I’ve never wanted a man to claim my virginity. To touch me.
A throat clears then, and I feel my cheeks warm as I watch Theodore’s grin widen. He’s aware of the effect he has on me. “Miss Moore, I’m detective Ricardo Consuelos and I’ve been assigned this case. Mr. Tim Roy was found on your property this morning by you—is that correct?
“That’s correct.”
“Okay.” He takes two steps closer and pauses, pulling out a small notebook. The action reminds me of my therapist, and I frown a bit, something Theodore catches but before he can ask, I’m shaking my head. “Miss Moore, I want you to know that while I don’t suspect foul play, I do need to investigate and eliminate any possible doubt. Do you understand and agree to this?”
“Yes.”
“Do I have your permission to question you now?”
“You do, but I have something that should make this simple.” Both men look at me, one with surprise and the other with knowledge in those warm honey eyes.
“How so? Better yet, let’s start with why you didn’t call 911 immediately after finding the body.” That comes from the detective. His curiosity is mixed with reproach while I look over at Theodore.
“Do you know where my phone is? Or can I borrow yours?”
“You can use mine.” From his pocket, Theodore takes out a small device that reminds me of Tero’s second cell, which he claimed was for family, and hands it over. Nothing fancy. It’s basic. “Code is 1982.”
Nodding, I punch in the code and open the internet app once the interface comes to the screen. The search is quick and even quicker is logging in and looking for the video in question. And while I do this, neither man speaks but they watch me, and only once I turn the phone toward Detective Consuelos does he understand my rush.
The timecard started recording around two a.m. and continues in intervals as the motion sensor cameras pick up movement. There’s only a lull between videos that lasts ten minutes, but I’ll leave that up to them to investigate.
I don’t want to see him die.
I don’t want to see that image ever again.
“You had cameras running?”
“That should’ve been picked up by the officers on the scene, Detective.” Theodore takes the phone from me and hands it over to the unprepared man. “This should clear everything up for you—go ahead and look through the recordings. I’m sure Miss Moore will be more than willing to give you her login information when you’re done.”
“Of course. Thank you.” Consuelos does just that, and for a few minutes I watch from my hospital bed as he goes through video after video from different camera angles, not bothering to mute the sound or his reactions to the horror-filled scream captured on each. How did I not hear this? Is going deaf for hours a side-effect of my medication?
To be honest, I don’t even remember taking anything last night.
However, this happened, and I can only imagine what the detective is seeing, telling myself that it’s a movie and not real life, but the haunting sound fills every square inch of this room and I shudder. My throat constricts a bit, and I can’t stop myself from bringing a hand up to the area, which Theodore catches.
“Take the device outside,” he hisses out from between clenched teeth, causing the detective to nearly drop the phone. “Can’t you see what that’s doing to her?”
Detective Consuelos looks at me then with a horror-stricken face, and I’m sure mine mimics his. “My apologies, Miss. This was both unprofessional and careless of me. I didn’t mean to cause you any stress. We have more than enough evidence to clear you of any wrongdoing, not that you were directly being investigated, and we’ll commence a different type of search. Do we have permission to bring in someone from animal control to catch the snake? Traps will be set up for your protection and to remove and relocate the animal who was probably released by an exotic pet owner.”
“Yes,” I manage to croak out, taking the glass of water from Theodore and then taking a few sips. “Please do.”
“You have my word that we will catch it, Miss Moore. You’ll be safe again.” With that, he leaves and it’s just myself and the handsome man watching me carefully. And while I have so many questions that need answers, exhaustion hits me hard and I close my eyes. The need to rest is nearly overwhelming, and the last thing I hear is so low I’m afraid it’s all in my imagination.
You’ll be staying in my home tonight.
16
Theodore
She looks so defenseless and small on that bed, but more so as the detective overlooking the murder case interrogated her a little after waking up. I wanted to safeguard her from this, to break his jaw when he insinuated wrongdoing for not calling it in right away, but Gabriella handled herself perfectly. So prettily.
She knew her limits and rights and made it known, especially when handing over the security password where two motion sensor cameras captured the event. I’ll also be looking at the footage later while she rests in my home, because that’s where she’ll sleep tonight.
Under my roof. My care.
I’m not letting her out of my sight. Not today. Not tomorrow.
I’m a firm believer in fate, and it’s led me to her. This is a predestined path we all must follow, and my admiration for her work has led to an infatuation with the little beauty that’s been building for years. Her paintings are an extension of that inherent mouthiness that makes her all the more attractive.
I like her blushing tendencies.
I like her sassy responses.
She’s naturally stunning and without pretentiousness; what you see is what you get. It’s there in her expressive eyes and body language. There’s no need to guess with her, and that’s more than refreshing. It’s so fucking sexy.
“Am I crazy?” she whispers while asleep and I chuckle, taking in the slow rise and fall of her chest. How her eyelids flutter and goose bumps spread down her arms. So, little Gabriella naturally talks in her sleep? Adorable. “Feels like it. Everything is out of my control.”
“You’re not,” I answer even though the question wasn’t for me—who knows what’s going on in her dreamlike state, but if she can hear me, my hope is that I bring her comfort. Taking a hold of her hand, I slowly bring it to my lips and place a kiss over each knuckle. “I promise.”
“But these dreams and the voice—”
“Dreams are just dreams, sweetheart. Nothing is wrong with you.” My lips are against her skin, loving the softness of her hand. How delicate and small it is in my own. “You’re perfect as is. Always have been.”
Soft footfalls make a squeaking sound the closer to the room they get, and I turn to look at the door a second before the on-call attending peeks his head in. He’s on the younger side and with wandering eyes that sweep across her face a little longer than what’s appropriate and he knows it.
The asshole smirks to himself and walks in, but stops when he notices me. Blue eyes widen and a tan complexion becomes a bit pale; he backs down faster than he blinks.
“I’m sorry. I didn’t know anyone was—”