Not caring that I was double-parked, I flung open the Jeep door. God, I hoped Lucy wasn’t hurt too badly. If it were really serious, the ambulance would have whisked her away to the hospital by now, so the fact that it was still here was a good sign.
I rushed toward the scene. The sight of Becca sitting in the back of the ambulance sent ice speeding through my veins. I jumped into the vehicle, not caring if I was allowed to do that, and pushed past the EMT. I gripped Becca by the shoulders, probably much too roughly given the circumstance, and pulled her against me, cradling her head in my hand. I couldn’t breathe. But thank God she was.
Her breaths were shuddered, but the rise and fall of her chest against mine was a sweet feeling. “I’m okay,” she whispered. “I’m okay.”
But I couldn’t force myself to let go of her just yet, much less speak coherent words. She was hurt. It was my job to protect her, and I hadn’t.
“Miss Zizzo, would you like us to give you a minute?” the cop sitting next to the EMT asked.
“Yes, please.”
It was only after we were alone in the back of the ambulance that I released her, but only so I could look her over myself. A nasty bruise was forming above her right eyebrow, and a small cut on her temple had been closed with a butterfly bandage.
I instinctively reached up to touch it before drawing my hand back. “You’re not okay.”
“It looks worse than it is,” she said meekly.
“What happened?” My voice was much calmer than I felt.
“I feel so stupid.” Her words made me think she’d fallen and hurt herself or done something else that was equally stupid. “For eff’s sake, I’m a cop’s daughter.”
That sentiment chilled me. Tony Zizzo had been a cop for nearly thirty years, and I’d been at their house when he’d come home from being on duty with a tortured look in his eyes. He’d seen some shit in the line of duty. He’d made his entire family—even Roman—take self-defense classes and learn basic medical training, like CPR. Just a precaution, he’d always said. You’ll probably never need it. It sickened me that he’d been wrong.
“What happened?” I repeated.
“I was in my room, listening to music with my headphones on, and I fell asleep. When I woke up, I went into the kitchen. I thought I heard Lucy in her room, but it wasn’t her. Someone had broken in while I was listening to music or sleeping. I don’t know how long he’d been there. He knocked me out and ran off. It could have been a lot worse.”
She wrapped her arms around her middle, and for the first time I noticed she was only wearing a bathrobe. Holy fuck. She was already almost naked. He wouldn’t even have had to remove her clothes if he’d intended to rape her. If she hadn’t already had that thought, I wasn’t going to enlighten her. But holy fuck. It could have been a lot worse, but it could have been a lot better too. I could have been there.
“Did you see him?”
“Yes, but it’s a blur. I looked him right in the eyes, and he got this oh shit look because he knew he’d been caught. That’s when he slammed his elbow into my temple.”
I’ll kill him. If the cops did their job and found that guy, they were going to have to protect him from me.
“How did he get in?”
“The deadbolt wasn’t locked. See? Stupid. But it’s Bleaksburg, you know? I never thought…”
I knew what she meant. I had buddies who regularly left their apartments unlocked because they didn’t feel like having to take out their keys. “Lucy left earlier with a suitcase, so it might have looked like the apartment was empty since I had the lights off. The officer said there were two break-ins at apartments last week, so he might have been looking for empty ones.”
“What the hell? Shouldn’t they have put out an alert or something?”
“They probably will now. The other apartments were actually empty.” She let out a shaky breath. “It could have been so much worse, Carson. What if my bedroom was closer to the front door? He could have walked right into my room, and I wouldn’t have known because of those stupid headphones. Or what if Lucy had been home? Oh God. He was in her room.” Her calm expression was replaced by a panicked one, like what had happened was finally registering.
“You’re okay,” I said firmly. “That’s what matters.” I put my thumb under her chin and tilted her face up so she was forced to meet my gaze, holding it until she settled again.
“Excuse me,” the police officer from earlier said. “I’d like to finish up now so we can all get on our way.”
“Sure,” Becca said then turned to me. “Can you call my dad? I don’t think I can deal with him right now.” She winced. “That sounds bad, but you know what I mean.”
I knew exactly what she meant. Tony Zizzo was going to lose his shit when he learned that his baby girl had been attacked. The Zizzo men’s protective nature was embedded in their DNA.
I gently pressed my lips to Becca’s forehead. “Got it covered.” Then I climbed out of the ambulance to make room for the officer and EMT.
CHAPTER 11
Becca
I WATCHED FROM inside the ambulance as Carson talked to my dad, catching brief snippets of the conversation.
“She’s a little banged up, but she’ll be fine. You raised one tough girl.” He paused so my dad could talk, and I smiled. Carson knew exactly what to say to my father to calm him down. However, the best that could be expected was to take him from an eleven down to a ten. No doubt he would be on the phone to the Bleaksburg Police Department first thing in the morning to inquire about the incident. “No, sir. I don’t think you need to come.”
Shit. I was worried about that. I loved my dad, but he could be overwhelming at times like this.
“Miss Zizzo?”
I turned my attention back to the officer. “Sorry.”
“I have the description of the perpetrator you provided earlier, but there’s not much to go on. Is there anything else at all you remember?”
I shook my head. “I’m sorry. I was too stunned to look for any distinguishing marks or characteristics.” The officer blinked at my words. “My father is a cop.”
The officer smiled kindly, and I snuck a glance at his name tag for at least the third time. Officer Perez. He’d told me his name earlier, but I couldn’t seem to remember it. Stupid concussion. I hadn’t shared that gem of a diagnosis with Carson yet because he’d been freaked out enough.
I was angry with myself. Though Bleaksburg was a safe town, my complacency was unacceptable. My father had taught me better than that. This might have been prevented if I’d done the simple task of locking the deadbolt. It had probably only taken that guy seconds to pick the lock on the door handle.
I declined yet again to be taken to the hospital, and Carson assured the EMT he would keep an eye on me. Once the woman realized that Carson was a football player, she felt a lot better about his ability to monitor my concussion. After the ambulance left, Officer Perez escorted Carson and me to my apartment so I could pack a bag.
“You didn’t tell my dad about my concussion, did you?” I asked on the way to Carson’s place.