.”
“Sees the good in everyone, doesn’t she?” Ryan shook his head slowly from side to side.
Well, she didn’t seem to have trouble finding fault in him, Diego noted. He kept that thought to himself. Instead, he reached for his wallet to swap out one of his business cards with Ryan’s.
“I’ll shoot you an email with Tito González’s mug shot for you to share with the security staff. If anyone hears something, if you see anything out of the ordinary, call me ASAP. Whether I’m on duty or not, I’ll be here.”
“Will do,” Bill Ryan assured him. “And thanks for looking out for her. Ms. Fernandez is a special lady. I’d hate for anything to happen to her.”
Determination straightened Diego’s shoulders like a steel rod sliding down the center of his back. “That’s not gonna happen. Not as long as I have anything to say about it.”
The older man gave a brisk jerk of his head. Diego reiterated his promise to send the picture, then headed out.
As he stepped onto the sidewalk in front of Lilí’s building he shot a quick glance up at the cloudless July sky. He said a silent hello to his mom, a reminder to himself that once he hadn’t been there for another “special lady”—one who wanted only good for those she cared about.
Just like Lilí Fernandez.
He wasn’t dumb enough to think he could save everyone. Hell, there were countless times he felt like trying to get through to his sister was the same as beating his head against the cement walls on Lower Wacker Drive. But he could damn well do his best to save some.
Even if that meant saving them from themselves.