Stepping in, he closed the door fully behind him."Why are you in here?" he asked, setting down the food and drinks onthe nightstand beside her. "Normally, you can stand watching thechampionship game, at least."
Letting her phone drop to her side on the bed,Maritzia gave him a shrug. "I wasn't in the mood."
This was the first time he had ever been in thisroom, he realized. Grabbing the back of the wingback chair in the corner nearher nightstand, Cade glanced around the room as he dragged it closer to herside of the bed. The room was a little dark but very comfortable looking. Aknot formed in his stomach as he glanced at the empty side of the bed andrealized Victor slept there each night next to her. The thought made his headswim with so many emotions, but anger was definitely the most prevalent.
Looking back at her, Cade frowned at thetiredness in her eyes and the slight slump of her shoulders. Sitting down inthe chair he had moved, he was a little below eye-level to her now.
"You okay? They told me you didn’t feelgood."
"Yeah, it's fine. I just said that toleave," she admitted, looking at the blank TV on the other side of theroom opposite the bed.
Leaning back further in his chair and stretchingout his legs, he gave her a searching look.You shouldn’t have to makeexcuses in your own home,was what he wanted to say but didn't. He remindedhimself it wasn't his place.
"And besides, we’ve been arguing a lotlately," she confessed hesitantly, still not looking at him.
Cade sank into the chair's arms and imaginedVictor out in the living room right now laughing it up with his buddies."Anything in particular?" he asked, forcing himself to keep his voiceneutral.
"Just stuff,” she shrugged. “You know thenormal relationship stuff. Nothing…too big."
There was so much Cade wanted to say, so muchfighting to claw up from the churning anger in his gut, but he kept it down. Hethought of all the times he had entered their squad car with the same defeatedand angry attitude from a night arguing with Bethany. Maritzia had listened tohim each and every time with gentle, understanding silence. She had told himwhen he was being an ass and told him when he was right. She had offered tipson how to approach and handle Bethany, things to do to work past their anger.Hell, it was probably Maritzia that helped keep his and Bethany's relationshipgoing for as long as it had. When he had been beyond ready to throw in thetowel, Maritzia was there to gently talk him down and reconsider. He wanted togive that to her now, to offer her the unrelenting support she had offered himeven if it was for the very person he loathed. But the words were like acid inhis throat. How could he encourage her to work it out with a prick like Victor?
"I'm sorry. I wish I was like you and knewwhat to say," he finally whispered.
"It's ok." She took his hand andsqueezed it. "Just being with me now is perfect."
Nodding, he didn't trust himself to say more.Reaching behind his head with his other hand to her nightstand, Cade grabbedthe TV remote and pointed it to the TV.
"Let's watch one of those internationalrenovation shows where Americans buy dirt-cheap, fucked up properties and getin way over their heads and have nervous breakdowns," he offered as hesearched for the right channel.
Maritzia laughed and nodded her head. "Yes,let's. Their suffering will act as a balm to my soul."
It was his turn to laugh and he squeezed her handthat still held his. Settling into their spots, hers on the bed next to him andhim in the chair they ignored the laughter and cheers from the living room andsank into their own world.
Cade opened his eyes at the sound of the door opening.The TV was still going at the foot of the bed, playing a commercial as Maritziaslept next to him curled up close to him on the edge of the bed. Looking at hisarm that still rested on the bed, Cade noticed with disappointment that at somepoint their hands had come undone. Turning his head to the intruder, Cadeblinked away the lingering sleep as he stared at Victor's burning gaze. Lookingfrom him to Maritzia, for once Victor's gaze turned shrewd, picking up all thepieces before him and recreating the scene. Cade ignored the fury dancing inthe man's eyes and over the man’s shoulders where Carlos stood lingering beyondthe doorway nosily peeking in.
"Get out," Victor hissed, bringingCade's attention back to him.
Taking his time, Cade stood up quietly from thechair and looked at Maritzia's beautiful face. At some point during the night,she had grown tired of the ball she had worn her hair in at the nape of herneck and had taken it down. Loose and fully curly, her black hair lay messilyaround her like a silky, fluffy black cloud that begged a man to touch it.Standing at his full height, Cade turned and looked down at Victor, wishing theman would just start this fight that had been brewing between them for yearsnow. All he would need to do is take one step forward, to crowd the man in asilent act of challenge, and Cade knew he would get the fight he desperatelywanted, but again, he restrained himself for her. He would not want to do ithere, not now. He would never wake Maritzia up in fear like that. Turning, hewalked past the man and followed Carlos down the short hall to the front dooras Victor closed the bedroom door behind him.
Stepping out into the hall, both Cade and Carlospaused at Victor's voice.
"Hey, Cade," Victor's voice was thickwith anger as he waited for Cade to turn around and look at him. "Don'tever come back here again. You may be her partner, but you're not invited backhere."
Carlos looked momentarily stunned before a smileformed at his lips and he looked back at Cade.
Leaning one shoulder against the door jamb Cadelooked from Carlos to Victor and back to Carlos. "Hey, remind me whoexactly owns this apartment again?"
"I believe that would be myself and mysister," Carlos answered happily.
"Yeah, no," Cade said, replying toVictor directly now with a tsking sound as he looked at Victor's angry face."That doesn’t seem like a decision you can make, now does it?"
The door slammed in his face and both his andCarlos's laughs echoed down the quiet hallway.
Chapter5
Standing in the doorway of Mrs. DeLeon's kitchen,Victor looked out onto the packed living room. Kids, adults, and a few seniorsfilled the large living room of the apartment. Simply put, the DeLeon familywas massive. Separated into different factions, the DeLeon were renowned in theBronx. The family owned multiple family-owned restaurants, travel agencies,bodegas, daycares, and had tons of real estate. Growing up a few blocks awayfrom here, Victor had known a few of the DeLeon kids growing up. He could stillremember his mother pulling him aside one day after seeing him playing with afew of them and telling him to be nice to them. It was an unusual thing for hismother to say and he had stared at her in confusion that day. Normally, his mothercouldn’t care less who he was friends with, much less the dynamics of hisfriendship. His mother was the housekeeping supervisor of a nice hotel in theupper east-side Manhattan, a position she had fought hard to get for years. Thelast thing she had time for was micromanaging her young son's friendships. Butwith the DeLeons she made the exception. Seeing his confusion, she hadexplained to them the far reach of the family, and while they weren'tnecessarily rich, they did have connections nearly everywhere—connections theywere not afraid to use. Connections like uncles that made sure to give theirniece an accelerated career path to detective in less than five years fromstarting as a rookie, he thought sourly.
Scanning the room of smiling faces, he settledback to the familiar shape in the corner. Kneeling down on the floor, Maritziamade a silly face at the two little boys playing around her. Wearing a pair ofslim-fitting jeans and a yellow t-shirt and sneakers, she leaned forward andtook the little race car one of the boys eagerly thrust towards her, placing iton the elaborate track she had helped them build moments before. With squealinglaughter and hyper almost unintelligible words, the boys pushed the little carto race around the yellow plastic track.
