Chapter 44
CHAPTER 44
My bedroom door opened, and he stood in the doorway, a silhouetted shadow. He approached the bed and, without speaking, climbed in and wrapped his huge warm body around me. “Were you crying?”
I sniffed. “No.”
I could hear the smile in his voice. “Liar.”
“No one likes a crybaby.”
“Was this the cute cry or the ugly cry?” he teased.
“It wasn’t the ugly cry.”
“When’s that going to happen?”
“Hopefully never. Nothing good has happened if I’m doing the ugly cry.”
He tightened his arm around me, pulling me harder against his side.
“Do you ever cry?” I blurted out.
“Last time I cried, I was ten.”
“What happened?”
“My horse died.”
“You had a horse when you were ten? ”
“I got Billy for my birthday when I was five. He’d been Dad’s horse and had been passed through all my brothers until he became mine. He was really old and slow. But he was my horse.”
“What happened?”
“Old age. Billy was already a grandpa by the time I got him, but I loved him until the day he died.”
The image of Porter as a kid, crying over his horse, made me choke up. “That’s so sad.”
His lips grazed my neck. “It was, but Billy had a great life, and he died a peaceful death.”
I laid there, thinking about Porter and this mysterious life he had lived in Montana. I tried to imagine him growing up with five older brothers on a ranch where five-year-olds got their own horses.
Whenever he spoke about that time in his life, there was nothing but respect and reverence for his childhood. What had gone wrong? Why had he left when at 18? And why didn’t he think he deserved to return and be part of that legacy?
“You’re different,” I blurted out.
“From what?”
“Just… you seemed so distant after my accident. And now, you seem like yourself again.”
He waited so long to answer, I wasn’t sure he would. “I was focused.”
“On what?”
“When I’m on a mission, we can’t afford distractions. Most of us are really good at shutting everything else out.”
“What were you focusing on?”
“Keeping you safe.”
I twisted in his arms to look up at him. “There’s so much going on.”
He bent down and winced, before kissing me. “We’ll figure it out.”
“Are you hurt?” I lifted my head in concern.
He shook his head, his eyes already shut. “I’m fine. ”
I knew he was hurting, but I also knew he’d never admit it. “What can I do?”
“Go to sleep. We’ll talk tomorrow.”
Detective Christensen whistled as she walked into the vast living room. “Nice place you have here.”
I sat up from where I was lying on the couch, reading. “Detective Christensen.”
“Is Porter around?”
I shook my head. “He’s gone for a fitting for his tux.”
“Right, the wedding. When is that happening?”
“Five weeks from now.” I shifted uncomfortably at the lie. I had five weeks left of Porter, and then he’d no longer be part of my life. I couldn’t quite process that.
“How’s the wedding planning going?”
“My mom and Roo are working over time.”
“Who’s Roo?”
“Our wedding planner.”
She raised her eyes brows and nodded. “Right.”
Porter walked into the living room. “Hey, Lena.”
My eyes widened at the use of her first name.
“Hey, Porter.”
“What’s going on?” He sat on the armrest of the couch beside me.
“I just came by to tell you that we’ve had a break in the case.”
“Oh, yeah?”
“We found the perp who attacked you,” she said, looking at me. “His name is Donny Patrino.”
My hands flew over my mouth. “Thank you.”
“Don’t thank us. The police had nothing to do with catching him. Last night, Donny was found on the steps of my precinct. He was hog-tied and beaten to a pulp. Tortured, actually. He had a confession note taped to his chest that was in his own handwriting, and he said that he’d tell us anything if we’d protect him.”
I stilled, thinking back to last night, and I knew that was all Porter. “Oh.”
“We did a rush DNA test on him and found that he was an exact match for the DNA we found under your fingernails after you were attacked.”
“Did Donny say who tortured him?” I whispered, suddenly terrified that Porter would get in trouble or go to jail over this.
She shook her head, her eyes on Porter. “No, the guy was too scared. He kept saying he’d be safer in jail. You know anything about that Porter?”
He crossed his arms, and he slowly shook his head. “No clue.”
“Right.” She rolled her eyes. “Well, at this point, we don’t actually care how he showed up. This guy is one bad dude. He’s been known to the organized crime team as a high-level hitman for one of the biggest mafia families here in New York. When his DNA hit the system, it popped up in association with four other unsolved homicides in the city for the past few years alone.”
“What did his confession say?” I asked.
“That's the concerning part. He said someone, whose name he did not know, hired him to first threaten you, which he did in the washroom of the restaurant. Then, he was rehired to increase the pressure. He said he wasn’t actually hired to kill you, but he was instructed to mess you up as good as he could without killing you outright.”
Fear pressed me back against Porter’s leg. His hand moved onto the back of my neck. The words stuck in my throat, “Who hired him?”
“Even he doesn’t seem to know. The instructions came through a burner, which we've retrieved. The message was sent from another untraceable burner phone. The money was sent to him via Bitcoin. It’s also virtually untraceable.”
“Do you think they’ll try again? ”
She was staring at the bandage on Porter’s arm. “I think it’d be wise to keep that security team of yours on high alert until we get more information.”
“We’ll take care of it,” Porter answered.
Detective Christensen stood up. “Everyone at the station is talking.”
“About what?”
“How Donny was all but begging to be arrested. He was scared. Real bad. I’m wondering what kind of person could actually scare someone like Donny.” She scanned Porter’s face.
He shrugged but didn’t speak.
“Uh-huh.” She turned to me. “How are you doing after your surgery?”
“I get my stitches out today.”
She nodded. “That’s good.”
The three of us stood there for a moment.
“Well, I’ll see myself out.”
The moment I heard the front door shut, I turned to Porter. “Does any of this have to do with you needing to stitch up your arm last night?”
Those grey eyes narrowed on my face. “Would it bother you if it did?”
I thought about this man, who had taken on a violent hitman of the mob and brought him to justice. For me. To keep me safe. Yes, maybe he had taken the law into his own hands, but did it bother me? Not in the least.
“No.”
He held out his hand. “Come on, I’ll take you to your doctor’s appointment to get those stitches out.”