He hadn’t been at the incident but he’d heard a report that Isabel was living in deplorable conditions with her mother, Mayte. A social worker had come to the apartment to remove Isabel, but Mayte, high on drugs, had refused to hand over her daughter. A standoff occurred and the FRS responded. There was some concern about Isabel’s health, so Darcie went in with Archer, one of their negotiators. His job had been to talk Mayte down, while Darcie’s had been to make sure Isabel was okay. But Mayte clutched Isabel and backed onto an unsafe deck. The railing gave way and Mayte plunged two stories.
Darcie darted forward in time to catch hold of Isabel’s calf and keep her from falling, but the wrenching motion injured Isabel’s knee badly enough to require surgery. Mayte suffered a serious concussion. The good news was that the head injury kept her in the hospital long enough to go into drug withdrawal and to agree to rehab.
Now Isabel was once again in another traumatizing situation. The poor kid. She’d seen so much at her tender age. Way too much.
“Isabel, it’s Noah,” he announced to keep from scaring her even more as he stepped into the room. “It’s safe to come out now. I’m going to help you into your chair.”
He knelt by the bed and peeked underneath. Despite her living conditions or her recent accident, Isabel always had a big smile, and she flashed white teeth with a wide gap in the top.
“Hi, princess,” Noah said.
“Abuelita put me here.” Her smile faltered. “I was worried.”
“Don’t worry. Everything’s okay.” He reached under the bed and maneuvered her free, being careful not to bang her injured leg. He curled her into his arms and gave her a hug. She looked up at him, eyes wide.
“Abuelita got hurt.”
“I know,” he said, trying to play it down. “Darcie’s taking good care of her.”
“I thought maybe—” She shook her head and frowned. “You and Darcie weren’t coming. Or you got hurt. Like that lady last week.”
“No need to worry about that, princess. We’re all just fine. And your grandmother will be fine, too.” The vehemence in Noah’s voice made her smile disappear. He didn’t mean to sound so intense, but come on. No child should have their life invaded by man’s brutality. “Let’s go see Darcie, okay?”
“Yes, please.” Isabel’s face lit up and Noah’s heart melted. There was something about this urchin that made him happy. If she survived all this trauma and still smiled, he should be able to do the same thing in his own life.
He settled her into the wheelchair and pushed her to the living room. Darcie ran her gaze over Isabel with a trained medical professional’s eyes.
“Noah said you were here, but you really are,” Isabel said, and smiled.
“Hold tight to the towel,” Darcie ordered Pilar, then crossed over to Isabel.
Darcie squatted by the chair, and Noah saw her wince before she hid it. Her injuries bothered her more than she let on. She offered Isabel a beaming smile that utterly captivated Noah. In a situation that wasn’t as dire as this one, he would...would what?
Do nothing. Exactly what he needed to do. What he’d done for years.
On the day he’d met Darcie, one look at her hit him like a battering ram, but he’d done nothing about it—would do nothing about it, other than swallowing down his feelings and acting professionally whenever he ran in to her.
Her smile widened even more and Noah had to step back to get a grip.
Concentrate, man. Concentrate. She’s just a victim and this is just another callout. Do your job.
“Don’t you know by now that nothing would keep me away from seeing you?” Darcie asked Isabel.
She flung tiny arms around Darcie’s neck. The child clung to Darcie as if she was her mother. With Mayte in rehab since her accident, Isabel had transferred her need for motherly love to Darcie. He wasn’t surprised that Darcie hadn’t been able to resist loving Isabel. Still, if Darcie realized how invested she’d become in Isabel’s well-being, Darcie would shut down as she had since she lost her daughter. She avoided getting too close to anyone to avoid getting hurt.
Noah got that. He’d lost a son, too. Not to death, but to distance. He’d bailed on his pregnant girlfriend Ashley in college. Stupid move. But he was young and could barely get to class on time. How could he be responsible for a son?
He regretted it now. Every day. So he totally understood the wall Darcie put up to keep from caring and getting hurt again.
The hug ended and Darcie stood up.
“Can I talk to you for a minute?” he asked her and tipped his head at the far side of the room.
“Do you need me to call an ambulance for Pilar or have you already done so?” he asked when he couldn’t be overheard.
“I have. They’re on the way.”
“Good. So will you be okay if I head outside to check on the action?”
A pained smile crossed her face, but she nodded anyway.
“Don’t worry,” he added. “I’ll stay within view of the house. If you need me you can call out.”
She gave just the barest hint of a nod as she grabbed his hand. Her still cold fingers squeezed weakly. “Thank you, Noah. For being here for us.”
“It’s what I do,” he said and ignored how his heart warmed at her gratitude. “Lock the door behind me and stay away from the windows.”
“You are leaving us?” Pilar cried out.
“It’s okay,” Darcie replied. “He’ll be right outside and the danger has passed.”
Noah nodded his agreement. Darcie’s comment was technically true. The danger had passed. For now.
Only for now.
Darcie had gotten a good look at the creep who’d attacked her and could identify him. The man had to realize that as well. He had no qualms about attacking a woman, so if he evaded the officers today, he’d be more than happy to come after her again.
And the next time the creep got to her, Noah feared he’d succeed in silencing her for good.
Darcie couldn’t quit shaking. Not from the chill in Pilar’s hospital room, but from the memory of the attack. It would be a long time before she could forget about the crushing arm that had come around her neck. The bullets whizzing past. Even if she could forget, her neck throbbed and her knees and hands stung from the abrasions. Despite Noah’s continued insistence that she needed medical attention, she’d tended to her own injuries while Pilar was in surgery for a repair to her shattered ulna.
Darcie tugged the collar on her shirt higher to hide the purpling marks from the attack. She would hate for the ugly bruises to scare Isabel or Pilar even more. Pilar was already staring at Darcie, her eyebrows in bushy arcs. She made the sign of the cross on her chest while mumbling something in Spanish. Darcie didn’t speak Spanish, but she knew the sweet woman was praying for her.
That wasn’t new. Pilar always offered up prayers for Darcie. It seemed odd that Pilar—a woman who had very little in life and had so many needs of her own to pray for—felt compelled to pray for her. It made Darcie uncomfortable to have someone treading on the edges of her personal life.
Needing a distraction for Pilar, Darcie spotted her iPad lying on the bedside table. Pilar worked from home