Kill for You (Warrior for Her #2)

Chapter Seven

Octavio

" I need a favor," I tell Eric Franklin—my captain—early the next morning, pacing back and forth across the living room while I wait for Faith to get ready to go next door to meet Mila and Luke.

"Octavio?" Franklin asks like he isn't sure who he's talking to even though I know he does.

My eyes narrow at his shocked tone. I'm not the kind of person who asks for favors often. Most things, I prefer to take care of myself. I find that tasks get done properly if I do them myself. Maybe that makes me a controlling bastard, but it is what it is. I'd do this myself if I could, but I'm already up to my ears in things to do. I'd appreciate him not being a dick about it.

"What do you need, son?" he asks, sobering when I don't say anything.

"I need you to get me anything you can find on Faith Donovan's parents."

"What do you have on them so far?"

"Not much," I admit, casting a quick glance toward the hall to make sure she's still out of earshot and then dropping my voice to a soft murmur anyway. "Her mother was an alcoholic by the name of Carmen. She's approximately forty to forty-five years of age, of Puerto Rican and Eastern European descent, likely Russian."

"Her father?"

"His first name was Theo. Possibly biracial. He died fifteen years ago."

"Were they married?"

"Not as far as Faith knows."

"Is Donovan his last name or hers?"

"Faith says it’s hers, but she doesn’t know if it’s legitimate," I admit ruefully. "It could be an alias. Faith doesn't know her father's last name."

Captain Franklin is quiet for a moment like he's writing all this down. "Do we know if her mother was born here or if she immigrated?"

"I believe she was born here, but Faith isn't able to confirm."

He sighs. "This isn't a lot to go on, O."

"I know, but she can't tell me much more than that." I grimace at the memory of asking her for even that much this morning. She slept soundly in my arms all night, barely moving. When she woke this morning, she was quiet, but didn't seem in a big hurry to get away from me. She looked so sleepy and sweet, her honey eyes soft and warm. Until I asked about her mother, anyway. As soon as I brought her up, the warm light in Faith's eyes winked out and she shut down, pulling away.

Captain Franklin sighs again, the sound crackling like static on the line. "I'll put someone on it for you, but I'm not making any promises we'll find anything useful."

"Anything would help."

"You think her mother was involved with Tarasova’s operation?"

"Not sure," I mutter. When Faith started to shut down, I backed off, worried I'd push too far, and she'd shut down completely. I want her to open up because she trusts me, not because I force her into it.

"You going to tell me why you need this info then?"

"No."

He barks laughter. "Fine, but it better not come back to bite me in the ass, Hernandez."

"It won't," I tell him, though I'm not sure if I'm being honest or not. I'm not sure what I'm going to do with any information I find. What I want to do is hunt her mother down and haul her in on charges of child abuse, neglect, and abandonment, but the statute of limitations on most of those charges has expired. If we find her, I'll figure out a way to ensure she doesn't simply get away with what she did to Faith. Making sure she suffers will be my personal mission in life.

"I need you at a debriefing on the bar shooting at eleven."

"Can't it wait? I have things I need to get done today." I glance at the clock on the entertainment center. It's a few minutes before eight. I planned to spend the morning with Faith after introducing her next door. I want to talk to her about what she's going through, try to get her in to see someone who can help if she's willing.

"No can do," Franklin says. "The media is foaming at the mouth for an update on the situation. We get to deliver what we know to the brass so they can take it to the press tomorrow."

"Fuck," I curse. "Fine, I'll be there."

"You better."

"I said I'd be there," I snap at him. "Have I ever not been where I said I'd be?"

His silence is deafening.

"I gotta go," I mutter when Faith steps out into the living room, looking at me uncertainly.

"We'll talk," he says, and I know damn well he means we're going to talk about why I'm snapping at him. He lets most things roll off his back, but I've never been a problem for him before. My entire career, I've done what I was hired to do and didn't make waves. Right up until a honey-eyed angel walked into my life anyway.

I hang up, shoving my phone in my pocket.

"I'm ready," Faith says, her tongue dancing across her bottom lip as she eyes me warily from across the room. She looks beautiful today. Her hair hangs in waves down to her lower back. Her eyes are less shadowed beneath and seem even wider than normal. She's in an oversized hoodie and yoga pants. Eating regularly has been good for her. She's still tiny, but she's gained a few pounds, and her face is filling out.

She needs to eat more though. She barely ate anything yesterday.

"Do you want something to eat before we go?" I ask.

She shakes her head, taking a couple more steps into the room. "No thanks," she mumbles, looking everywhere but directly at me. She wraps her arms around herself. "Can we go now?"

"Yeah," I say with a sigh. "Let's go."

She shuffles to the door and then waits patiently for me to disarm the alarm. Before she can step outside, I place a hand on her arm.

"Look at me, Faith," I order when she immediately pulls away.

She sighs like I'm annoying her and looks up at me, her face set in stubborn, mulish lines. "What?" she mumbles, her gaze lingering near my jawline instead of meeting mine.

I tip her chin up by placing my hand on the side of her neck and tilting her head, forcing her to look at me. "I promise you that I won't allow anyone else to hurt you, conejita . I know you're afraid, but you'll be as safe with Luke and Roman as you are with me."

"Okay," she whispers, pulling away again. She takes a few steps to the side before turning back to look at me, her expression carefully blank. Even then, I see the chinks in her armor…the way her lower lip trembles and her pupils dilate. She's so goddamn afraid but doesn't want me to know it.

"Can we go now?"

"Yeah, we can go," I say, battling back the frustration seething through me as she walks down the front steps. I engage the alarm and lock the front door before jogging down to meet her. I stick close to her side as we walk the short distance across the yard to Roman's. Every time I close the distance between us, she edges over a couple of inches, until she's walking in the grass to avoid touching me. It's wet with dew and sticks to the bottoms of her pant legs.

Luke's Durango is parked beside Roman's truck in the driveway.

"Not that way," I say, stopping her when she heads toward the front door.

She looks over at me.

"We'll go in through the back," I explain, following the footpath around to the gate and then into the backyard. His front door is on the opposite side of his house. The door to the kitchen is closer.

Like my house, Roman's is a single-story ranch with a large fenced yard and an in-ground pool.

"Do you swim?" I ask Faith.

She turns wide eyes on me and shakes her head.

"I'll teach you."

Her eyes narrow with suspicion.

I pretend not to notice and rap on the door.

"It's open!" Roman yells from inside, making Faith jump.

"Easy, conejita ," I croon, reaching out to touch her hand. "It's okay. I'm right here."

She shoves her hands in the pockets of her hoodie, not responding.

I bite back a frustrated curse. Maybe dragging her into my bed last night was too much. I wanted to help, but instead, I think I may have eroded a little more of the trust between us. Every time I touch her now, she moves away like she can't stand feeling my hands on her.

It's driving me fucking crazy. Especially because all I want is to keep my hands on her. I barely slept all night. I was too goddamn hard to sleep. Does she know? Is that why she's trying like hell to avoid me this morning?

Cristo, I hope not.

I push the door open, holding it for her.

She ducks under my arm, her hair partially obscuring her face.

Luke, Roman, and Mila are seated at the table, platters of food spread across the top. They all turn to us, Mila and Roman smiling in welcome. Even though he's seated, it's hard not to notice how massive Roman is, especially compared to his fiancée. Mila's a short, curvy blonde with an obvious baby bump. It's also hard to miss the enamored way Roman looks at her. His penetrating blue eyes soften when they fall on her, making him look like a tamed wild animal. The love they share is written across their faces for anyone to see. Every time she looks at him, her green eyes light up and she smiles. His lips curve upward in response, like he can't help but smile back at her.

Luke is more reserved, his expression stoic. He's about my size, with dark hair and green eyes. From what little I know about him, women love him, but he doesn't have a reputation for sleeping around like a lot of cops. Like me, he's dedicated to his job. He's dressed in jeans and a T-shirt, one elbow on the table. He meets my gaze and jerks his chin in a nod before his eyes run over Faith. There's something wild in him, some darkness he keeps carefully caged. When he looks at Faith though, his expression softens. He doesn't look at her with desire, but like he recognizes that she needs to be handled with care.

Faith stays glued to my side as we walk forward to greet them.

"Luke, Mila, this is Faith," I murmur, introducing her. "Faith, this is Luke Santiago and Mila Lawson, Roman's fiancée."

"Hi, Faith," Mila says, her soft voice full of genuine welcome.

"It's nice to see you again, Faith," Roman murmurs like he's trying to put her at ease.

"Hi," she mumbles and then her gaze bounces to Luke. I see her do a head-to-toe sweep before she looks up at me, her eyes wide. "Are all your friends giants?" she asks.

The corner of my lip tilts upward in amusement. Compared to her, I guess we probably do look like giants. She's maybe five-three and severely underweight thanks to the pricks who starved her. Luke is as big as I am, and Roman is colossal by anyone's standards.

Roman chuckles, which makes Faith flush with embarrassment.

"I ask Roman the same thing all the time, but they're not as scary as they look," Mila promises her, smiling in encouragement. "These three are gentle giants."

Faith's gaze bounces around the room again. "If you say so," she says, doubt clear as bells in that lilting voice. She locks her fingers together like she's nervous, and then forcibly stops herself. Her shoulders go back, her chin coming up. She blinks and her uncertain expression falls away, replaced with careful blankness.

The sight of it has me stepping closer to her.

When my arm brushes hers, she immediately takes a tiny step away, glancing at me like I'm annoying her. It's driving me insane that she keeps moving away from me when all I want is for her to move closer. I hate that she doesn't want me to touch her. She all but melted into my embrace last night, clinging to me like she was afraid I'd disappear if she let go. It's obvious she craves human touch, but for whatever reason, she's determined to deprive herself of it. I'm sure that's probably because the only touch she's ever had until now has been unkind, but I don't like it.

Cristo, I want her to crave my touch. I want her to run to me for comfort, to seek me out just because she wants to be held. I want her to want me in her personal space as badly as I want to be there. I'm walking a goddamn dangerous line with her, and I fucking know it. But even knowing it hasn't stopped me from shifting closer to the point of no return.

"Are you guys hungry? There's plenty," Mila says, pointing at all the dishes on the table.

"Do you want something, conejita ?" I ask, tipping my head down to look at Faith.

"No, thank you."

"You haven't eaten anything since yesterday afternoon."

"I'm not very hungry."

I sigh, but don't force her. Maybe once she feels a little more settled, she'll start eating again.

She watches as Mila reaches for Roman's hand, placing it on her belly. Her eyes light up, a small smile overtaking her face as she observes them. She takes another step away from me, which makes me scowl.

"Detective Hernandez says you're having a little girl," she says, ignoring me as I close that little bit of space between us. "Congratulations."

"Thank you."

"When are you due?" she asks, taking another step away from me.

?Jesucristo! She's driving me crazy.

"In mid-March," Mila says.

"Have you made any progress identifying Amato's other shooters?" Luke asks me a second later.

I continue to watch Faith for a moment before I shake my head and turn to Luke, resolving to talk to her later about why she's determined to keep me at arm's length.

"Not much," I growl to Luke, unable to keep my frustration from bleeding into my voice. "They're about as cooperative as you'd expect. Based on Faith's description and the few witnesses who have been willing to talk, I'm almost positive one of them is Rocky Casiano, but he either skipped town or went into hiding."

"Isn't Rocky one of those you, Tristan, and Kincaid hunted down a few days ago?" Luke asks Roman.

"Yep. I'm not surprised he skipped town. He's a little bitch."

"He'll turn up again sooner or later," I murmur, still watching Faith. "They usually do."

Organized crime groups may move, but they never really leave. They simply pick some new place to wreak their havoc, find some new way to terrorize innocent people. If Rocky Casiano doesn't return to the city, we'll find him somewhere else, doing the same things for another branch of the Amato Family that he did here.

"Truth," Luke mutters. "Though with Kincaid back in town, he might not resurface this time. They're all shitting bricks about him being here."

"Would you like to see the nursery?" Mila asks Faith.

I see her eyes dart in my direction like she's seeking permission before she looks at Mila again. I don't say anything, instead letting her decide for herself what she wants to do. She doesn't need my permission. Soon enough, she'll learn that when she's with me, she calls the shots. I will never let fear rule her, but I'll never make her do something she genuinely doesn't want to do.

Mila smiles at her in silent encouragement.

Faith hesitates for another moment and then her shoulders go back, and she nods. She may be leery, but she hasn't let it stop her yet. Since the beginning, she's been brave as hell, facing her fears when most others would have broken by now. I'm damn proud of her for that.

Roman picks Mila up and lowers her to the floor before running a fingertip across her cheek. She smiles at him and then crosses to Faith. I watch until they're out of sight, planting my feet to resist the urge to follow behind them. Faith needs to be able to do this on her own, and I think being around Mila will be good for her. There is nothing fake or untrustworthy about her. Faith could probably use a friend like her right now.

"How's she doing?" Roman asks, pitching his voice low to avoid them overhearing his question.

"Not great," I mutter. "Physically, she's healing. Mentally, she's a wreck. She's having nightmares. She's terrified out of her mind. I'm going to see about getting her in to see a therapist. Meant to do it this morning, but I have to be at a debriefing at eleven." I glance at Luke, sizing him up. "You willing to keep an eye on her for me?"

Luke nods.

"I mean no disrespect when I say this," I tell him quietly, "but you treat her with respect, or you'll answer to me. Do anything to hurt her, and I'll rip your throat out. Keep your distance and don't crowd her. Don't put your fucking hands on her. She's been through enough already."

Luke grits his teeth, but he doesn't tell me to fuck off. "Fair enough," he says instead. "Is there anything I need to know?"

"I'm serious about not putting your hands on her. She doesn't like to be touched, and men make her nervous." I scowl as soon as I say the words. "Rick Sanders certainly didn't help the situation."

"Little prick," Luke mutters, his expression twisting like he tasted something sour.

"Speaking of which," Roman says, and then takes a sip of coffee before continuing, "He's coming in this morning to turn in his gun and badge. He's off the Gang Unit. You want to be there to see it happen?"

"What time?"

"Finn told him to be there at ten."

I pull my phone out of my pocket and look at the time. It's almost eight thirty. I don't want to leave Faith so soon, but I really want to look Sanders in the eyes, see for myself that he's going to be taken care of like he should be. I want to be able to tell Faith that he's not going to be a problem for her any longer and mean it.

"Yeah," I decide. "I'll be there."

Roman gives me a chin lift before popping a piece of bacon in his mouth. "I'll meet you there. I've got about four thousand things I need to do today." He cocks his head to the side. "You need the name of a good therapist for her, brother? I can give you the info for the shrink we keep on retainer. Finn made me see him after Guerrero shot Mila." He scowls around his bacon, though whether he's scowling about the therapist or about Guerrero hurting Mila, I don't know.

"Nah, I've got it handled." I glance over at Luke. "You have my number?"

"Yeah, Roman gave it to me."

"Text yours to me. I should be back early this afternoon, but if she needs anything or has any issues, you call me. And I'm serious, man. Don't even think about touching her or we're going to have problems."

"I know how to keep my hands to myself, Octavio. She'll be safe with me."

"She better be," I mutter without heat. If Roman trusts him, so do I. But I'm still worried about leaving her when she's been jumpy all morning and I don't know why. Unfortunately, I don't have time to get to the bottom of it right now, either.

"I'm going to go let her know what's up," I mutter to Luke and Roman.

"I'll go with you," Roman says, standing up.

I turn and stride down the hall with him right behind me, following the soft murmur of Mila and Faith's voices as they talk back and forth.

"Roman worries about me, so I'm on lockdown, too. I could use a friend, and I think you could too…I mean, if you'd like," I hear Mila say as we near the door to the nursery.

I slow my steps, waiting to hear how Faith responds.

She hesitates for a long moment and then I hear her whisper, "I'd like that."

I pop my head in the door, my gaze going straight to her. She and Mila are standing in front of the crib, facing one another. Faith turns in my direction, her eyes coming to me as if she senses me there. Her entire body relaxes for a moment, her expression softening. Before I can even react, she jerks like she remembers she's mad at me or keeping her distance or whatever the hell she's been doing all morning. The lights in her eyes dim, her body going rigid. Something damn close to sadness passes through those honey-brown eyes and then she curls her hands into fists.

The sight makes my fucking heart ache. She's so used to being abused that she doesn't even trust herself or her own judgement. That's intolerable to me, something I plan to remedy as soon as possible. She has killer instincts. She needs to learn to trust them.

"Something's come up. I have to go, angel," I tell her, speaking quietly. "Will you be okay here?"

"I'll be fine," she murmurs, her tone as flat as it's been all morning.

"Call me if you need anything."

"I'll be fine," she says again.

"Call me, Faith. I mean it."

"I can't call you."

My brows furrow. "Why the fuck not?"

"I don't own a phone, Detective Hernandez," she huffs, narrowing her eyes on me. Her cheeks heat with embarrassment. She flashes me a glare that says she'd set me on fire if she could do it, and then stomps out of the room, circling wide to avoid me.

"Fuck," I growl, squeezing my eyes closed as frustration runs through me. I pop them open again almost immediately, pinning Mila with a hard stare. "If she needs anything, call me. I'll get her a phone today."

"She can use mine anytime," Mila promises, giving me a sympathetic smile.

I should have gotten Faith a phone already, but didn't think about the fact that she doesn't have one. Even if Tarasova had given her that kind of freedom, it would have been taken from her the minute she entered protective custody. And quite frankly, after what she's told me about him, I doubt he gave her much of anything but pain and grief.

"I'll get her a phone today," I mutter again and then duck out of the room to see her lingering at the end of the hall, her eyes downcast and her expression defeated. "Faith."

She glances up at me. The watery sheen in her eyes takes my breath away. My frustration dies, unable to stand in the face of her distress.

"I'm sorry," I murmur, closing the distance between us. "I didn't mean to embarrass you or hurt your feelings."

"It's fine," she says.

"It's not fine," I disagree, reaching out to cup her jaw. She tenses but doesn't pull away. "I don't like it when you're angry with me."

"I'm not angry with you."

"You've been angry all morning, conejita ."

"I shouldn't sleep in your bed, Octavio," she blurts, distress running through her gaze again. "It's a bad idea."

"Why?"

"I…it just is," she mumbles, glancing away from me.

"Did it make you uncomfortable?" I stroke her jaw, determined to sort this out here and now.

"N-no."

"You liked it," I guess, cupping her cheek when my dick throbs. Cristo, I shouldn't like knowing that so goddamn much. And yet I do.

"It doesn't matter," she mumbles. "It's a bad idea, Octavio."

She's probably right about that, but I don't really fucking care. She liked being in my arms, and that's what matters. She felt safe with me. And now, she doesn't know what to do or how to feel. Relationships aren't new to her. The whole goddamn world is.

"Would you do something for me?" I ask instead of arguing with her.

"What?" she whispers, staring up at me. Her honey-brown eyes are bright as she searches my face. A little hint of desire peeks out at me again, along with a lot of wariness.

Even seeing the wariness in her gaze, I have to fight the urge to lean down and press my lips to hers. I desperately want to know if they're as soft as they look, if she tastes as good as I imagine she does.

Dios. She's too beautiful.

I run my thumb over her bottom lip, unable to stop myself. It's as soft as I thought it would be. Softer, perhaps. I take a small step back, trying to put distance between us before I push her further than she's ready to go. As much as I want it…she isn't ready.

Cristo, she's nowhere near ready.

"What?" she whispers again.

"If I find you someone to talk to about what you've been through, would you talk to them?"

"You mean like a shrink?" she asks. Her tongue darts out to lick her bottom lip, but I'm not sure if it's simple nervousness like normal or if she's trying to taste me. The thought that it might be the latter has my jeans growing uncomfortably tight as my dick reacts.

"Yes. We have one on staff. I think talking to her would be good for you," I suggest, but don't push. She needs to make this decision herself. Forcing her to talk to someone won't get me anywhere but frozen out. And, as I've recently discovered, I don't much care for when she isn't talking to me.

She eyes me for a moment, clearly torn.

"She won't tell anyone what you reveal to her, Faith. Not even me."

"Okay," she whispers after another brief hesitation, biting into her bottom lip. "I'll try it."

"Yeah?"

She nods.

Pride flows through me again, pulling a smile to my lips. And then I have to shove my hands into my pockets to keep from reaching for her. "Are you sure you'll be okay here today?"

"I'll be fine," she says, wrapping her arms around herself like she's cold. "I like Mila."

"That's very good," I murmur, relieved to hear that. "If you need anything at all, you call me, okay?"

"I will," she promises.

"I'll be back as soon as I can."

She nods and then reaches out to touch my arm before I can walk away. I stop and turn back to her, shocked that she touched me on her own. I can count on one hand how many times she's touched me of her own volition…and every single time has been while she was obviously in distress. This time is different. She didn't reach for me out of fear. She did it simply because she wanted to touch me, wanted my attention.

I shove my hands deeper into my pockets, fighting like hell not to back her up against the wall to kiss her senseless.

"Thank you, Octavio," she whispers, slowly dropping her arm back to her side. "For everything."

" Es mi placer, conejita ," I murmur, my voice a gritty rasp. Taking care of her is my pleasure. " Te veré pronto ."

"See you soon," she whispers back.

"This is such bullshit," Rick Sanders growls, glaring balefully at Roman and Finn Bethel as he removes his gun from the holster on his hip and drops it carelessly onto Finn's desk. "She fucking wanted it."

I growl, taking a step in his direction as the desire to slam my fist into his face rushes through me. As if sensing how close to the edge I am, Roman throws his arm out, blocking my path. Which is probably for the best. Breaking the little bastard's jaw in Finn Bethel's office probably won't win me any favors.

Finn is a hardass who doesn't pull punches. He's been over the ATF's gang unit and SWAT team for over a decade. He's damn good at his job and expects a lot of his men. He doesn't take shit from anyone. I have a lot of respect for him. Jeopardizing my working relationship with him over Sanders, especially after Finn has gone above and beyond to help stop the gang war and violence in the city, doesn't appeal to me.

Sanders is another story, though. Any respect I might have had for him—and I had very little to begin with—died the instant he put his hands on Faith. Knocking him down a couple of pegs is all too appealing.

"She screamed for you to stop, kneed you in the balls, and locked herself in a fucking bedroom," I snap at him, barely concealed rage in my tone. "She didn't want a goddamn thing, Sanders."

"Whatever, man," he snaps, clenching his jaw. "You weren't there."

"You're right," Roman says, his voice lethally soft. "He wasn't there, but Gunner was. He saw what happened. You backed a witness into a corner and tried to force yourself on her. She asked you repeatedly to stop, but you refused until Gunner interrupted you. She kneed you in the balls and fled in tears. She didn't want a damn thing. And even if she had wanted it, as you claim, you'd still be off the Gang Unit for trying to hook up with a witness."

A stab of guilt twists in my stomach at Roman's words. He's right. Pursuing her while she's in custody is wrong. I'm nothing like Sanders…but what does it say about me that I can't seem to keep my hands to myself where she's concerned?

Sanders opens his mouth to spew God only knows what.

"If I were you," Finn barks, his dark eyes full of warning, "I'd shut the fuck up while you're ahead. You can plead your case with Internal Affairs and hope they let you keep your job, but as of right now, you're off my unit. There is no room on this task force for cops like you, Sanders."

Sanders turns a baleful glare on Roman and then on me, hatred in his blue eyes. His hands clench as if he wants to take a swing. I almost wish he would. The way I'm feeling right now, I'd have no problem laying him out. It's bad enough that he backed her into a corner and put his hands on her. For him to now act like he's the victim has my blood boiling.

He doesn't say anything and doesn't take a swing. Instead, he tosses his badge on the desk beside his gun and then storms out of the office. The door slams so hard behind him that it rattles the windowpanes.

"Little prick," Finn mutters, picking up the weapon to check it over. Once he's done, he turns an apologetic look in my direction. "I apologize for his behavior, Hernandez. I can assure you; he won't have a job when we're finished with him."

I jerk my head in a nod, not sure I trust myself to respond yet.

"I checked into putting someone else on her detail, but the big wigs don't want to approve it. Unless she gives us something solid soon, they want us to cut her loose," he says.

"Cut her loose," I reply, trying not to take my frustration out on him. "Whatever progress I'd made with her, Sanders blew. If we can get her to talk now, I'll let you know. Until then, I'll be keeping an eye on her."

"Are you sure you don't want to put someone else on her?" Finn asks.

"Even if you could manage it, she's scared enough already. Locking her up with someone else she doesn't know won't help her learn to trust me."

"Luke and Mila are going to help us keep an eye on her," Roman tells his boss and longtime friend.

"She's okay with this?" Finn glances between the two of us.

"She's not okay with any of it, but it is what it is. At least this way, she isn't alone with someone like Sanders." I glance at my phone to check the time. "You need anything from me? I've got a debriefing in half an hour."

"You're good." Finn waves me off. "I'll let you know if IA needs to speak with you."

I nod, bump Roman's fist, and then head out of the office, walking quickly to catch up to Sanders. By the time I make it to the parking garage without seeing him, I've almost given up on running into him. But as I stalk toward my Tahoe, I spot him a couple of rows over, unloading equipment from a black Dodge.

"Sanders!" I yell, storming in his direction.

He glances up at me. A dark scowl overtakes his face when he realizes it's me.

I stop a couple feet from him, anger boiling like lava through my veins.

"What the fuck do you want, Hernandez?" he snaps at me, crossing his arms. He plants his feet like he thinks I'm going to be intimidated. I'm not. He's a good three inches shorter and thirty pounds lighter than I am. He may be SWAT, but I grew up smashing through guys on a football field, and then did the same in college. I've stayed in shape since. I could take him easily.

"Come near Faith again, and I'll kill you," I tell him.

"What?" he says and then smirks, though there's nothing but malice in his expression. "You mad because I got there first?"

"You didn't get anywhere except on the fast track to losing your badge," I remind him, striving not to lose my temper.

His smirk slips, his confidence waning.

"Stay away from her and keep her fucking name out of your mouth. You assaulted her, and you know it. You're a disgrace, Sanders. She'll never want someone like you, and you can't stand it."

"You think she wants you?" He barks laughter, shaking his head. "She's a Bratva whore, Hernandez. Once she gets what she wants from you, she'll go running back to Tarasova. Or did you think it was coincidence that she latched onto the man responsible for investigating the shooting?"

" Pinche idiota ," I growl, shoving him up against the side of his SUV. I shove my face into his, snarling softly as rage courses through me. Faith isn't a whore, and she damn sure isn't going to go running back to Tarasova. She didn't latch onto me, either. I'm the one who approached her. I'm the one who convinced her to help. And as much as I hate to admit it, I don't think she would have agreed if she felt like she had any other viable option.

"You're delusional, Sanders," I snap. "You're lashing out at her because you can't take responsibility for your fucking bullshit, and don't have the balls to face the fact that she doesn't want you." My lip curls in disgust as I keep him pinned against the side of his SUV with my arm across his throat. Men like him never can face it when they discover they aren't God's gift to womankind. They're little boys playing at being men, and just like little boys, they throw fucking tantrums when things don't go their way.

"Come near her again, and I will kill you," I warn him again and then release him, stepping back

"Fuck you, Hernandez," he rasps, glaring at me balefully.

"You aren't my type either, motherfucker," I say, walking away before I do something I'm not entirely sure I'll regret.

" Mierda ," I mutter, flopping onto my back to glare up at the ceiling. Despite spending two hours in the gym at work while Faith talked to Dr. Shapiro this afternoon, I can't seem to settle enough to sleep. Every time I close my eyes, I start to worry that she's huddled on the closet floor, too afraid to close her eyes. It's making me crazy.

I want her in my bed with me.

But Roman was right today. Even if Faith had asked for Sanders to touch her—and we all know she didn't—she was in his care. That alone would have gotten him suspended for abusing his authority…and I've come perilously close to doing the same damn thing myself. I want her more than I imagined possible, but that doesn't make it right.

I'm still a cop. She's still a witness…one who is completely dependent on me right now.

"Fuck," I growl, yanking my pillow out from underneath my head. I've been telling myself the same damn thing all day, and it hasn't made a bit of difference. All I managed to do was upset Faith by snapping at her when she barely touched her dinner. She looked so sad when she left the table and went to her room. Talking to the shrink today couldn't have been easy, and I probably made her feel a thousand times worse.

Is she in there now, crying because I was a dick to her?

Is she afraid to go to sleep?

"Dammit." I jackknife up from the bed, scrub a hand through my hair, and then rattle off a string of curses before stomping toward the door. I barely stop long enough to tap on her door before I'm pushing it open. My heart cracks at the sight of her curled up on the closet floor in a miserable little ball.

"Octavio?" she whispers, blinking up at me. Even though the only light in the room comes from the hall, I can see that's she's been crying. Her eyes are puffy and red-rimmed, the honey color washed out and dull.

Guilt tears through me, burning like acid in my stomach.

To hell with right and wrong. And to hell with this job. I'm not going to let her suffer like this when I know how to help soothe her. She needs my arms around her. She needs me, goddammit.

My mind made up, I stalk across the room to her.

"Octavio?" she says again, less certainly this time.

"You sleep in my room now, conejita ," I mutter, bending down to lift her easily from the floor. "So long as you're afraid to close your eyes, you sleep with me."

"Okay," she whispers, not fighting me for once. Her arms go around my neck, her head against my shoulder.

I stomp out of the room with her in my arms, and back into my own. As soon as I lay her in the bed and climb in beside her, she curls around me with a sweet little sigh. Her head lands against my chest, one arm sliding across my torso. My entire body relaxes, all the tension from the day draining away. Fire sizzles everywhere she touches me, but I shove it away as ruthlessly as possible, cramming it down into a little box.

She isn't ready for what I want yet. She may not ever be.

"I thought you were angry with me," she says, her sweet breath blowing across my chest.

"No, angel. I'm not mad at you." I slide a hand into her hair. It's as soft as the rest of her. "I'm worried about you. You don't eat enough. I don't want you to end up back in the hospital."

"I'm not used to eating very much."

"Why?" I already know the answer, but I want her to tell me.

She hesitates for a moment, tensing slightly.

"You don't have to tell me." I want her to trust me with her pain, though.

"I cooked for Nikolai and a few of his men, but I was only allowed to eat when they were finished, and only what was left," she says after a moment. "One of Nikolai's men, Ivan Sedov, would go out of his way to ensure I had as little as possible. Frequently, that meant I got nothing."

That fucking prick. A growl rumbles in my chest before I can stop it as rage courses through me in a black cloud. I commit Ivan Sedov's name to memory, determined to look into him later.

"Nikolai wouldn't let him have me, and he didn't like that. I think he controlled what I ate as punishment. It was one way he could hurt me without crossing Nikolai." She sighs softly. "I hate him. He's an overgrown bully."

I clutch her tighter to me, running a hand from her hair down her back and then up again, trying to soothe her. "You can eat whatever you want, whenever you want. I'll never tell you no."

"Okay," she whispers again, sounding like she's half asleep.

I want to ask her more about this Sedov, but don't. It can wait until later. "Sleep now, little bunny," I whisper. "I'll keep you safe."

Within moments, she's sleeping peacefully, her breaths coming as cute little puffs of sound against my chest. I lie awake for a long time, staring up at the ceiling. I'm not restless anymore though. With her in my arms, I feel more peaceful than I have all day long. That doesn't worry me nearly as much as it should.

A week ago, she was a cartel slave, held captive by a fucking monster. And she's counting on me to set her free.

Can I do it? Fucking hell. Do I have a choice?

I made a promise to her. I can't break it now.

"Octavio," she whispers in her sleep, snuggling closer.

I squeeze my eyes closed, my heart pulsing as she steals every little piece of it. If loving her means letting her go…I can't do it. I fucking can't. Not when it feels like this is where she belongs.

"Fuck," I mutter, not sure how the hell I'm supposed to pull myself back from the edge now. Not sure if it's even possible. I've already crossed too many lines, gotten in too deep. And I don't want to stop now.