Chapter 8
8
A fter CSI had taken photos of Alejandro and DNA from his body, he changed clothes. He donned jeans and a dark shirt with the sleeves cut off. Then an EMT sat him in the back of the ambulance and tended to the cut on his right arm. It had been bleeding, but luckily the slice wasn’t deep.
Camila stood nearby, arms folded as she watched the police activity around her home. Crime scene tape blocked off the area, and the flashing lights of the police vehicles swept across the houses and had awakened several of her neighbors who watched the activity from their front doors.
“Okay, you’re all set,” the female EMT said, giving Alejandro a toothy grin.
“Thank you,” he said, getting to his feet with a bandage on his arm. He walked over to Camila.
“I’m sure she would love to do more than fix your cut,” Camila muttered.
“You think everyone wants to sleep with me.”
Because they do , she thought.
A black Buick sedan rolled up to the scene, and Camila groaned when she saw the detective step out.
“You know him?” Alejandro asked.
“Yes. That’s Detective Slater, and he’s an ass.”
His skin was light brown and so were his eyes. He approached wearing a dark suit and a lazy swagger. “Well, if it isn’t our favorite Blaxican reporter. Looks like tonight you’re the news instead of writing about it.”
“Nice to see you, Detective,” she said in a dry tone.
“We both know you don’t mean that. Who’s this?”
“Alejandro Sanchez,” Alejandro replied.
“I’m Detective Slater.”
Both men shook hands.
“Alejandro is a friend from out of town. He saved my life tonight.”
“A friend, huh?” Detective Slater looked up at Alejandro’s imposing height and then let his gaze drop to his tatted arms.
Camila stiffened. She didn’t like what he was implying but kept her mouth shut since her relationship with Alejandro was none of his business.
“Give me a few minutes to talk to the officers, and then I’ll be back to interview the two of you.”
While they waited for him to return, several more neighbors came out of their homes to gawk at the scene. Fifteen minutes later, the detective returned.
“Okay, as I understand it, there were two intruders. What happened?” He removed a small notebook from his inside jacket pocket.
“They broke into my home. One had a gun, and one had a knife,” Camila answered.
“I saw, but they’re both dead.”
“Thanks to Alejandro.”
The detective silently observed Alejandro, who looked right back at him.
“Care to explain how you did that?”
“We fought, and I got lucky.”
He eyed Alejandro with suspicion. “Uh-huh. Walk me through what happened.”
Listening to her friend recount the story was terrifying, not only for herself, as she understood he was the only reason she was alive and breathing. But she fully appreciated he could have been killed.
Detective Slater took information from them both. At the end of the interview, he flipped back to the start of his notebook. “Let me run through this one more time. You came home and were asleep when these men entered the house and attacked. You have no idea who they are or why they’re here.” He lifted his gaze to Camila.
“Correct. We were gone all night and said goodbye to my brother and the other wedding guests sometime after two. We were completely taken by surprise.”
The detective tapped his pen on the notepad. “Forensics is going over their car in detail, and of course you know you can’t stay here tonight. Do you have someplace where you can stay?”
“Well, my par?—”
“We’ll get a hotel,” Alejandro interrupted her.
She looked at him. “Right,” she agreed.
“Good idea. Mr. Sanchez, I’m very impressed that you were able to take down both men by yourself. Who are you, exactly?”
“What do you mean?”
“I assume you have a military background.”
“I’m not military. I work for a company called The Cordoba Agency. You’re welcome to look them up, if you like. We provide security and investigative services for clients.”
“Bodyguards?”
“Yes, among other services.”
The detective peered directly into his eyes. Challenging him. “A lot of you guys have military backgrounds, don’t you?”
“Not me.”
“If not a military background, maybe a criminal background? Maybe these men were here for you and not Ms. Hughes.”
“What’s the point of this, Detective Slater?” Camila demanded. “He saved my life. If he hadn’t been here, I would be dead.”
Detective Slater shrugged. “Just doing my job, that’s all.”
“I assure you, Alejandro has nothing to do with what happened here tonight. We’re the victims. You need to look into these men. Maybe this isn’t the first home invasion they’ve done.”
“No need to get snippy,” Detective Slater said irritably. “I’m trying to do my damn job. I have to ask these questions, as I’m sure you know.”
Alejandro took a step forward to stand beside Camila instead of right behind her. “Maybe you should watch your tone. Are we done here?” He spoke in a calm voice, but anyone with functioning ears could detect the cold undertones.
Detective Slater smirked. “Yes, we’re done. Have a good night, Mr. Sanchez. You too, Camila.” He turned away and then swung back around. “How long will you be here, Mr. Sanchez?”
“For as long as it takes,” Alejandro answered.
The detective narrowed his eyes. “For as long as what takes?”
“For as long as it takes for you to find out why Camila’s home was broken into.”
“We might never find out.”
“Then I’ll never leave.”
Both men stared at each other, then the detective flashed a smile. “Wouldn’t want to keep you here unnecessarily. I’m sure you want to get home as quickly as possible. I’ll be sure to work extra hard to make sure we solve this case so you can.” He walked away, ducking under the tape to go talk to one of the uniformed officers.
Alejandro glared at his retreating back.
“You don’t like him,” Camila said.
“No, and the feeling is mutual. Let’s pack a bag and get out of here. I didn’t want to mention where we were going to the detective. He gives me a bad vibe. For now, we don’t trust anyone.”
“We can stay at my parents’ place. It’s empty.”
“Are you sure?”
“I can handle it. Being there isn’t the problem. It’s letting go that’s hard.”
His gaze was sympathetic. “All right. We’ll stay there.”
With an officer’s permission, they packed their bags and left the house. They both remained silent, deep in their own thoughts as Alejandro drove them to her parents’ two-story house and parked the car in the garage.
Camila took the master bedroom, and Alejandro took the guest room down the hall. After they deposited their belongings in the rooms, they reconvened in the living room downstairs. He sat in one of the armchairs, and she sat cross-legged on the sofa.
“Is it possible you wrote an article that pissed someone off?” Alejandro asked.
“Me?” Camila laughed. “Most of my pieces are about the nightlife or activities to do in town. You know that. They’re puff pieces or human-interest stories. I rarely write anything hard-hitting.”
“You don’t think it’s possible you wrote something that could have upset someone?”
“It’s possible,” Camila said slowly, rubbing her forehead, “but unlikely. I’d have to think about it. Certainly nothing recently.” She sighed wearily. “I don’t know. I’m at the point where I’m too tired to think.”
“You should get some rest.”
“What about you?”
“Can’t sleep. I’m wired.”
“Are you okay? Other than the cut on your arm, I don’t think you have a scratch on you from those guys.”
“Some bruising, but no more cuts,” Alejandro said with a cocky grin.
“Same old Jandro,” she teased, unfolding her legs.
“What time are we meeting your brother and his friends for lunch?”
“Twelve-thirty.” Her brother and his new bride were flying to Mexico later that afternoon. The rest of his friends were going to finish the weekend in Vegas and fly out the following day.
“We have the name and address of one of the men. I’ll go by his apartment and see if I can find any information.”
“I’m coming with you,” Camila said.
“No,” Alejandro said with finality.
“Yes, I am.”
“Camila—”
“Alejandro, I’m coming with you. If you want me to stay in the car, I’ll do that, but I want to know who these men are just as much as you do.”
He was silent as he looked at her, and she refused to show weakness by dropping her gaze first.
“We’ll do that, for now, but at the first sign of danger, you’re staying your butt out of the way.”
“Fine. Not a problem.”
“One more thing, we’ll need to rent a car. Something less conspicuous than that purple monstrosity.”
“Was that really necessary?” Camila asked, watching him as he rose from the chair.
“I’m going to take a shower,” he announced, heading toward the stairs.
She watched him leave and then sat quietly, thinking about the night. How had Alejandro been able to do what he did? She had made jokes in the past about him being in the FBI but knew he had worked for the U.S. government at one point, though he had been very secretive about it.
In fact, that’s how they’d lost touch at one time. After he had been thrown into prison. She had been worried sick. Only seventeen, and what he’d done—while illegal—had been noble. Then he was gone, and she never saw or heard from him for more than two years.
She had missed him, but she had never worried. Somehow she knew he would turn up again. Emilio had been sweet and kind. She had always worried about Emilio, but never about Alejandro.
The next time she saw him, he was different. Almost twenty. More mature. More muscular. He had become a man with a dangerous edge who observed the world around him with quiet intensity. He was like a wolf—no, bigger and more dangerous—a tiger.
From then on, he would disappear for months at a time. “Top-secret government work,” he always said, but nothing more. For the longest time, she couldn’t tell if he was kidding or not.
Whatever his training, they had turned him into a killing machine, for which she was thankful. He’d saved her life tonight.
Camila rose from the sofa and turned out the light. She climbed the stairs, and as she passed the hall bathroom on the way to her parents’ old room, she heard the shower running.
She stopped inches past the doorframe and strained her ears to listen. Her mind flashed back to his appearance outside her bedroom. Despite having blood and sweat all over him, he looked like sex poured into long legs and swarthy skin.
Now she imagined all that dark, muscular flesh being covered in water and soap as he cleaned his body. What she wouldn’t give to be a soap bubble right now.
The shower stopped, shaking her from her reverie. She scurried to the bedroom—running from being discovered and running from the thoughts that threatened to consume her.