6. Vito
Vito
P ulling into the Blue Heights’ parking lot, the drizzle of rain now gone, but with the sun shining, rainbows span the sky everywhere, making me think of Stella.
I don’t know why; I just know this is something that would put a smile on her full lips, like she’d won the lottery.
Sun showers have always been my favorite part of Florida weather, and after last night’s bloodbath, it’s a welcome sight.
Bishop sent me word this morning that no one is the wiser of what we did, including his family. How long they think they can keep them in the dark is beyond me, but it’s not my problem. As long as I stay clean, there’s no reason for me to worry.
Stella is my focus now. Today is the day I’ll finally convince her to give me her number and take her on a date. And get myself inside her sweet little body from every day forward.
Approaching the building, I stop cold when I see blood on the door handle.
Drawing my Glock, I take a quick second to surveil the area and notice more blood splattered on one of the front windows.
My gut drops because I know whatever I’m about to walk into will not be good.
Whoever did it had better hope they run far and fast because I swear to fucking god, if Stella is hurt, I’ll slaughter them.
Taking a deep breath, I shove all emotion from my mind and yank the door open. Thankfully, the bell is still broken. Chet hasn’t fixed it yet after firing some asshole who stormed out and nearly took the door off its hinges, breaking the chime on his way out.
Entering the building, I find Chet in the opening to the kitchen, flat on his back, with blood pumping slowly from a belly wound. Martha is in the kitchen, pressing a hand to a shoulder wound.
Her eyes raise to meet mine, and she says, “They’re gone.” She doesn’t sound good. “I called for help, but the cops are fucking taking their sweet time.”
Crouching down, I feel for a pulse in Chet’s throat and freeze at a new sight. Behind the counter are two female bodies and more blood than anyone could survive losing.
“You know who did this?” I ask Martha as I move to the women.
“Some friends of Reggie’s.” The asshole who broke the bell.
“One family ran out. Haven’t seen the other one that was here.
” She coughs, and from the wheezing, I think she might have a collapsed lung.
“Don’t know about my girls either.” The sorrow in her tone tells me more than I’d like. Martha believes they’re all dead.
The first body is Taylor; the back of her head has exploded from the shot that killed her. Brain matter and blood lay everywhere. Under her is another girl, and from the distinct strawberry-blond hair, soaked in Taylor’s blood, I recognize that it’s my Stella.
Pushing the body off her, I glimpse slight movement in her back, indicating that she’s alive at least. I nearly wilt with relief. Trusting Martha’s word that the intruders are gone, I holster my weapon and reach for Stella.
Running my hands up the back of her body, she doesn’t rustle as I check for wounds. So far, I believe the blood might just be Taylor’s, but I won’t know until I flip her over.
“Stella, it’s me. I’m turning you over now.” I don’t want her to freak out, thinking it’s the killers trying to hurt her. “Please be okay,” I mutter, placing my hands on her hips and slowly rolling her over.
The sheer amount of blood staining her clothes, face, and hair is alarming as hell and makes me wince. My hands continue to feel for wounds, remaining detached and calculated while checking her over. I don’t find anything obvious, but that doesn’t mean they aren’t there.
Sirens are finally heard, and Martha is in the kitchen cursing up a storm about it. Stella’s pulse seems steady and strong, so I don’t think she was hit. More than likely, she passed out from the terror of death.
Scooping her up in my arms, I place her on the counter so I can keep my eye on her while checking on everyone else.
As I walk around to the front, I see the booth where a family was eating, and I can tell they took off.
There’s no blood, so hopefully they’re not hurt.
Another booth, the one by the window that caught my attention, tells a different tale.
Three bodies sit slumped over. An older couple with a friend, maybe. All are dead—no signs of life in their open eyes.
“Christ almighty. What the fuck happened here?” Talking to myself, I move over to where Leslie also lies dead, and Tanner is hiding under a table, holding a hand to a leg wound.
“You want to come out?” He shakes his head.
The boy isn’t even eighteen yet; having this happen is going to fuck him up.
“Call your folks.” I toss him my phone after unlocking it. He nods and shakily does what I say.
Screeching tires signal the authorities' arrival. I stand up, keeping my hands raised as I make my way back over to Stella, still out cold on the counter. A dozen or more officers rush in, weapons drawn, as ambulances roll in behind them.
“Hands! Let me see your hands!” the first cop yells at Martha and me as we’re already standing with our hands raised.
“Someone got a whack with the special stick, didn’t they?
” I find Martha’s droll comment amusing.
“I’m the owner, this here is a customer.
The robbers are gone. Fifteen fucking minutes is kind of stupid.
We got people dying here!” The mix of rage, fear, and sadness is palpable. “Get those doctors in here stat!”
“They’re EMTs,” the cop grumbles, annoyed at being scolded as the paramedics come rushing in.
“Her, the man down there, and there’s a boy under the table, afraid to come out,” I inform them.
“What about her?” one of them asks, pointing at Stella.
Turning around, I place a hand on her cheek, brushing my thumb on her soft skin. “Nothing visible, but she needs to be seen either way.”
Everything happens in slow motion, yet also at warp speed. Martha, Chet, and Tanner are taken away first. I’m questioned until another ambulance arrives for Stella, who still hasn’t woken up, and by the time we’re sent on our way, half the day is gone. Or it feels like it, anyway.
“Sir, how do you know the victim?” a nurse at the hospital asks for the third time.
“Fiancé,” I mutter, watching as they roll her body into a trauma room.
Her co-workers are in other areas for the more critical patients. While the bodies of the dead remain at the diner.
“What’s her name?” the nurse asks.
“Stella Jade. DOB is 07/12/04. No allergies, not taking any medications. Someone needs to call her mom, Claudia. She’ll be freaked out.” It’s all mechanical, knowing almost everything about Stella by heart now. I’ve studied her for so long. Planned to make her mine from the day my eyes set on her.
“We can make that call,” she offers.
Fuck, it feels like the wind was knocked out of me. I wasn’t prepared for this today. “Yeah, I’d appreciate that,” I reply, signing the forms she hands me. I don’t even read them. “Can I see her?”
“In a few minutes.” Her hand rests on my bicep in comfort. “Just wait here.” She pushes through the doors while I watch through the window as Stella’s clothes are cut away to determine if she has any injuries.
Placing an IV in her arm, they pump her with fluids, checking her eyes, her pulse, and an ultrasound is taken. She’s pushed, rolled, and poked until they clear her of any physical injuries. Which means her lack of consciousness is psychological.
Stella witnessed two of her friends being murdered. Laid under one of their bodies, in her blood for who knows how long. Feared for her life and likely thought she would never see her mom again.
“I’ll fucking kill them both,” I snarl, a nurse raising her brow as she passes by.
“Mr.…” The nurse from before opens a door.
“Vito Ruelle.”
“Mr. Ruelle, you can come in now.” Nodding, I follow behind her, the sounds of monitors and our steps the only sounds. “She’s stable. We can’t find any physical injuries, so we believe the blood was from one of the other victims.”
“Taylor. She’s dead.” The nurse nods in understanding and explains that it’s a matter of waiting for Stella to wake up. “I can stay?” I ask.
“Yes. I’ve placed a call to her mother. She’s on her way now.”
I thank her, and she leaves me alone to stare down at Stella in her hospital gown—pale, fragile, weak. But she’s not weak; I know she’s not. Stella is so fucking strong, and she’ll come out of this, and I’ll be by her side every step of the way.
Dragging over a stool, I sit next to her bed and grip her hand, bringing it to my lips and gently kissing each knuckle.
“Come on, sugar, wake up for Daddy.” The title slips out with ease, and the rightness constricts my chest. My lips roam around her hand, kissing the tips of each finger, the inside of her wrist, her palm.
Holding her to my face, my eyes close, and our lives flash before my eyes.
Love, laughter, family, and as many kids as I can put in her. None of that will happen, though, if she doesn’t wake up. She will. That inner voice rears its head.
I’m not the kind of man who entertains doubt, who feels fear. Not ordinarily. But Stella calls to a different side of myself, and I don’t know if I like it very much. It’s too vulnerable. Too exposing.
“You.” Her soft voice stuns me until my eyes slowly lift to catch her beautiful, icy stare watching me.
“Sugar.” I rise to my feet, leaning over her bed and dropping a light kiss on her lips. My first taste, and it’s fucking magnificent.
“What are you doing here?” Her puzzlement isn’t surprising; we don’t know each other. Not really.
“I found you. It nearly killed me to see you covered in so much blood. I don’t think I’ll ever get that image out of my head.”
Tears pool in her eyes, and a sorrowful sob breaks from her body. Without hesitation, I lie on the bed with her and hold her tight in my arms as she breaks down while the scene replays through her mind.
“You don’t even know me,” she hiccups into my chest, her warm breath heating me up in all the ways I shouldn’t be right now.
“I know plenty about you, sugar, and once you’re released, Daddy is taking you home and caring for you.”
Her head pops up to stare at my face as she processes what I’ve said. Sagging into me again, she nods and begins breathing easier.
“Have to tell you something, Stella,” I say when I spot her mom with a nurse, coming down the hallway towards us.
“What?” Our lips brush as she looks up and I look down. Savoring the touch I’m quickly becoming addicted to.
“I told them I was your fiancé.” A bubble of laughter puffs from between her lips.
“You’re serious.” I give her a sharp nod. “I don’t even know your name.”
“Vito Ruelle. I’m thirty-eight years old, born and raised in Florida. I live on Woodlawn Beach, and I’ve been coming to that diner for so damn long because I’ve wanted your attention.”
Her eyes widen slightly before she rests her head on my chest once again. “Hold me tighter…Daddy.” It’s just a flit of air, barely a sound, but my body ignites, and my dick pounds beneath the fly of my jeans.
“Oh! Miss Jade, you’re awake. How wonderful. Your mother is here too. I’ll fetch the doctor.” The nurse is too perky for my liking, but she’s gone in a flash.
“Stella, sweetheart.” Her mom breaks down in tears at seeing her only child in such a situation.
Slipping from the bed, I make room for Claudia to hug her daughter as they whisper to each other. After a couple of minutes, they pull apart, and her mom stares me up and down. Sizing up my worth, and I don’t blame her a damn bit.
“So, you’re him, are you?” Claudia crosses her arms and stands between us, her action protective.
“I am.” Uncertain if Stella has spoken about me, or just explained what I told her, my girl keeps quiet.
“You think you can handle my daughter? Her hopes and dreams?” The woman’s chin raises in challenge.
“If she’ll let me, yeah. I know I can.” Christ , this is not what I was expecting.
“Good. Because I did a crappy job, and she deserves the world.” Her strained tone is palpable as she admonishes herself.
“Mom, don’t say that.” Stella’s delicate hand rests on the older woman’s elbow.
Claudia waves her off, refusing to be placated. “I expect you to enhance her life, not drag her down. How do you plan on doing that?”
I guess we’re really getting into it now.
“Support her through graduation, counseling from today if she wants, though I’ll insist because I think it’ll help.
” Claudia raises a brow like she’s asking what else.
“I have a house on the beach that she can make her own, or I’ll buy her a house somewhere else if she doesn’t like it. ”
“Kids? Marriage?”
“I want both, but only when she’s ready.” That’s a lie. I want them immediately. Which might be seen as selfish on my part.
“You say the right things, but do you mean them?” I don’t get a chance to respond as the doctor enters with the police detectives from the scene.
“Glad to see you’re awake, Miss Jade. How are you feeling?
” The doctor checks her vitals and asks her a few questions about the incident—what she remembers, whether she feels pain anywhere.
Then the detectives cut in with their own inquiries, and the more they speak, the more I see Stella shutting down, which I don’t fucking like one bit.
“I think that’s enough.” Everyone takes a step back at my menacing growl. “She needs to rest.” I won’t fucking budge on this. I’ve seen enough trauma in my life to know the harder she’s questioned, the worse her mind will treat her.
“Sure, sure, we can stop for now. However, we’d like an official statement within the next twenty-four hours, while everything is fresh in her mind,” the older of the duo requests, less eager than his partner and with more respect.
“I’ll bring her in tomorrow. Right now, she just needs some rest and food.” It’s not a lie; Stella appears beyond exhausted and ready to be left alone.
They leave, and the doctor informs us that my girl will be staying overnight for observation and a psych consultation to determine what kind of help, if any, she’d like.
“Mom, do you need to go?”
Glancing between the two women, I understand what they’re talking about, but instead of being invasive, I give them a moment alone.
“I’m going to grab some coffee. You want anything?” Claudia accepts the coffee, and Stella requests an apple juice.
Leaving is damn hard, but I recognize they need to talk. They won’t have much privacy once I’ve got my girl under my roof, and I think she knows that already. Her mom seems to be on board as well and possibly happy, too. This makes me think about building a mother-in-law suite on my property.
I get the feeling the two are as thick as thieves, despite Claudia’s addiction. They’ve relied on each other for a long time, and I won’t be the one to wreck their relationship.