Broken Chains Page 8

  11

  A phone rings.

  Startled out of my thoughts, I look around to identify its source and follow the sound to the kitchen area. A wireless phone is perched in its cradle on the wall. I pick it up.

  “Ms. Abbott-Renou?” I’m surprised to recognize Mr. Stevens’ voice.

  “I’m here,” I say. It’s hard for me to speak too much above a whisper. My throat hurts on the inside as well as on the outside.

  “The intercom is muted. Can you go ahead and unmute it?”

  I hang up and then force myself to respond.

  “Good,” comes his voice over the intercom. “Try talking.”

  “I’m here.”

  “Your apartment is clear. I’m standing outside the safe room. You can see me on the surveillance monitor.”

  I turn to check the monitor. There are people in my apartment: bodyguards, two police officers and Mr. Stevens. When I look at the time, I can see it’s only been seven minutes since I closed the door to the safe room. Each minute felt like an eternity.

  “When the alarm is sounded, the safe room goes in lock down mode. You’ll need to deactivate this mode with a passcode. It’s the day you and Ari met. Type it in, then place your palm on the reader.”

  I follow his instructions. I place my hand against the panel near the entrance, and the door snaps open.

  “We need to get you to a hospital,” Mr. Stevens says, sharp eyes going over my face. He taps the control pad above the intercom speaker outside my door.

  I can’t stop shaking.

  “Come with me,” he orders.

  I leave my safe room and hug myself. My throat and face feel bruised, and I’ve got a nasty headache. Mr. Stevens and several of my bodyguards escort me out of the apartment and down the stairs to the lobby. We wait for his car to come around then get in. He makes two calls, one to Chris and one to what sounds like the police department.

  We go to the local hospital and to the private emergency entrance high profile public figures use. We’re greeted by a team of nurses and a doctor who usher me back to a room. Mr. Stevens leaves me, and I go through triaging, testing and interviews alone.

  I have no concussion after this confrontation with Madison, just tons of bruises. When they release me at nine, Chris is waiting for me in the lobby. He glances up as I approach him.

  “We swept your apartment. You’ve now got a permanent detail assigned,” he says.

  “It didn’t work last time,” I reply.

  “There was a leak. Madison bribed someone for a key card to get into the building. Mr. Stevens has assured me it’s taken care of.”

  The way he says it – and what I know about Mr. Stevens – makes me shudder. Chris hands me my phone, and I clutch it to my chest.

  “How do you feel?” he asks.

  “I’m a mess.”

  “You’ve got a long interview at the station.”

  “Chris …” My eyes water. “Please, please, please, I –“

  “Mia.” He stands. “We need to do this.”

  “I can’t anymore.” I start crying, exhausted and scared once again. Memories of the worst night of my life are fresh in my mind, triggered by Madison even before he attacked me in my own apartment building.

  Chris hugs me. I expect it to feel awkward, but it doesn’t. I’ve waited my whole life for my father to love me. He never will, and Chris is the only family I have who gives a damn.

  “Yes, you can,” he says softly. “I’ll go with you.”

  I cry for a few minutes. When I’m calm enough, he steps away and leads me out of the hospital. I slide into the backseat of one of our armored cars.

  We drive to the police station, the place I can’t seem to escape.

  “Where’s Jenna?” I ask as we climb the stairs to the station.

  “One of the Fabios took her home,” Chris says.

  “Meanwhile I was trapped in there with that psycho.”

  “Mr. Stevens isn’t happy about the response time, either. The response should’ve been under two minutes, not ten, and they should’ve blown the door down, if you ask me.”

  “But then I’d have nowhere to live,” I object sadly.

  He glances at me but says nothing. We don’t go into the station but into the courthouse, down a familiar hallway, to the conference room I’m beginning to hate. Instead of Dom or Kiesha, it’s the damn DA waiting for me, with the detective whose name I can’t remember, a stenographer and someone else.

  Dom. I missed our coffee date. I glance down at my phone to see I’ve got a zillion messages. I don’t have time to check them before I sit down next to Chris, across from the DA.

  “We’ve got the footage,” the detective says. “Mr. Stevens was quick to supply it. We just need a statement.”

  “What good does it do?” I demand. “He’s still out there, still able to hurt me!”

  “Mia,” Chris’s voice is quiet.

  I sigh. “Fine. Let’s get this over with.”

  I give them a verbal statement amidst bouts of crying. They call in someone to photograph my neck, face and arms. I don’t look at the pictures. I’m afraid to. When they’re satisfied, I leave, Chris at my side.

  He walks me to the apartment building and up to my apartment, where the original Fabio sits outside the door. I enter and look around, expecting Madison to leap out and finish what he started.

  “They searched it. Fabio has access and will be outside your door all night,” Chris says, seeing my look. “Mr. Stevens assures me there will be no more issues.”

  “Okay,” I say. “Thank you.”

  “I’ll call you in the morning.”

  I nod. He closes the door, and I’m left in my tomb. Shivering, I walk to my bedroom. I feel dirty again, so dirty. I go to the bathroom and clean up then look in the mirror.

  Dear god, I look awful! There are black marks around my neck, down both arms, and on my cheeks and chin. I look beyond battered. I remember my cell phone suddenly and check it.

  Ari’s left me five voicemails and about twenty texts. I go through hers, starting with the earliest ones where she’s freaking out after Jenna calls her. There’s a time gap this evening, but she’s tried to contact me a few times in the last hour. I reach the first of multiple texts she sent this evening and almost drop the phone.

  Call me NOW. Dom got shot.

  My first tired thought is that Robert did it. Knowing how ridiculous that is, I call her back. She freaks, like I expect.

  “Ari, omigod, just chill!” I say after listening to her for a couple of minutes.

  “Chill? You almost get killed today, my best friend since –”

  “But I didn’t. I’m okay. Relatively okay, at least,” I say. “What’s this about Dom? What happened?”

  “Are you alive? Will you at least tell me you’re alive and you’ll call me next time some psycho traps you in your apartment?”

  “Yes, I’m alive and yes, I’ll call you. I didn’t have my phone. I wasn’t thinking.”

  “Damn right you weren’t! Did you forget everything we –”

  “Ari!”

  “Okay! I guess he went to a callout early this morning and got shot. When Jenna called me, I called Daddy then tracked down Dom, like, this afternoon. I should’ve done it earlier but just –”

  “Where is he?” My chest is almost too tight to breathe. “Is he alive?”

  “If you’d listen for a minute!” she snaps, irritated. “When I called him, someone else answered. I guess it was his brother or whoever was with him in the hospital. They said he’s fine. Got shot in the chest but docs say there aren’t any issues. He was sleeping when I called. I texted you the information of where he is.”

  “I’ll call you back.”

  I end the call with her, knowing she’ll be pissed. I scroll through the rest of her texts to find the information for the hospital. Then I notice his text from the morning. It’s from 8:30. I was supposed to meet him at 8:00.

  Just let me know you’re
okay, reads Dom’s text.

  I’m crushed. My eyes water. I stood him up. I told him I wanted to see him then didn’t show. Even when I fuck him over, he’s kind to me.

  I don’t deserve someone like him in my life.

  I don’t let myself cry. Still shaky, I get dressed to go out and stop in front of the mirror, staring at my neck. I’m wearing a sweater over my t-shirt to cover my arms. The skin of my neck is red, blue and angry looking. I change into a turtleneck instead, trying to hide the marks.

  Guessing Chris has ordered Fabio and my bodyguards not to move without his say so, I text him.

  Dom got shot. I’m going to hospital to see him. I’ll take Fabio.

  I wonder if he’ll be asleep, but his response pops upon my screen instantly.

  Approved.

  When I open the door to my apartment, Fabio is on his feet, waiting.

  I’m asleep in the car and jerk awake when the door opens. I exit and stretch. My whole body hurts. Fabio follows me into the main entrance, and I check the directory on the wall for the floor Ari’s texted. When I reach Dom’s floor, I spot Gianna and a few other people, some dozing and some awake in front of one of the doors.

  Gianna is asleep on the shoulder of the woman I take to be their mother. The others look like brothers and sisters, with the other cop in the family standing in full uniform, checking his phone.

  I approach nervously, not at all certain what to say. When I reach Dom’s door, I peek in. He’s asleep, too. Half his chest is exposed, the other half wrapped in bandages with one arm cradled against his chest.

  My stomach drops to see my hero hurt. It’s strange, but he’s always seemed super human to me, someone who wouldn’t crumble under the same pressure I’ve been under. To know he’s as human as I am disturbs me. I’ve been so immersed in my own issues, I never stop to think that Dom, Ari, Chris, and anyone else I care about, can be gone in a blink. I’ve never appreciated any of them before enough to acknowledge how important they are in my life.

  I haven’t felt nauseated in weeks, but I do now.

  “Whoa, there,” Dom’s older brother says as I step into his room.

  Fabio moves closer.

  “I’m a friend,” I say quickly.

  “You got a name?” Dom’s brother asks, dark gaze sharp and wary.

  “Mia Abbott-Renou.”

  “Mia. The Mia, from the newspapers?”

  “Yeah.” I manage not to sigh.

  He appears suddenly amused. I imagine he saw the awful pics of me fighting Jenna, which have been everywhere the past few days. Flustered, I walk into Dom’s room and stop by his bed. Fabio and Dom’s oldest brother follow.

  I start to panic. Dom’s breathing deeply and is plugged into an IV. I can’t help recalling what Tanya looked like two days before she died. She was plugged into a ton of machines, not just one, which gives me hope Dom will be okay. The thought of him hurt and disappointed in me makes me want to stop struggling to heal altogether and just collapse and die, if that’s possible.

  “What happened?” I ask at last.

  “Armed robbery. Dom and his partner took the call. A gunfight broke out, and he got hit,” Dom’s older brother says. “Same way our father died.”

  “I didn’t know that,” I say, startled to realize how much I don’t know about Dom and his family.

  “It’s part of our jobs.”

  “That doesn’t make it okay.”

  “Trust me, he’ll be fine. This is a scratch in our line of work.” The words are casual, but his look at his brother is warm, and he squeezes Dom’s arm.

  “That’s not a scratch! Maybe you should take better care of your little brother,” I snap, beyond agitated after my horrific day.

  “Yes, ma’am.” Dom’s brother seems amused again. “I’m Tony.”

  “Find me a chair, Tony.”

  He laughs. I don’t care about being civil right now. I got my ass kicked today by someone who shouldn’t have been able to get into my super-secure apartment building. To make things worse, Dom got shot.

  Tony does find me a chair, and I sink into it in a corner of Dom’s room, exhausted. I don’t plan on sleeping. I don’t think I can, after my night. Fabio takes up post just inside the door, and I gaze at Dom.

  If something happens to him … I can’t bear losing him or Ari or even Chris. How could I not have thought of them at any point the past few months? I’m a bitch to Chris and I’ve been a bitch to Dom at times, too. Why do they put up with me? I’m nothing but drama and anger, and I don’t even acknowledge what they do for me or half of what mean to me.

  How can I involve Dom in a life that includes so much pain and suffering? If the press knew Dom was my friend, his life, and possibly the lives of his family, would be destroyed.

  I can’t leave him here like this, I think. Too tired to think straight, I fall asleep wanting to cry.

  Nightmares don’t let me sleep long. Dom dies, Robert comes after me, and Madison kills my family.

  I break free of the nightmares just as light creeps through the gap in the drapes. Dom sleeps soundly, and everyone in the hall is sleeping, too. Except Fabio, who’s sitting inside Dom’s door, his bulky form taking up more space than two chairs smashed together. He’s reading on his phone.

  It’s not even six yet. I’m never up this early on a weekend, especially when I go to sleep so late. Exhausted, I get up and leave quietly.

  Gianna wakes up when I emerge from the dark room into the brighter hallway. She smiles.

  “I’m going for coffee,” I mumble.

  “I’m glad you came, Mia,” Gianna says, standing. Her petite body is clad in jeans and a sweatshirt. Her make-up is smeared – probably like mine is – and her eyes have dark circles under them. “You been fighting again?”

  “More or less. Got my ass kicked good this time,” I reply, not wanting to tell anyone what happened. “The docs say he’ll be okay?”

  “He’s tough. He’ll be on his feet in a day, and back at work in two, if I know my brother,” she says. “My brothers are stubborn like that.”

  “I am so sorry.”

  “I know it’s a risk in their line of work. It’s always a shock when one of them does get hurt. I know he’ll appreciate you being here.”

  I force a smile and walk away, trailed by Fabio.

  I have to wait half an hour for the damn cafeteria to open but am one of the first people in. The coffee is fresh and surprisingly good, and I grab a breakfast sandwich. Fabio does as well and sits with me. For the first time since he’s been assigned, I take a good look at him. As tall as Mr. Stevens, original Fabio’s skin is darker than his suit and his eyes are never still. He’s as wide as a doorway. I’m pretty sure he’s armed, even if he doesn’t need to be. His size alone would make criminals change their minds.

  “What’s your real name?” I ask, surprised I don’t know it.

  “Fabio is fine, Ms. Abbott-Renou.”

  “Do you ever sleep?”

  “I’m not paid to sleep, Ms. Abbott-Renou.” His polite, clipped tone and roving eyes make me shake my head. He’s not interested in talking to me, even if he’s been watching over me for weeks now.

  He’s just like everyone else in my life, I think moodily. I text Chris to tell him I’m awake, at the hospital and not being attacked by any lunatics. His response is as distant as Fabio’s.

  Community service at 9.

  It’s past seven. I don’t think I’ll have the time to run home and change clothes. I’ll be going to work dressed less than impressive, which I’m sure Molly will text me about later.

  We finish eating and go back up to Dom’s floor. Gianna and two others are in Dom’s room talking. I hesitate to enter, ever awkward around strangers, and doubting how to act in front of the family of a friend I barely know.

  I’ve got nothing else to lose, I tell myself. With a deep breath, I go to the doorway. Gianna, the young man I take to be a younger brother and a girl who looks too much like Gianna to be an
ything other than a sister, are gathered around Dom. I’m surprised to see Dom is dressed as if to leave. His left arm is in a sling. He looks a little tired but much better than I do, and he got shot.

  At least his family showed up to the hospital.

  I hate my life. I really do.

  The lights are still off, and I’m hoping he doesn’t see my bruised face with the hall lights at my back. I don’t want him to think I only talk to him when something bad happens. For once, I want it to be the other way around. I want to be there when he needs me.

  Not that he does. He has a decent family.

  He catches sight of me before his family does, and his smile turns curious. His lingering gaze draws his family’s attention, and they face me. Right then, I want to run. I don’t. I wave.

  “Mia, come on in,” Gianna says cheerfully. “Dom’s insisting on leaving today. I told you these guys are stubborn.”

  The other two are looking at me. I wonder if they’ve seen me in the news. None of the recent photos have been anywhere near good. My face feels hot. Dom turns away to grab something from the table near his bed.

  “Mia, this is Nicki, our youngest sister, and Leo, our youngest brother,” Gianna says.

  “Nice to meet you,” I say. I hate how awkward I am and how hoarse my damaged voice is. “Just wanted to make sure Dom’s okay.”

  “I am,” Dom says, glancing at me. “Thank you for dropping by.” He seems as awkward as I feel.

  Did I step over some line by visiting? I wanted to do the right thing for once, but I honestly don’t think I know what the right thing is.

  “What happened?” he asks, eyes on my newly bruised face.

  “Another fight.” I lie. “Were the doctors good to you?” I ask, uncertain what to say when everyone is looking between the two of us.

  “No complaints.”

  “Oh, Dom, you’re bleeding again.” Gianna steps forward, breaking the tension among all of us. Blood seeps through Dom’s t-shirt, its source a wound in his shoulder, close to his heart.

  Very close to his heart.

  The idea he really did almost die, and I stood him up, tears me apart. Of everything I thought I’d feel, anger is at the top of my list. For once, however, it’s not self-loathing.