Chapter Nine
Aliana was awake from her nap, looking at an email from her insurance company when her phone vibrated with a text. It was Hunter. He and Dalton were outside, he’d seen her light come on, and wondered if he could give her an update on what he’d learned. She told him to give her ten minutes, and she’d open the door for him.
By the time he knocked softly on the front door, she had cocoa and coffee on the stove along with the fixings for a ham sandwich and more of her grandmother’s Marlenka honey cake.
“You got all of this done in ten minutes? Just what all do you get accomplished in a day at your job?”
“What can I get for you?” How could his words embarrass her and make her happy at the same time?
“Definitely coffee and please God say you don’t make it like Beatrice Price.”
“What are you talking about? She makes good coffee.”
“Oh yeah, she said she made it special for us because we’re sailors. Never let her make the sailor batch. It won’t just put hair on your chest, it’ll put hair on your palms.”
She giggled. “What else do you want?”
“Load me up.”
“Do you always wear a gun?” she asked. She saw the butt of it under his jacket as he sat down at the table.
“I have a permit to carry a concealed weapon. I kind of feel naked without it. It comes in handy even at the most innocent events imaginable. I’ll tell you the story about a friend’s wedding sometime.”
“A wedding? You needed a gun at a wedding?”
“It’s a long story,” he said, taking the mug of coffee she offered.
“You’re joking me.”
“Oh, Cariña, I wish I was. It was a scary twenty minutes.”
“Scary?”
“I hate it when women and children are involved, and this time there was a newborn.”
“Are they okay?”
“We had one fatality, but not the ladies or the baby.”
She went to him, and put her arm around him, resting her cheek on his silky hair. She could tell that even the one death still weighed heavy on him.
“But you saved so many.” She still didn’t understand how they needed guns at a wedding, but if he wasn’t sharing, she wouldn’t probe.
“Yeah, I guess.”
She kissed the top of his head and straightened.
“How big of a sandwich?”
He looked up at her and winked. “I’m a growing boy.”
“Big sandwich coming up.”
When she set the plate in front of him, he raised an eyebrow. “Aren’t you going to have anything?”
“I’m not hungry.”
“Did you eat anything when you came in earlier?”
“No, I went to bed. I wasn’t feeling well.”
“When was the last time you’ve eaten?”
She thought about it. “I had a snack before you picked me up.”
“What?”
“A banana.”
“No wonder you’re so slim.” He got up from the table. “Do you want a mug of cocoa?”
Now that she thought about it, that sounded good. “What about a piece of cake?”
“No, that’s too sweet.”
“Some toast?”
She started to push up from the table. Toast sounded really good, especially with peanut butter. Peanut butter toast with hot chocolate. Heaven.
“The lady wants toast,” he chuckled. “Don’t you dare get up. Sit your tushie back down, I’m making it.”
“I want peanut butter on my toast,” she called out.
“Done.”
She watched him putz around the kitchen, he was very efficient. He only had to open two cabinets to find the peanut butter and bread. He had the toast up in no time.
“Here you go,” he said, placing the cocoa and toast in front of her. He sat back down beside her. Up was down, and black was white. She was being an idiot because after spending twenty minutes in the car trying to push him away, she was happy they were sitting so close, their legs were touching. She definitely needed Lottie’s professional services.
She watched as he took his first bite of the sandwich.
“Avocados, this is fantastic, Alia. Do you cook?”
“Yep. Mom taught me. I make a lot of Czechoslovakian dishes, but when I was in college, I shared an apartment my senior year with a girl, and she and I experimented with a lot of Italian and good old-fashioned meat and potatoes types of food. I think we got good at it. Of course, when Maminka came to live with me, I started cooking Czechoslovakian again.”
“Would I like that?”
“I don’t know. We use a whole different spice pallet than Mexican food.”
“Will you cook for me?”
“Sure, I guess.”
“Great, it’s a date,” he smiled.
“You don’t let up, do you?”
“Giving up is not an option, it’s in the SEAL rule book.”
She needed to change the subject.
“Tell me what you found out from Nicolas, after you dropped me off. Did you find Darla?”
This time Hunter blew out a breath. “We’ll get to Darla. First, let’s talk about what we found.”
“How bad?”
“I’ve seen better, I’ve seen worse. He offered us both a snack, and the fridge was full. He suggested we sit down at their dining table, but Zed and I were sure if we sat in the chairs, we’d break them.”
“That bad?”
“These weren’t second-hand. The table and chairs had to have been picked up from the street, but there was a cheery tablecloth on the table and a chipped vase with wildflowers. Even a sunflower.” Hunter grinned up at her when he mentioned that last item.
Aliana chose to ignore him. “You can tell his mom makes sure her children are dressed well for school though. That kind of thing is important to her. Even Mateo was always well dressed. Did Nicolas tell you anything about him?”
“Mateo hasn’t been around much anymore. Nicolas thinks Mateo might actually marry his girlfriend because he didn’t crash at their place the last few months like he used to.”
“I wouldn’t have thought coming home to Mama would have been Mateo’s style,” Aliana commented.
Hunter motioned for Aliana to eat. They munched in silence. Aliana savored her treat, she hadn’t realized how hungry she’d been. Midway through her toast, Hunter got up and retrieved her empty mug and refilled it.
“Here,” he said as he sat back down.
“Do you want another sandwich?” she asked.
“I’m good.”
She finished her toast and cocoa. “Thank you so much. This was just what I needed.”
“You don’t take care of yourself.”
“You sound like Lottie.”
“I like your friend. Zed made a play for her this afternoon when we were asking about Nicolas. She turned him down, said she was dating Ernie. Just made him want her more. We both admired her loyalty.”
She was relieved not to be talking about herself. He put his hand over hers.
“I’m glad you have a friend who worries about you. You have too much responsibility and not enough people watching out for you.”
“Hardly,” she dismissed. “I take care of myself just fine.”
Hunter just gave her a considering look. She took advantage of it and continued.
“Let’s get back to Nicolas and his living conditions. Not only does his mom keep him in clothes and food, he plays an instrument. The rent on those things isn’t cheap.”
“You’re determined not to talk about yourself, aren’t you?” Hunter sighed.
“Yes, I am,” she said firmly. “Tell me about their apartment.”
“Three small bedrooms, one bathroom.”
“How did you find that out?”
“I said I had to use the facilities.”
She should have realized that. “Go on.”
“While Zed kept him talking, I peeked into the rooms. One room had two bookshelves and a pretty old computer. It was clearly Nicolas’ room. The mom’s room is exactly what you’d expect. Neat and tidy, a crucifix over the bed. But Darla’s? It was damn near all black. Is she a goth chick?”
“She wasn’t when she went to Bertrum.”
“Yeah, I didn’t think so. There was a family picture on the wall, and she was wearing pink. Nicolas doesn’t look much like his brother or his father. It looked like it was taken two or three years ago and he was already about his father’s height.”
“What are you talking about? Nicolas is nowhere near Mark’s size.”
“Who’s Mark?”
“Nicolas’ father. I met him about four months ago.”
“Nicolas said his father is dead. He specifically pointed to the man in the picture and said he’d died two years ago.”
“Then he wasn’t Nicolas’ father. I met his father. He stood in the back of the auditorium when Nicolas got the Clancy Bertrum Award for his paper on Climate Change.”
“Are you positive he was his dad? Then who was in the photo?” Hunter asked.
“I don’t know, but there was no doubt the man I met was Nicolas’ dad, he was the spitting image of him. I went up and introduced myself to him. Mark even smiled like Nicolas. It was funny, from a distance he seemed like bad news, but he was nice as can be when I talked to him. He was really proud of Nicolas. That day I told him Nicolas had a real shot at getting a scholarship to college.”
“How did he respond when you told him about the scholarship?”
“He told me that I shouldn’t fill his son’s head full of dreams that couldn’t possibly come true. I told him he needed to come to my office to discuss this because I had statistics to show him. I also wanted to go over Nicolas’ records with him.”
“Jesus, were you going to show him a fucking PowerPoint presentation?”
“Just a printout of one,” she defended. “It doesn’t matter. He told me college wasn’t on the horizon for Nicolas, then I explained how I thought it was possible that with the right effort, he could get a full scholarship. I could see that Mark was getting angry, so I chose to back off. I suggested we meet the following week. I gave him my card, but he never called.”
“I wonder who the guy at the apartment was?” Hunter muttered.
Aliana thought it through. Neither Darla nor Mateo looked anything like Nicolas. Nor did they have any of his acumen or personality traits.
“So, Mrs. Garcia cheated on her husband? That doesn’t sound right.” Aliana tried to work it through her head. She’d met Ana Garcia on multiple occasions. She was deeply religious and hard-working. She cared deeply for her children. She got up from the table and started pacing. “This is so not adding up. There is no way Ana Garcia would have cheated. I would bet my 401k.”
“Okay, so she doesn’t cheat. Mark’s the dad. What else you got?”
“When I really think it through, I can believe she’s Darla and Mateo’s mom, but not Nicolas’. You saw the wedding picture, does she look like Nicolas?”
“No, they don’t look alike. Are you thinking he isn’t her kid? You’re thinking this Mark guy gave him to Ana to raise?”
“If I have to guess, Mark’s probably not more than your age.”
“Great, babies having babies.” Now Hunter stood up, walked over to Aliana, and looked her in the eye. “There’s one more piece to this fun little puzzle, Alia.”
“Shoot.”
“The name of Los Demonios gang leader is San Marco.”
Aliana felt her eyes go big. Was he kidding? It couldn’t be, but she remembered back to the day in the office when Nicolas said he was born into the gang that it was his family. Is that what he meant. Maybe he meant someone more than just Mateo.
“God, this would explain so much.”
“Sure as hell would,” he agreed. “Mateo is going pretty hot and heavy trying to bring his supposed brother back into the fold, and they’re using a lot more gang resources than normal.”
“Hunter, I think that Nicolas knows. I think he knows that Mark, I mean San Marco is the leader of the gang, and he’s his father.”
“Come sit back down and tell me why you think that.” She sat next to Hunter, their knees once again touching. Hunter grabbed her hand, smiling into her eyes. “Now tell me.”
“It was something Nicolas said in my office. He said he was born into the gang that they were his family. At the time, I thought he was referring to Mateo, but now I think he might have been talking about his real dad.”
“I need to track down San Marco, and the only way I can think to do this is to find Mateo. Nicolas thinks that Darla might know who his girlfriend is.”
“Great, it’s like we have to keep pulling the string—find Darla to find the girlfriend to find Mateo to find San Marco. This is crazy,” Aliana huffed. “Does Nicolas have any idea when Darla is going to be home.”
“Add one more person to the string. We have to find her friend Ynez. According to Nicolas, Mateo and Darla got into a big fight, and Darla’s been MIA ever since. He thinks she’s with Ynez. He says that Ynez is crazy, and he never knows what she’s going to do next.”
“Oh, for God’s sake. I know her from school. She is wild. This just gets better and better.”
“Alia,” Hunter grabbed both of her hands. “Stay with me for a moment, okay?”
“Sure, what?”
“Did Darla have many boyfriends at school?”
She thought about it for a moment. “No, I’m pretty sure she didn’t. Why are you asking?”
“It’s pertinent.”
“She hung out with another girl, not Ynez, a real mean girl, and they made life hell for other the weaker girls. She hated boys, that was how she ended up in juvenile detention, she attempted to stab a boy. She said he accosted her, but his buddies were there and said it was unprovoked, so she ended up locked up for eight months. But Hunter, she’d been bad news from the day she entered Bertrum. I talked to her middle school counselor, it was the same thing there. She was the school bully.”
“She never dated?”
“Not to my knowledge.” She said slowly. Her mouth went dry. She didn’t like where this was going. Not at all. She tried to pull her hands away, but he held firm. “Hunter, what aren’t you telling me?”
“Darla had two additional locks installed on her bedroom door. Both of them were broken.”
Images exploded across her mind.
Broken.
Broken.
Like the lock on the bathroom stall that had been broken.
Hunter’s face wavered. She couldn’t breathe.
Ping, the button hit the cement.
Ping. Mateo cut another button off, his foul breath blowing in her face.
Darla fighting with her older brother.
A broken lock.
A broken girl.
“How long?” Her voice sounded far away. Tinny.
“This isn’t for sure.”
“Tell me, Hunter. Tell me. How long has this been going on?”
“I don’t know, mi Cariña.”
Suddenly, the toast and cocoa were roiling around in her stomach.
“But how would that be possible in such a small apartment?” Had she just asked such a stupid question? “Scratch that. Monsters always find a way.”
She sat there in silence as pictures went through her mind. Dizzy, she walked out of the kitchen and went into her bedroom. She picked up her cell.
“Call Lottie Rodriguez,” she said into her phone. She waited for the four longest rings imaginable.
Lottie answered, “Are you okay? Why are you calling so late, Aliana?”
“Did Darla’s brother rape her?”
There was silence on the phone.
“Did he?” she asked softly.
She knew what the silence met. Tears froze in her heart. Keep it cool.
“When did this start, Lottie?”
“You know I won’t answer that.”
“I asked you a question,” she said politely.
She was met by silence.
“When did this start?”
She remembered the first time she pulled the girl into her office, the thick eyeliner, the bright red lipstick that went with the sneer. The foul language. “Was it happening that first time I wrote her up?”
“Aliana―”
“Tell me!” she shouted.
Warm arms circled her. She didn’t want that. She didn’t deserve that.
“You didn’t know, Honey. You couldn’t know,” Lottie said softly.
“I was tormenting this girl when she was being abused. I was adding to her abuse.”
Lottie was silent. “You didn’t know, Honey. You would never knowingly hurt anyone.”
She felt a tear fall. She dropped the phone on the bed. Hunter picked up the phone and said something, she didn’t know what. She was lost in her own head. Remembering every fucking time she had run into that girl in the hall. Every single time she’d told her to straighten up, or that she was watching her.
She didn’t even realize she was crying until Hunter pulled her into his arms.
“Ah, Cariña, you’re breaking my heart.”
She pictured Darla and that evil, twisted, sick brother of hers forcing her to have sex. He was a demon. He needed to die.
How many other children had she misjudged over the years?
“Aliana, talk to me.”
She couldn’t. “Hold me.”
“Always.” She burrowed closer. He’d always been her talisman.
“Láska?” her grandmother asked from the doorway. Aliana looked up from Hunter’s arms. Babička was in her robe. “What happened?”
“I’m fine. I just heard some bad news about one of my students. It happened a long time ago.” She cleared her throat and swiped at some of her tears. “Go back to bed.”
“Do you want me to make you some cocoa?”
Aliana gave a weak laugh. “I already had some Babička. I’ll be fine.”
“Hunter, do you have her?” her grandmother asked.
“Yes. She just had a shock. I’ll take care of her,” he promised as his arms gently tightened. Even now, he was careful of her bruises. “I’m going to get her to bed soon. She still has to meet the book club tomorrow.”
“She should have warm milk now, anyway, the chocolate would keep her up. You’ll make that for her?”
“I will. I promise.”
“Good night, then.”
Hunter didn’t move. He just stood there holding her. She took comfort even though she knew it was wrong. Eventually, enough was enough.
“Let’s go back to the kitchen?”
“Are you sure?” he asked.
“Yeah. After all, this isn’t about me, this is about Darla. I had no reason to be crying. I need to think of a way to be helping her, not in my bedroom having a pity party. That’s ridiculous.”
“Alia, you’re one of the most empathetic people I know. Of course, this would hit you hard.”
She closed her eyes. She pictured the broken locks, then pushed it away.
“Hunter, let’s finish this.” She pushed out of his arms and headed to the kitchen. She picked up the dishes from the table and they clattered as she shoved them into the sink.
“Alia?”
“We have to figure out where Darla is. We need to make sure she’s safe.”
“We’ll do that, Cariña, I promise.”
“You need to find that fucker, Mateo and crush him.”
“That was already on the agenda.” He coaxed her back to the table. “We’re going to use Nicolas to accomplish both of those things. He’s already given us a lead.”
“I don’t want you to use Nicolas. He’s innocent.”
“No, he’s not, mi Cielieto, he’s a member of Los Demonios, and don’t you forget it.”
“I know that,” she dismissed. “But he told you what he’s doing. He’s trying to get people to quit. He’s quietly recruiting people out of the gang. And what are you acting all high and mighty about? You and Zed were gang members too.”
“Right. Don’t canonize any of us. We all have feet made of clay.”
“Hunter, I don’t have any of you up on a pedestal, but I can be pretty damned impressed by all of you. Well, except for Zed, I don’t think he likes me. But you and Nicolas are remarkable.”
Hunter got an odd expression on his face, then picked up her hand, brought it to his mouth and kissed her palm.
“What was that for?” She was dazed.
“For seeing me as who I am.” He paused and cupped the back of her neck. “I see you too. I do. I think you’re a remarkable woman, and I’m blessed to have you in my life.”
Her throat was tight. She couldn’t respond.
He brought her forward and did the most astounding thing. His lips touched hers. She kept her eyes wide open, staring at him, watching as his eyes closed. His other hand came up and cupped her cheek and his lips feathered over her lips, coaxing. Coaxing what? She felt a tingle, a warmth spreading as she followed his lead. She was no longer looking at him. Her hands were gripping his shoulders, and his mouth settled softly on hers, guiding her slowly into a haze of wonder.
She started when she felt his tongue trace her bottom lip, but then the soft caress beguiled her into opening her mouth. Their breath mingled as he deepened their kiss. Oh God, she was kissing Hunter, and it was beautiful. The thought flew away as the tip of his tongue touched hers. She heard a whimper. His big hand moved down to her throat, his thumb sliding over her pulse. He did it again and again as if to calm her, but how could she calm down when his tongue was sliding against hers? She held onto his shoulders for dear life. In the distance, she heard more sounds. Gradually his mouth lifted from hers, and he kissed the side of her mouth, her cheek and then her closed eyelids.
“Are you okay?” he asked softly.
“Oh yes.”
“You were whimpering.”
So that was what that sound was. She opened her eyes. His eyes were dark and mysterious, it was like he held the secrets of the world. No. It was like he held the secrets of her world.
“Can you do me a favor?” he asked quietly.
“I’ll try.”
“Tell me why you asked me to leave you. Tell me what happened the night your dad died.”
She felt like he slipped a knife into her. Had he kissed her to soften her up so she would tell him?
He traced her pulse point again, and she realized he still held her.
“This isn’t an ambush, Cariña. That kiss was a decade too long in coming. Tell me. Make me understand.”
***
Hunter watched this woman, who meant so much to him, go from warm with desire to wounded. He hated that, but he had to do it. This might be his one and only opportunity to get to the bottom of things while she was this vulnerable. It was past time, thirteen years pastime, that he found out why she had thrown them away.
“Cariña, talk to me.” He drew his thumb upward and brushed her bottom lip where she was biting it. He’d kept his kiss as soft and gentle as he could because even now, her bottom lip was slightly swollen from the explosion. He knew from her reaction, she’d enjoyed it. He also guessed his Alia hadn’t been kissed much. There was too much surprise and wonder in her responses. His heart ached for her.
“Can you hold me? Like you did under the bleachers?” her voice was so soft, he could barely hear her words. Her nails were still biting into his shoulders.
“Always.” He led her into the other room and settled them on the couch. She sat away from him.
“Hunter, I’ve tried to work it out in my mind. I’ve dug out some of the rot, I have, but some of it is rooted so deep, it’ll never come free.” She dug her fists into her thighs, her mouth set in a grimace.
“God knows, I’ve needed help with shit before. You helped me earlier, just listening about meeting Mamie at the dumpster.”
She gave him a considering look, then a small smile. “God knows, I want my shit gone, too.”
“Come here,” he said. Hunter opened his arms. His heart about burst in his chest the way she burrowed into him. He wrapped both arms around her.
“My Táto seemed happy when I was young. Before he’d been forced to leave Czechoslovakia and move to America, he’d been a professor of literature and poetry at the University,” she said with pride.
Hunter shook his head. He was impatient to hear about his suicide, but she needed to get this out in her own way.
“He taught me how to write poetry. His poems were so stark, full of beauty and love.”
“Like your songs, I bet.”
“My songs don’t even come close to Táto’s poems. He had two books of poetry published back in the old country. I still have them.” She sounded both proud and sad.
“He sounds very accomplished. What did he do here in the United States?”
“He loved the Czech language so much, he didn’t want to learn English. He resented having to flee Czechoslovakia even though it wasn’t safe for him there.”
“What did he do for a living here?” he asked again.
“He worked in the foundry for my grandfather. That’s how he met my mother.”
“Oh, yeah, I knew he worked there.” A picture of a blonde man came to mind, he had always seemed out of place in his work boots and overalls.
“I didn’t realize how much this bothered him until I was in the seventh grade. I wrote two poems for English class, and the teacher had them put in the school newspaper. I was so excited. Of course, Heather made fun of me, but for once, that didn’t matter. Some of the other kids complimented me.”
“I remember when that happened. I walked you home that day.” She had been so excited, she had practically danced beside him down the sidewalk.
“When I presented Táto the school paper, he hardly said a word. I showed him how I had used imagery just like he’d taught me, but he walked away.” Aliana’s voice was quiet as she told her story, her accent thick like it had been in childhood. “At dinner, Maminka asked me to translate one of the poems into Czech, but it didn’t sound right. The rhymes and rhythms were off. Táto had me read, then repeat them again in English, but I could tell he was getting frustrated when he didn’t understand all the words. He got up from the dinner table and went to bed. Táto didn’t eat dinner with us for three nights in a row, he said he had headaches after work. I thought I had disappointed him. Eventually, I realized that was the turning point.”
“What do you mean?”
“Before that, Táto always held on to some sort of dream that he would go home to Czechoslovakia, or maybe our block would turn into Little Prague, and he would be mayor. Somehow, he would get to relive his old glory, but that day, when he saw me somewhat acclimated to America, that killed it for him. Something went wrong. His dreams started to slowly die, and it was Maminka and my fault.” She shivered, Hunter rubbed her arms, and she huddled closer.
“I could have handled it. I was used to people hating me for some unwarranted offense. Maminka had gone from being the apple of her parent’s eyes to living with my father. She adored him, and the more he pushed her away or resented her, the harder she tried to be perfect.” Her voice trailed off.
Hunter knew as much as she said she could handle it, Aliana would have been just as hurt as her mother. His little Alia always tried to be perfect for everyone, and everyone stomped on her.
“Tell me.”
“My mom was eighteen when she married my dad. She went straight from her father’s house to a little apartment her husband provided. There was only ever one car, so there was no need for her to drive. I remember when I was twelve, for no reason at all, Táko got mad at Mom because she couldn’t drive to the big warehouse store across town—she always walked or took the bus most places—I thought he was going to hit her. She didn’t cry, she just apologized for weeks. Her dad was dead, so she had her mom teach her to drive.”
“He didn’t teach her?”
“That night, he said she was an anchor, that he had to do everything, that she was nothing but another responsibility hanging around his neck, just like I was. She was too scared to ask him.”
Hunter felt the hair on the back of his neck rise. He remembered her saying she was relieving him of all responsibility. Was this what it went back to?
Hunter didn’t bother asking stupid questions, like why a man would think something like that. As far as he was concerned, her father should have kissed the ground his wife and daughter walked on. He was the problem, never bothering to acclimate, spending his time bemoaning the life he had lost, instead of cherishing the gifts he’d been given.
“So, he was a selfish bastard,” Hunter bit off.
“Not always. Maminka showed me the yearbooks of the university where he taught. He was praised by all of his students and was constantly going above and beyond. Occasionally, I think I’m like him,” she gave a sad laugh. “Pretty scary, huh?”
“You’re nothing like him.” Hunter hugged her fiercely. She clutched him back just as tightly. He waited until her breathing evened out.
“Tell me about the day he killed himself.”
She flinched against him.
“I’m sorry, mi Cielieto, I didn’t mean to scare you.”
“You didn’t, I just… I just…” She brought her feet up on the couch, her knees to her chest. It was almost the same pose she’d had under the bleachers those many years ago. He wrapped both arms around her, and she tugged them tighter and buried her face in the crook of his arm.
“I got out of school early, it was parent-teacher conference day. When I got home, the door to the apartment was unlocked. I called out to see who was home. Táto came out of the bedroom and said Maminka was over at Babička’s house making jam. He went back into his room, but he left the door open. I needed to talk to him. I thought he was home because he knew someone had to go meet with my teachers.”
Hunter could barely understand her. It wasn’t her beautiful accent, it was that her voice was thick with tears.
“I’m right here. You’re in my arms. You can tell me anything, and you’re safe, right here in my arms. I have you, Alia, you’re safe,” he said over and over again as he stroked her hair.
Aliana seemed to go inward. He waited, letting her tell the story in her own time, her own way.
***
Aliana had never shared this. Not even with the psychiatrist she’d seen in college who had helped her with so much. But here, in the safety of Hunter’s arms, she could bring the nightmare out into the light.
Her parents’ room was dim, the curtains were drawn. It smelled of roses. It was her mother’s favorite scent. Her dad stood out, sitting on the flowered bedspread in his overalls.
“Papa? Are you home to go to meet with my teachers?” she asked in Czech as she stepped into the room. A sliver of sunlight escaped the drapes and hit the barrel of the gun in her father’s hand. He had it pointed upwards at himself. He was staring down at it. The blue-black steel looked evil. Now that she saw it, she couldn’t take her eyes off it.
“What do you need now? What is it this time that I have to do for you? It’s always about you and your mom. What would you have me do?” he sneered.
Aliana heard him, but she couldn’t answer. His thumb traced the tip of the gun, the cloying smell of roses was assaulting her nose.
“Answer me!”
She jumped and stumbled further into the room.
“Look at you, you can’t even keep your feet. You whine about being made fun of, but you’re clumsy.”
“Why do you have a gun?”
“Protection. In this neighborhood, we need protection.” As he waved the gun, her head moved with it as if charmed by a snake. “Do you want to see it?”
“No.”
“Come here.”
She stayed glued to the carpet. This man wasn’t her Papa.
“Why are you home from school, Girl?”
“It’s parent, teacher conference day. You need to go talk to my teachers,” she said, then swallowed, praying he wouldn’t yell at her or worse.
“Just another goddamn thing that you need. What about what I need? Do you know what happened today? I left the foundry. We parted ways. Seventeen years and that new supervisor thinks he knows more than I do?” Her dad spit on the floor. “He knows nothing. Nobody knows anything.”
Aliana stared at her father. She had visited the foundry so often when her grandfather had been alive. It was a magical place, but she knew her father hated it, he never said so, but she could tell. He wanted to go back to the university in Czechoslovakia, he wanted to relive his glory.
“Do you know why I stayed?” he asked her.
He turned the gun over in his hands. He rolled it over. First, it pointed at him. Then it pointed at her. Sweat popped out on her brow, and fear made her teeth clench. She couldn’t speak, so she shook her head.
“Answer me. Do you know why I stayed at that goddamn job?”
“No, Papa, why?”
“Because of you and your mom. All either of you has ever been is a responsibility that has weighed me down. You flushed my dreams down the toilet, the two of you.”
“Mama loves you. I love you.”
“That’s the worst lie of all, saying you love me. You and your mom tied a rope around my neck and pulled me under water too many times. Your type of love kills, Aliana. It kills.”
Dread filled her as he lifted the gun. At that moment, she had no idea if he was going to shoot her. But if he did, it would have been fine. His words felt like death.
“Did you run?” Hunter asked.
“Yes, I ran toward him. I was afraid he would shoot himself, I wanted to stop him.”
“Fuck, Alia.” He gripped her so tight, it hurt, but she made no sound, she was lost in those hellishly long minutes in the past.
Her father shoved the barrel of the gun into his chin. His doughy flesh gobbled up the steel.
“Don’t!” she screamed as she lunged. The sound of the shot burst through her brain. She couldn’t hear anything. She watched the gun fall to the floor, but didn’t hear it thud. Her father fell sideways on the bed, a rich river of red poured from her father’s cheek and throat. She mashed her hands on both, trying to stem the tide.
His eyes were open, she saw life. She begged him not to die. “Please Papa, live. I love you so much. Live. I love you.” She pulled up the bedspread and pushed it into the wound, but the blood saturated the blanket like water from a faucet.
“Papa, can you hear me? Live.” She couldn’t even hear her own words because her ears were still ringing from the sound of the gun going off. She watched as life faded from his blue eyes.
“No! Don’t go,” she screamed and pleaded. She didn’t know how long she stayed like that, sobbing and pleading. The old neighbor next door, he came, then the police. Finally, her mother. She didn’t remember much. Her one clear thought was to never tell her mother what her father had said. Never tell anyone. Never ever.
Everyone thought Laszlo Novak committed suicide because he lost his job, and she did everything in her power to perpetuate that myth. She never told anyone until now that it was because of her and her mom.
“That’s bullshit, Alia,” Hunter roared in a soft, fierce whisper.
She had forgotten where she was or that she was with Hunter.
“Do you hear me? I’ll yell loud enough so your grandmother wakes up, and Dalton comes running, I don’t care. What he said was wrong. It’s wrong, mi Amor. Wrong.”
She took her face out of its hiding place in order to look at Hunter, he looked like he had been tortured. Why?
She slipped into Spanish, “Darling, don’t worry. I’ve made peace with this. I coped. I did the right things. I made sure my mom never knew what he said. She loved him so much, and it would have shattered her world.”
“So, you kept this buried inside you, eating away like acid? You said you didn’t even tell your shrink. What the fuck, Alia? Why not?”
She cringed at his words, and for the first time, being in his arms didn’t feel good. She tried to get up.
“No, you’re not going anywhere. This time, I’m not letting you get away, you hear me? I get it now. I get why you sent me away all those years ago, and it breaks my fucking heart. All those years, Alia. All those lost years. Do you know what we could have been to one another?” Was he saying what she thought he was? It wasn’t possible. She stopped moving and stared up into his eyes.
“You were meant for better things,” she whispered.
“Better than what?”
“Better than me. I would have done to you what my mother did to my father. What I did to my father.”
“Your dad was a headcase. A cruel one, at that.”
She flinched. “I’m a headcase too, didn’t you hear, I had a shrink in college?” She winced as soon as she heard the words come out of her mouth. She knew better than that. Apparently, so did Hunter because he didn’t let it slide.
“That just tells me you had the good sense to get help. Do you know I’ve had to go to the military shrink? Our missions can really mess with our heads. Sometimes, we need help to keep it together. Off the top of my head, I can think of one man, who I really respect, who had to spend over a year on a couch, probably needed meds too. He had to really fight his way back. He wasn’t a headcase, he is a hero.”
She let out a long trembling sigh. “This is a lot.”
“I imagine it is. Jesus, that’s a fuckload of poison you’ve been holding onto.”
“I think I feel a bit better,” she admitted.
“Baby, while you try to sort that out, can I hold you? I’m scared to let you go.”
She looked at him questioningly.
In a display of strength that astounded her, he picked her up, while reclining on the couch. Then he laid her on top of himself. He snagged the afghan from the back of the sofa and draped it over her.
“Will you be comfortable if we sleep like this tonight? I’m afraid if I leave, you’ll disappear behind a wall again.”
She relaxed into the heat of his body, stretching and arranging herself until she fit comfortably.
“You’re killing me,” he whispered huskily.
“What?”
“Never mind, Chaquita. I think we’re going to have to work our way up to some things. Something tells me my Alia is a little naïve.”
“I am not,” she protested hotly as she pushed up on his chest to look into his eyes. “I’m a Vice Principal of a school. I know lots of things.”
“Been kissed much?” he asked.
She dropped her forehead to his chest and whispered, “No.”
“Go to sleep, mi Cielieto. I have you.”
She yawned. She was absolutely drained. She hadn’t thought she would be able to sleep on top of Hunter, but the last thing she heard was the beating of his heart.