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, what 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.
Vivian reached over and squeezed his hand. “You’ll figure it all out.”
“I don’t think—”
“You will.” Her voice was soothing, certain. “You’re frantic right now, but give it a little time. Things will get sorted out. They always do.”
He couldn’t help wondering what Vivian’s life was like that she could be so optimistic. Nothing in his own had shown him that this would turn out anything but bad. “You don’t know that, don’t know what a beating like this can do to a body…and a soul.”
“I’m sorry.” Her face was white, her lush lips compressed into a tight line. “I didn’t mean to overstep.”
Rafael grimaced. What was it about this woman that had him making an ass of himself in front of her again and again? Sure, her money and status rubbed him the wrong way, but she’d been nothing but kind to Diego.
“You didn’t. I’m just prickly.”
A little of the tension left her body at his words. “You have every right to be. This is hard stuff you’ve got going on right now. Who wouldn’t be a little freaked out?”
“Diego’s special.” He faced the wall behind the youth’s bed, unable to look at Vivian. “I mean, all the kids at the center are special in their own way. I’ve been working with them, watching them grow, for seven years now—ever since I started the place. But every once in a while a kid comes along who just has the whole package. Smart, funny, compassionate.
“Diego has all that and more despite everything that’s happened to him. He just needs a little help.”
“You’re giving him that help.”
“I don’t know about that. It sure as hell doesn’t look like I’m helping.”
“Of course it does.” She scooted her chair closer, laid a hand just above his knee. “He worships you—I knew that within five minutes of meeting him. And a kid like Diego doesn’t give his loyalty to someone who doesn’t deserve it.”
“Sometimes the world sucks, you know that? It just sucks.”
“Yes, it does.”
Her quick, heartfelt agreement surprised him, had him turning to look at her. She was closer than he thought, so close that he could smell the sweet, dulce de leche smell of her. So close that he could see the silver flecks in her purple eyes.
So close that when she took a deep breath and exhaled slowly, he could feel it.
He couldn’t remember the last time he’d let a woman get this close to him for anything other than sex.
Something shifted between them at the thought, and he found himself really looking at Vivian for the first time. She appeared tired, worn-out, even a little frightened.
He didn’t like seeing her like that, much preferred it when she was matching him taunt for taunt. Reaching out, he traced a gentle finger over the worry lines between her eyes.
She jumped, drew in a startled breath, but she didn’t jerk away, didn’t tell him to keep his hands to himself. Suddenly he wanted, very badly, to kiss her.
“Rafael.” It was his turn to jump, and he turned to find Marie Lopez, the woman who ran his dining hall, standing at the door.
Pulling away from Vivian, he crossed the room, while wondering what the hell had gotten into him.
“Hey, Marie. I’m glad you came.” He leaned down so she could hug him, as she did so many of the kids at the center. She was an older woman, in her late fifties, yet the kids related to her. Loved her, just as she loved them.
“I came as soon as I heard.” She clung to him for a second, then went over to the bed and ran a tender hand over Diego’s battered face. “How is he?”
“Not good.” He told her the details the doctor had relayed to them, watching Marie’s face grow sadder and sadder with each revelation.
When he finished his recitation, she cursed roundly and with a no-holds-barred attitude that had Rafael blinking. He couldn’t believe the words coming out of her mouth, as she was usually the one at the center demanding that the kids watch what they said.
When she finally paused to take a breath, he said, “Jesus, Marie. Where did you learn to talk like that?”
Her look was disgusted. “Where do you think? I’ve listened to you and the kids for how long now?”
“Seven years.”
“Exactly!”
He smiled gently. “Thanks for coming.”
“Where else would I be?” She glanced at Diego. “I’m done with this, Rafael. I’m so done with this senseless violence. What’s wrong with these kids today?”
“This wasn’t Diego’s fault!” Vivian said, her voice indignant as she turned on Marie like an angry she-cat.
The woman didn’t back down, simply glared at Vivian and gave as good as she got. “I never said it was. Who are you, anyway? I’ve never seen you before.” Her expression said she wasn’t impressed.
Vivian stiffened, her eyes narrowing in a way that surprised him. “I’m—”
“This is Vivian Wentworth. She’s Diego’s lawyer.”
Marie didn’t drop her gaze. “Are you any good?” she asked with a sniff of disdain.
“Marie!”
“Yes, I am,” Vivian answered. “I’m very good.”
“You don’t look it.”
Rafael felt his jaw tighten in discomfort at Marie’s easy dismissal of Vivian, especially since it so closely mirrored his own original reaction. He’d felt justified at the time, but watching the same scene play out again, he couldn’t help feeling ashamed of his behavior.
“It’s nearly midnight.” Marie turned toward him. “You should head back to Helping Hands, shut it down for the night. Shawna and Jake are holding the fort, but they have class in the morning.” The two interns were working on their master’s degrees in psychology and had been a godsend to the center for the past few months.
“I don’t want to leave Diego alone—”
“I’ll sit with him tonight. You look exhausted, and mad as hell. Go stretch your legs a little, get some sleep.” She glanced behind her at Diego. “We’ll see you in the morning.”
Before he knew exactly what had happened, Rafael found himself outside of the hospital, staring at his bike. Vivian was beside him and, judging from her face, she was as exhausted as he felt. “Do you want me to drop you home?”
“My car’s at the center.”
“Oh, yeah, that’s right.” He handed her her helmet. “Let’s go then.”
He took it slow, nothing like the headlong rush to the hospital a few hours earlier. But with every mile that passed, he grew more and more aware of Vivian’s soft breasts pressed against his back. They’d rushed out of the center without their coats, and the temperature had steadily dropped in the time they’d been at the hospital. She was shivering a little, and when he took a corner a little faster than he should have, she tightened her arms around him until they were pressed tightly together.
Her could feel her nipples through the thin silk of her shirt, the thin cotton of his, and couldn’t help the rush of blood to his dick. His groan was lost in the wind rushing by them, and he tried to tell himself his reaction was just stress. Just worry. That it was everything and anything but the fact that he enjoyed the feel of Vivian’s arms around him.
Yet he continued to take the curves a little too fast, sped up and weaved around a few cars just to feel her arms tighten around his waist. To feel her press herself more firmly against him.
Goddamn it, what was with him and rich girls with innocent eyes and blackened hearts? God knew after what had happened with Jacquelyn he should have been cured of the obsession. Hell, before Vivian came along he would have sworn he was completely inoculated. And yet here he was, totally turned on and desperate to bury himself inside Vivian, even though he didn’t want to trust her—or anyone else who wasn’t family.
But the fact of the matter was, after their conversation in Diego’s room, everything inside of him was screaming that she was different. That she was better. Of course, that’s what he’d thought about Jacquelyn all those years before, and the only thing trusting her had gotten him was five years behind bars for a rape that had never happened.
The years he’d spent in prison had broken his mama’s heart—and had nearly broken him as well. Every time his parents or siblings visited him, it had grown harder and harder to look them in the eye, until he’d started telling them not to come at all. Not surprisingly, they hadn’t listened, had kept coming every week for five long years.
Despite Jacquelyn’s crazy accusations—designed to get her back in her father’s good graces after he’d caught her sleeping with the help—his family had believed him when he said he was innocent. When he’d finally got out of prison, he’d pledged to himself that he’d never get himself, or his family, stuck in that kind of nightmare again.
Yet here he was, lusting after exactly the wrong kind of woman. Again. Was he ever going to learn?
Rafael gunned the bike’s engine harder than necessary as he whipped into the alley behind the center. Vivian jumped a little behind him, and he ended up feeling like a heel. Just because he’d obviously lost his mind didn’t mean he needed to take it out on her.
Pulling the bike to a stop beside the back door of Helping Hands, he waited for her to unpeel herself from around him before he climbed off the bike. “Come on,” he said, heading inside without glancing her way. “I’ll let you into my office to get your briefcase and coat.”
“Thanks.”
As they walked inside, he did his best to pretend she wasn’t there. He knew himself too well, knew that the rage and sorrow and desperation he felt were a bad combination, and if he wasn’t careful he was going to end up doing something stupid. Like kissing Vivian when he should be putting as much distance between the two of them as possible.
Rafael gritted his teeth as he neared his office. She was so close he could actually feel her behind him, her breath coming in soft little pulses against his shoulder.
But it was just the stress, the worry over Diego that was making him nearly desperate for the feel of her in his arms. So what if he was attracted to her—he wasn’t an animal. He could handle it, ignore it. He sure as hell didn’t have to do anything about it. No matter how good she smelled.
Or looked.
Or sounded.
He pushed open the door to his office and then stepped out of the way so she could pass, careful to stand far enough away that she didn’t have to touch him as she crossed the threshold. There was no sense in tempting fate, no matter how strong he thought his control was.
She reappeared a few seconds later, with her briefcase in one hand and her coat in the other. “I’ll call you tomorrow—to see how Diego is.”
He nodded, then glanced away, because what he really wanted to do was pull her into his arms and feel her warm, lush body pressed against his own. “Sure.”
“I want you to contact me as soon as he wakes up,” she continued, completely oblivious to the sudden need he was trying so hard to hide. “I don’t want him questioned by the police unless we’re both there.”
“All right.”
“I’m serious, Rafael. He can’t talk to them unless I’m present. I know he’s the victim and they’ll tell you they only want to find out who did this to him, but I’m telling you it’s a load of crap. I’ve been involved with enough domestic violence cases to know how easy it is to blame the victim.”
“I got it.” He made the mistake of looking at her, and his need for her kicked up another notch—or five.
Clenching his fists, fighting the ridiculous attraction for all it was worth, he headed toward the door at a near run. “As soon as the police show up, I’ll call you,” he promised.
“Good. And—”
“And don’t let them anywhere near Diego until you get there.”
She studied him for a moment, her eyes moving over him as if she was searching for something specific. He tried to keep the hard-ass look in place, not wanting her to know how much he desired her.
But she didn’t say anything else, simply nodded and waggled her fingers in a little wave before turning away and heading toward her car.
He wanted to call her back, wanted to ask her to stay and just talk to him for a while. Wanted more than anything to pull her into his arms and kiss her until she made him forget what a truly terrible, messed-up day it had been.
Which was exactly why he let her go.