Total pages in book: 134
Estimated words: 122242 (not accurate)
Estimated Reading Time in minutes: 611(@200wpm)___ 489(@250wpm)___ 407(@300wpm)
Estimated words: 122242 (not accurate)
Estimated Reading Time in minutes: 611(@200wpm)___ 489(@250wpm)___ 407(@300wpm)
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.