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I catch Diego’s eyes in the rearview as he’s pulling to a stop.
“Not a word.” I stop him before he has a chance to question me and whatever the fuck it is I’m doing. Like the good soldier he is, not a peep comes from him as he slips the car into park and climbs from it.
seven
RAFAEL
“You’re a savage son of a bitch, Rafael, but this doesn’t look like your handiwork.” Doc looks over the woman in my arms as he graciously holds the door open for me to carry her inside.
He’s right.
I am a fucking brutal man. There is no denying that. I hunt and kill men like it’s a fucking sport. Toying with and torturing my prey when I catch them is a perk of the job. But that’s men—those who have chosen to cross my family.
I’m no saint, but women are different.
I use them as leverage to get their men to talk—sometimes scaring them both to death with thoughts and threats of things I would never actually do to them. I kill them—only when it’s necessary to make a statement, but it’s always quick.
Merciful.
For the beast that I am, I’m not fucking evil. I could never do to a woman what those men did to her. They used her like a fucking animal and left her to die in her own squalor.
Those are fucking cowards, not fucking men.
Walking straight through my apartment, I carry her straight to my bedroom. Doc and the woman he brought with him follow. Leaning forward to lay her on the bed, her whole body begins to shake in my arms as her hands tightly fist my shirt. Her trembling only increases when Doc reaches his hand toward her, “What’s your name, dear?”
“Don’t fucking touch her,” I snarl while pulling her closer. “There’s a reason I told you to bring a woman with you. You don’t touch her.”
I look at the woman he brought with him, standing at the far side of the room. Lingering along the wall, her arms are crossed firmly across her chest, one hand covering her gaping mouth. There is no denying how appalled she is at the condition of the woman she is here to treat.
“Are you going to fucking help her?” I huff, startling her. My words startle her, and she begins walking toward us—the horrified look on her face morphs into one of stoic professionalism with each step.
Tentatively extending a hand, she says, “I’m Dr. Aguilar, but you can call me Maria. What can I call you?”
“Lucia.” Her voice cracks as the word vibrates against my chest.
Lucia.
“I’m going to take a quick look at you, Lucia. I want to make sure there is nothing emergent that we need to tend to. Then, how about we get you cleaned up?” Dr. Aguilar questions, before turning her attention to me and drastically lowering her voice. “I’m assuming that we aren’t concerned with preserving evidence?”
I shake my head at her question, confirming her suspicion, and she nods in understanding before returning her attention to Lucia. As though I am not even there, she thoroughly checks out her patient—pulse, reflexes, pupil dilation, the severity of bruises, possibilities of broken bones—all while vocally walking her through everything and allowing her to contain as much modesty as possible with the thin sheet covering her.
“Do you think you can stand to shower?” Dr. Aguilar asks, and Lucia’s face contorts with unease.
Jesus. How fucking long was she tied to that bed?
“No worries. I’ll draw a bath, and we can get you cleaned up,” Dr. Aguilar continues as she gestures toward the two doors across the room.
“The one on the left.” I tip my head toward the door. “Towels and washcloths are in the closet behind the door.”
Dr. Aguilar disappears into the attached bath, and the sound of water filling the tub immediately begins to filter into the bedroom. Waiting a moment to give it time to fill, I stand from the bed and carry Lucia into the bathroom. Carefully, I sit us both on the edge of the tub and swipe my hand through the water to test the temperature. Twisting Lucia on my lap, I lower her sheet-covered body into the water.
The white sheet becomes transparent as it begins to cling to her petite, hourglass figure, and I can’t help but think how beautiful she must’ve been before all of this. Quickly shaking the thought away, I pull my soaked arms from the water and stand from the edge of the bath. “She’s going to take good care of you. You’re safe with her.”
Lucia doesn’t speak a word, but her gaze is filled with gratitude.
Don’t thank me yet, little lamb.
“I’ll be down the hall if you need anything,” I speak softly to Dr. Aguilar on my way out of the bathroom. Crossing the threshold, I pull the door almost shut behind me to grant the two of them some privacy.
