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“Mr. Garcia?” A doctor walks around the corner.
“Yes?” I stand.
“April’s tests are all back. She has a heavy concussion but is clear to be released into care. Are you okay to stay with her or should I call family?”
“I’ll look after her. Is everything okay?”
“Thankfully, she’ll make a full recovery. I’ve written up a prescription for pain meds. She’ll have a headache for a few days. She’s very lucky.”
“Thank you.” I shake his hand. “I really appreciate it.”
The doctor leaves us alone, and I turn to Spencer. “Do you want to come in and say hi?”
He thinks for a second, “No, it’s okay. I’ll meet her properly some other time. She wouldn’t be in the mood for me. Send her my best wishes, though.” He shakes my hand. “Keep me posted.” He heads for the door.
“Spence?” I call, and he turns back. “Thanks.”
He flashes me a smile, and with a curt nod, he turns and leaves.
If ever there was a faithful friend, it’s Spencer Jones.
The late afternoon sunlight shines through the window. April is fast asleep in my bed, and I’m sitting in a chair in the corner of the room.
No locks were broken, which can only mean one thing. Helena had a key.
How?
The locksmiths should be here soon. I’ve had my security company working on the alarm systems all afternoon. Apparently, the recording function was turned off from inside the house about three weeks ago, which means this isn’t the first time Helena has been here.
What the fuck does she want?
I haven’t been able to ask April anymore questions—she’s still sleepy—but I have this lead ball in the pit of my stomach.
If April had of hit her head any harder, she may have…
I close my eyes.
I’m sickened that things have gone the way that they did.
“Seb?” April whispers.
I get up and move to sit on the side of the bed. “I’m here, baby.” I take her hand in mine, bend, and softly kiss her cheek. “I’m not leaving. Go back to sleep.”
She smiles sleepily and closes her heavy eyelids once more.
I hold her hand as I stare at her beautiful face. She has the bluest black eye I’ve ever seen.
So many thoughts are running through my mind. So much hate and resentment. Feelings that I never thought I’d have for someone I once loved.
What was Helena looking for?
Tomorrow, we have to talk to the police, and a decision needs to be made as to what I want to do with this. I know what I want to do.
I picture my hand around Helena’s throat. Nothing would give me more pleasure than strangling that bitch.
If only…
April
The delicious aroma of bacon and eggs wakes me from my slumber.
I stretch and look around Sebastian’s bedroom. Jeez, what day is it?
I feel like I’ve been zonked out for a week.
I get up and go to the bathroom. As I’m washing my hands, I look in the mirror and cringe. My eye is closed, and it’s so bruised, it’s a deep blue. I gently pad the swollen, sore tissue around my eyebrow, and I wince in pain.
Hell, I did a good job of it, that’s for sure.
Damn it, I wish I caught that bitch and punched her square in the face.
How dare she come here?
I wash my face and try to open my eye but it throbs. Bloody hell, how do boxers do this for all the time? Black eyes are surprisingly painful. Even my eyeball is sore.
I tie my hair back, pull on Sebastian’s robe, and I make my way downstairs toward the kitchen.
I’m starving.
I find Sebastian in the kitchen. He’s stirring something in a frying pan, wearing navy pajama pants and a white T-shirt.
He looks up and gives me a breathtaking smile. “Here she is, Rocky Balboa.”
I smile as I make my way over to him. He takes me into his arms. “Clumsy Balboa, more like.” I peer into the frying pan to see an omelet. “That smells delicious.”
He kisses my forehead. “How are you feeling?”
“Good.” I shrug. “A little embarrassed, if I’m honest.”
“Why?”
“Because at the most crucial moment of all time, I fall over and clock my head. I should have caught her.”
“Are you sure you fell over?”
“Yes.”
His eyes hold mine, as if not believing me for a second. Wait, he doesn’t think…
“She wouldn’t beat me in a fight, you know.” I say as I put my hands on my hips.
He bites his bottom lip to hide his smile.
“I’m pretty tough, Sebastian.”
“I have no doubt.” He kisses me softly. “Never pictured you for a brawler, though.”
“Yeah, well, some people trigger me.”
He chuckles. “Hungry?”
“Starving.” I look at the clock on the wall and step out of his arms. “Shit, we’re late for work.”
“Not so fast.” He pulls out the stool at the kitchen counter and sits me down. “I’ve cancelled the trip away this week and we’re both working from home for a few days.” He puts two cups of coffee on the counter.
