Chapter Fourteen
Octavio
" I think I found something."
I glance up from my computer screen to see Captain Franklin standing in the doorway of my office, a sheaf of papers in his hands. His sleeves are rolled up his forearms and his Navy-blue tie hangs loose around his neck.
"What?"
He pulls the door closed before dropping down into a chair across from my desk. "You ever heard of Teddy Jackson?"
"Doesn't ring a bell."
"He played for the Tennessee Tornadoes before he was traded to the Sabres in 1999," Franklin says. "Could have helped lead the team to their first championship in years if he hadn't blown his knee halfway through the season. He was a damn good defensive end. No one could get through him."
I frown, turning the name over in my mind, but still come up with nothing. I have always been more of a Colonials fan, and they won the championship game that year. If memory serves, the Sabres didn't even make it to the playoffs after several players were injured…but I don't remember who any of them were. I was only eleven at the time, and Alivia had just disappeared.
"Still doesn't ring a bell," I admit.
"He left the sport that year. Went on to run a company that created more lightweight protective gear. In the last decade, most professional teams have switched to the stuff his company designed. From what I've read, it's cheaper and more effective."
"Still don't recall the name," I mutter.
"I don't suppose it matters if you remember him or not," he says, waving me off. "The point is, he was popular with the ladies. Football stars usually are."
I snort because he's right. When I played college ball, women threw themselves at me and my teammates like we were offering salvation. A lot of guys fell into the trap. I wasn't as easily ensnared. I had more important things on my mind, like looking after my father after mom passed. Football wasn't ever a way of life for me. It was merely something I enjoyed doing.
"Even after he retired, women flocked to him. A few years later, there were reports that he had a kid with a fan. That in and of itself wasn't a big deal, but there were also reports that he'd taken custody of the baby. He died suddenly a few years later. Brain aneurysm."
"You think he's Faith's father."
Franklin hands over the sheaf of papers in his hands. They're all news articles about Teddy Jackson. "His real name was Theodore Jackson," he says as I skim through them. "The timeline matches. I'm not saying it's him, but he might be worth looking into."
I nod, my eyes transfixed on a photo of Jackson he printed out. The man was built like a human tank with broad shoulders and a wide body. He was also tall, almost six-three. "They have the same eyes," I mutter to Franklin. Like Faith, Jackson had wide honey-colored eyes, and a slightly rounded, heart-shaped face. It's not enough to say for sure that he was her father, but it's compelling enough to pique my interest. "Does he have any family?"
"He had a sister who died two years ago. His mother is still alive, but from what I've been able to find, she's in a care facility for Alzheimer's in Tennessee."
" Mierda ." I glance up at him. "Have you found anything on her mother?"
Ever since Faith told me where her mother was a couple days ago, we've been looking into her, trying to track the bitch down. I've also been making my way through Faith's notes on Tarasova's people. She knows a hell of a lot more about them than I think she realizes. That notebook, combined with what we already have on them, might just be enough to cut them down at the knees. I just need to fit all the pieces together.
I try to skip anything about what they did to her. She's told me a little bit. Enough to make my blood boil. The things they did to her… Dios , she lived a waking nightmare. Hearing her tell me the rest is going to kill me, but I think she needs to say the words out loud. Until she does, those memories will continue to haunt her. I'm not pushing her though, instead letting her share what she wants, when she wants.
Franklin shakes his head, scowling like he's frustrated by the fact that he hasn't gotten anything solid on her mother yet. I'm not surprised though. Carmen Donovan lived off the kindness of whatever man she was sleeping with at the time, most of whom were small-time cartel members…not exactly people who like to leave behind a trail to follow. "If she and Alexei Palatov are in Canada, they're flying under the radar."
I grunt, not surprised he hasn't found anything on them. If Palatov was smart enough to skim hundreds of thousands of dollars from Tarasova without getting caught, I'm guessing he's also smart enough to keep himself hidden. He has to know they won't give up looking for him. The Bratva has a long reach and an even longer memory.
"I've been able to locate Ms. Donovan's school records to confirm her mother's name," Franklin says. "Her mother is listed on her birth certificate as Carmen Narváez-Donovan, but aside from a police report she filed about a break-in in 2002, I've got nothing substantial on her historically either. And before you ask, no father was listed on the birth certificate."
"Can you get me a copy of Faith's school records?"
Franklin shoots me a questioning look.
"She wants to get her GED." Before Tarasova kidnapped her, she was pulling straight A's in advanced placement classes. Even though she wasn't enrolled in school after he got his hands on her, she completed homework for some of the Tarasova's men's kids. Getting a GED won't be a problem for her. I doubt getting her into college will be either. She's smart as hell.
Captain Franklin purses his lips, studying me with a sharp, hawkish gleam in his eyes. He's been quiet since the incident at the theater, but I can see the storm brewing behind his eyes. He knows something is up with me and Faith. He opens his mouth to say something.
"I'll look into Jackson." I cut him off before he can remind me that she's a witness and this isn't supposed to be personal. It's far too late for that, and I don't particularly want to tell him that she stopped being simply a witness to me weeks ago, if she ever was that at all. Telling him that won't win me any favors. Hell, I'll be lucky if it doesn't get me suspended or worse. I'm juggling fire by being with her and I know it.
I just don't fucking care. If administration needs to punish me for being with her, I'll accept it, even if that means they fire me. I'm not asking for their forgiveness or understanding. I know the rules. I'll accept responsibility for breaking them. I just want time to make sure she's safe before they dole out whatever punishment is coming to me.
"I know you want to bring them down, but be smart about it, Hernandez," Franklin warns me, climbing to his feet. "We can't afford to lose you right now."
"I know."
"Be careful."
"Always am," I mutter.
He sighs heavily and then shakes his head instead of pushing for a confession we both know he doesn't want to deal with right now. "I'll keep digging."
"Thanks, Cap."
He ducks out of my office, pulling the door closed behind him. I skim through the articles until I come to the printout with Jackson's mother's information on it. Franklin jotted the number for the rest home and her name on a sheet of paper. I pick up my desk phone and dial.
"Thank you for calling Harmony Grove Nursing and Rehabilitation Center, how can I help you?"
"This is Detective Octavio Hernandez with the Los Angeles Police Department. I'm trying to reach someone in reference to a Eudora Jackson. I understand she's a resident at your facility. I have some questions about her."
"Oh, um…yes, sir. Let me get you to our Director. One moment."
"Thanks."
I lean back in my office chair, drumming my fingers on my desk as the receptionist puts me on hold. She leaves me on hold for a good two minutes before she picks up again and lets me know she's transferring me to their director, Layla Carlisle. The phone rings twice and then a woman picks up.
"This is Layla Carlisle. How can I help you, Detective Hernandez?"
"I'm looking for some information on a Eudora Jackson," I murmur into the phone, setting the articles on the desk in front of me. "I understand she's a resident there."
"Yes, sir, but unfortunately, I can't release any information to you," she explains. "We have strict rules in place to protect patient privacy."
"I understand that, and I wouldn't ask you to violate your policies or the law," I assure her. "But I've recently come into some information and believe a young woman here in Los Angeles may be her granddaughter. I understand her son was named Theodore Jackson."
"I believe that's correct, but he passed over a decade ago, sir."
"Right, fifteen years ago. Does Ms. Jackson have any surviving family, Ms. Carlisle?"
"Ah, not to our knowledge, sir. Her daughter passed away a couple of years ago."
"Has she ever mentioned a granddaughter?"
"Not that I recall."
"Anyone named Faith?"
"Not that I'm aware, Detective." Layla sighs. "To be quite honest, Ms. Jackson doesn't say much at all. It's the progression of the disease, I'm afraid. Even if she does have a granddaughter, she likely wouldn't remember her."
" Mierda ," I curse, though I didn't expect much different. Alzheimer's isn't kind to its victims. If this woman is Faith's grandmother, she isn't going to be able to help me fill in any blanks. I don't want to give Faith false hope until I can confirm whether or not Theo Jackson is her father. I don't know how I'm going to do that when he's dead and his only remaining relative isn't able to tell us anything or consent to DNA testing, but I'm not ready to give up yet either.
"The girl in question, the one I believe is her granddaughter," I explain, taking a shot in the dark, "lived with her father until he passed unexpectedly. She then went to her mother, who wasn't what we'd call a benevolent or kind woman. This young lady has spent the last few years living as the hostage of a Russian gang. We're not even sure if Mr. Jackson is her father, but if we can confirm it, we might be able to give her a little peace."
"I'm sorry, Detective. That sounds awful. Unfortunately, I don't know how to help you."
I sigh heavily, not particularly surprised, but disappointed nonetheless. I want to give Faith back a little piece of the father she lost. After everything, she deserves to know the man who loved her. Maybe it will ease the pain and heartache her bitch of a mother left behind. "Thank you anyway, Ms. Carlisle. If you do think of anything, please do let me know. Do you have my number?"
"Yes. It's on caller ID."
"Thank you for your time."
"Good luck," she says softly.
I disconnect, placing my desk phone back in its cradle and then skimming through the news articles on Jackson again. There's nothing useful in any of them. I reluctantly set them aside and glance at the time. It's already after noon. I still need to swing by the hospital to check on January, and then go get Faith.
The case against Kincaid is more or less done and over so long as ballistics confirms the weapon recovered from Kaleo's property was used in the murder of the Diablso. There's no way it was planted any time recently. It looked as if it had been there for years. If it matches, I'm prepared to close the case.
As for whether or not Kaleo actually killed them…well, falling for Faith isn't the only rule I'm breaking these days. Some shit is better left buried. The truth about who killed the Diablos is one of those things.
January is awake for the first time since Kaleo shot her. I decide not to stick around, knowing that Kincaid will want time with her. Hell, after everything, he deserves a little time. He hasn't left her side since she was shot. I don't blame him. If it were Faith…I don't think any power in Heaven or in Hell could drag me from her bedside.
It's barely three in the afternoon, but I head toward home anyway, eager to see Faith. Roman's truck is in his driveway when I pull up and park. He hops out and leans up against the side, waiting for me to make the trek across the yard to him.
"We need to talk," he says.
"If it's about January, I already know," I mutter, stepping over a hole in the grass. "As soon as I hear anything back from the Crime Lab on the gun, I'll let you know. It shouldn't be much longer, but I expect him to be cleared."
"It's not about that, but I appreciate the heads up."
I nod, glancing toward the house. Whatever he wants to say…I'm not sure I want to hear it. I've got enough on my plate right now. If Jackson is Faith's dad, I need to figure out how to confirm it before I mention it to her. I also need to finish weeding through the information she provided to find a way to free her from the threat Tarasova poses, find a way to give her freedom while keeping her with me, and I still have a stack of open homicide cases to clear.
"Finn heard a rumor today," Roman says, crossing his arms. "Tarasova is offering a half a million dollars for a female. He wants her brought in alive."
My entire body goes still.
"Faith," I say, more statement than actual question.
"Yeah, that's what we're thinking."
I don't move for a long moment, pure rage coursing through my veins. They're not getting her back. I don't care how much they offer or who they send, I'll take out every one of the motherfuckers if that's what it takes. She's mine now. Not a fucking thing on this earth will take her from me.
I exhale a breath and nod, letting Roman know I heard him.
"Whatever you need," he promises, holding my gaze. I think he knows how I feel about her. We haven't talked about it, but some shit doesn't require words. It's not like it's hard to see the way I look at her anyway.
I nod again, grateful as hell he's in my corner. "Does she know?"
"No. Do you want her to know?"
"The last thing I want is for her to know." I grimace at the thought. Talking about Tarasova already makes her restless. This isn't going to help ease her mind any. She isn't going to take it well. "But she's lacked control of her own life for long enough. I'll talk to her."
Roman clasps me on the shoulder in a show of solidarity. "You know my team has your back on this, O. Whatever you need to keep her safe, all you have to do is ask."
"I appreciate that," I murmur, more grateful than I know how to express.
"I'm taking Mila to Santa Cruz for a couple days. Will you be straight here? I can reschedule."
"We'll be fine. Don't reschedule because of this or you may never get the fuck out of this town."
He sighs, not disagreeing with me. With all the shit coming our way, he can't. "I'll ask Knox to stick around until we're back."
"Thanks, Roman."
His front door opens, drawing my attention. Mila and Faith step outside, waving to us. They both look so damn happy, like they don't have a care in the world. My breath catches in my throat at the sight of Faith. Even dressed in one of my hoodies and a pair of yoga pants with her hair up in a messy bun and no makeup on, she takes my breath away. I don't think there will ever be a time when I look at her and don't feel a little awed that she's mine or a little humbled by the fact that she trusts me.
She bends her head toward Mila and whispers something that makes Mila laugh loudly. They link arms and head toward us, Faith's honey-brown eyes locked on mine. Humor dances in her gaze, mirth tipping the corners of her lips up. My dick reacts to the sight of her, turning to steel in my pants as she smiles at me almost shyly.
"Jesus," I mutter, swallowing hard when she stops in front of me and tilts her head back to look up at me. Her expression is so soft. There's no fear, no hesitation. She looks genuinely happy, like none of the shit she's been through in her life has stolen her ability to find joy. She just stares up at me with wide eyes, not saying anything for the longest time.
My heart squeezes in a vise, the thought of anyone hurting her tearing at my insides. She's precious to me, more than I thought possible. I'm a controlling asshole who likes everything to be nice and neat and in its place. But one smile from her and I don't care if my carefully ordered world is tilted completely off its axis. I'll gladly spend my life living in chaos so long as she's by my side.
Tarasova can't hurt her.
I can't lose her.
"Hi, handsome," Mila whispers to Roman as I stare at Faith. "I wondered what was taking you so long."
"Just talking to O," he says.
I reach for Faith's hand, pulling her closer to me.
"Let me know," Roman murmurs.
I glance in his direction, nodding to let him know I heard him. When he glances back down at Mila, I lead Faith toward the house, ready to be alone with her.
"You're quiet today," she murmurs as we climb the steps onto the porch. "Is everything okay?"
"It is now that I'm home."
I unlock the door and pull her inside, quickly rearming the alarm and locking up before I pick her up and press her against the door. Her arms and legs lock around me, making me smile. She always clings to me like a koala bear, as if she wants to be pressed as close to me as she can get.
" Bésame, conejita ," I demand, my voice gritty.
She tightens her hold on me, leaning forward to press her soft lips to mine. Her strawberries and cream scent swirls around me, filling my lungs with her smell. The tip of her tongue touches mine playfully, sending desire coursing through my veins. I groan, pressing her deeper into the door as my cock throbs.
" Dios , Faith. Tu me vuelves loca ," I growl against her lips, planting my hands on her ass to grind her against my dick. I love her ass. It fits in my hands like it was made to be there. No one has ever made me as crazy as she does. When she's with me, all I think about is her and the filthy things I want to do to her. "I've been thinking about you all day."
A soft moan tumbles from her lips. Her eyes are hooded and cloudy with desire. Rational thought flees, leaving me aching with need for her. I've been taking it slow, trying to ease her into intimacy, but if she grinds that hot little body against me again, I'm not going to be able to stop myself this time. I need her too badly.
"We have to stop," I grunt, and then grind her against my dick again. I can't help it. She's so responsive to my touch, and so curious when she touches me. It's intoxicating.
"No." She locks her legs around my waist, holding me as tightly as she can. Her back comes off the door, her lips landing against my neck. "Don't stop, Octavio. Please."
"Angel, we have to–" I break off, growling loudly when she bites me.
"No, we don't."
"Faith, conejita ."
She growls like an angry kitten and bites me again before ripping her hoodie off over her head and flinging it across the room. She isn't wearing a bra. Her nipples are hard little points, so much darker than her skin. My mouth waters at the sight of them.
"You always make me stop," she huffs. "I don't want to stop this time, Octavio. I want you inside me. Hazme el amor . Por favor ."
How am I supposed to resist when she begs so prettily for me to make love to her?
" Dios , angel. I want in you so badly I'm going to lose my mind." I scatter kisses across her jawline, press my face to the hollow of her throat and breathe her in. Trail my lips across her collarbones and onto her chest. "But not like this, Faith. I'm not taking your virginity against the front door. I don't want to hurt you. I want you spread out in the bed beneath me so I can take my time with you."
"Then take me to bed, Octavio. I need you." She writhes above me, crying out as I pull one dark nipple into my mouth and bite down before tonguing it. Her nails dig into my shoulders, the little bite of pain making my cock throb.
I should tell her no. We need to talk about what Roman heard today, but with her half naked in my arms, the last thing I want to do is talk. I want to sink into her heat, and stay there until the never-ending ache I feel abates. The need to claim her rips through me, vicious and unrelenting.
"Please, Octavio. I want you. I need you inside me!" she cries, wriggling all over my cock. "I've been thinking about it all day."
My willpower shreds like paper.
"Are you sure?" I ask, pulling back to look at her.
She meets my gaze, not blinking. Desire and trust shine like beacons of honey flame in her eyes. "Please," she whispers, her soft voice washing over me. "Please, Octavio."
I growl loudly, giving in.