Mia peered up at me from the backseat. She said nothing as I climbed into the back with her. Her head pillowed on my shoulder when I gathered her close, needing the feel of her in my arms. With my free hand, I pulled out my phone and dialed Robert Rachiele’s number.
Chapter Nineteen — Mia
Mom would have loved the brownstone style complex built into the very heart of the city’s art district. It held all the class and charm of a romantic comedy. Even through the agony, I half expected Meg Ryan to come waltzing down the sidewalk.
I had only ever left my section of town once in my life. There was never enough time, or money to simply take a day trip to see how the other side lived. Well, judging from the lush, green yards and neatly pruned flowerboxes. There wasn’t even a single scrap of trash anywhere in sight. It was hard to believe my neighborhood was a forty-minute drive away in the wrong direction.
Dr. Robert Rachiele lived in the fourth unit, across from a beautiful sidewalk garden still in full bloom despite the change in season. Davien held me close against his chest as he climbed the steps with Nero right behind us. He was careful not to jostle me when he shifted aside to let Nero press the buzzer.
My whole body was on fire. What wasn’t assaulted by that maniac had been bruised by my fall. My entire right side throbbed. The arm I’d landed on hurt like no nobody’s business. I was almost sure I’d broken or fractured something. But the majority of my pain radiated around my fingers and my face. A lot of it had turned to numbness but not enough to keep the low whines from escaping my throat at the slightest bump.
“I know, baby,” Davien soothed against my sweaty brow. “I know. I’m sorry.”
I wanted to shake my head and assure him it wasn’t his fault, but I couldn’t trust myself not to fall apart. I was already holding on by a mere thread of sanity. The car ride over was enough time for reality to catch up, for my brain to twist around all the horrific possibilities that I had fought to bury the two hours Cortez had me tied up.
I could have died.
My parents would never have known what happened to me. Liana and Aunt Victoria would have blamed themselves for my disappearance. My family would have been devastated. I reminded myself that, at least, Nero and Davien would have been safe, but my brain also reminded me that Cortez would have just gone after them once he’d killed me. The very thought had me pressing closer to Davien.
“Mia?” Nero faced me while we waited for someone to answer the door.
“I’m okay,” I whispered, face mashed into the warm skin of Davien’s neck.
I wasn’t. Not by a long shot. I was trying so hard not to cry, not to dissolve into a puddle of hysteria and pain. It wasn’t so much that I didn’t want them to see me cry, but because it scared me more that I might not be able to stop if I let that wall crumble. I knew I would have to eventually let it out, but not yet.
The wood and glass door swung open, and a man stared back at them with eyes the soft green of damp grass. He wore dark cargo pants and a green t-shirt that emphasized the color of his eyes. He peered at each of us in turn before hurriedly stepping back and motioning them inside.
“First room down the hall,” he directed promptly.
I saw nothing of the corridor we crossed, or the room Davien took me into. I was placed gingerly on a freshly made bed in a brightly lit room. I had a vague recollection of pale, blue walls, but the stranger had followed us in and was fussing over me, taking my temperature, asking me questions I had no strength to answer.
“Can you tell me what happened?” he asked for the third time.
“Car accident,” I mumbled, not sure what the protocol was exactly, but knowing I didn’t trust this man enough not to call the cops. Plus, somewhere out there, a building was on fire with at least two bodies inside. I couldn’t let that get traced back to Nero.
It was unclear if he believed me. The fact that Nero stood on the other side of the bed, blood drying on his clothes probably didn’t help. Regardless, the doctor didn’t press me to elaborate.
Dr. Robert Rachiele, as he introduced himself, looked too young — in my opinion — to be a doctor. He had to be older, but he had the perfectly carved features of someone in their late twenties. His hands were quick, but gentle as they ease the ruined clothes from my body, cutting away my work top with a pair of kitchen scissors and tossing the ruined material to one side. My jeans went next, along with my sneakers and socks. I probably should have been mortified to be lying there in my underwear in front of a complete stranger, but Nero and Davien remained by my side, out of the way, but present on the other side of the bed.
“I’m going to clean some of this up first so I can see what we’re dealing with,” Dr. Rachiele explained, motioning to the dry, sticky blood smeared across half of my body. “I think at least two of those cuts are going to need stitches. Then, we’re going to have a look at those fingers.”
“Can’t we just take her to the hospital for that?” Davien interrupted.
“You can.” The doctor straightened and addressed the pair across my shivering body. “But you came here because I don’t ask questions.”
He wasn’t wrong. One look at me and no one would believe I was in a car accident, especially one where Davien got off untouched and Nero looked like he’d just finished filming a slasher flick. They would want answers. If they didn’t, the cops would.
“No, here’s fine,” I whispered.
Dr. Rachiele nodded and reached for the sheets bunched at the foot of the bed. He pulled them gently over me. Without another word, he left the room.
“Are we sure we can trust him?” Davien muttered, watching the guy disappear around the corner. “How do we know he’s not calling for backup right now?”
“We don’t.” Nero stooped until he was sitting next to my hip. His warm, hazel eyes searched mine. “How are you?”
“Tired,” I murmured honestly. “Sore.”
Nero started to reach for the hand closest to him but stopped himself before he could make contact. “I am so sorry, Mia.”
Despite the throbbing of my skull, I managed a weak shake of my head. “It wasn’t your fault.”
“No, this is your father’s fault,” Davien blurted, arms folding. “Him and Alejandro, and Eduardo.”
I frowned. “My father? He didn’t do—”
“He sent you away,” Davien cut off with a hiss. “And you went. You just left Mia.”
“Davien.” Nero shot him a hard glower. “This isn’t the time.”
But he was right. I had just left. For all my talk of being an adult, I had let my parents make one of the biggest decisions of my life for me. They had shuttled me off like some dirty secret. I knew why they’d done it, and I knew why I had agreed, but lying there, seeing their faces, feeling just how much I had missed them, I knew I’d fucked up.
“No,” I whispered, tears blurring their features. “You’re right, but it wasn’t my dad. It was me. I ran because I was scared.”
Both men stiffened. Glances were exchanged.
“Of us?” Davien murmured in a harsh whisper of someone sucker punched.
I opened my mouth to explain when Dr. Rachiele returned with a bowl of steaming water and clean rags. Nero rose and moved away from the bed to join Davien along the back wall. If Dr. Rachiele sensed the tension he’d stepped into, he made no comment as he set to work washing the blood off me. I was thankful he didn’t attempt to make small talk or ask anymore questions. He worked in silence while I closed my eyes and tried to calm my still racing adrenaline. Part of me refused to accept I’d survived. The other part was still reeling that I had. It had been risky taunting Cortez close enough to knock over. I couldn’t see where the gun was aimed, but I knew if I knocked it out of his hand or distracted him, Nero and Davien would have a higher chance of stopping him. Getting shot myself hadn’t occurred to me until after the fact, after Davien was breaking the cuffs and pulling me into his arms.