It has to work, she thought. It has to.
And right on the heels of that thought came another. I have to stop Sonny. Put an end to him. I have to put him away. No matter what it takes. I must. It’s the only way…
The only way she or any of the people she loved would ever be safe again.
With that realization neon bright in her mind, she heard a new commotion, voices raised in the corridor outside the exam room. One voice in particular.
“Hey, what’re you talkin’ about-family? I’m tellin’ you I am family. If this hadn’t happened, she’d be my wife right now!”
Sonny. Oh God, she thought, I’m not ready! I can’t do this! Jake… where are you?
Beyond the curtain there were murmurs, low and adamant, and Sonny’s voice rolling over them. Jimmy Joe and Riley were already moving to form a protective blockade, if need be, looking over at Eve to see if that was what she wanted. And it was-oh, it was. But how would she explain? Sonny was her fiancé, the man she supposedly loved enough that a few hours ago she’d been ready to pledge to honor and obey him until death-
Her heart skipped. She drew a catching breath, then nodded. But her eyes darted among the faces gathered around her like a panic-stricken mouse looking for a hiding place-Bella’s and Pop’s, so much alike, both gray and stormy; Summer’s more like Mom’s, sky-blue but clouded with compassion and worry.
And what about Evie’s eyes? What do they show?
She thought, He’ll look into them and know. How could she hide what she felt for him now-the fear, the loathing?
But the curtain was pulling back… and he was there. Sonny Cisneros, her fiancé-multimillionaire, loud and gregarious, bigger-than-life Sonny Cisneros-broad-shouldered and powerful looking in his expensive suit, no tie, expensive shirt open at the neck, showing gold chains and a thick nest of hair. He moved toward her like an emperor through a throng, sparing quick handshakes for the brothers-in-law, a little longer one for Pop, a one-armed hug for Mom…and then he was beside her bed, looming above her, bending over her… Reaching out to touch the bandage on her head, oh, so gently. Saying, with what sounded like a genuine break in his voice, “Evie…baby-look at you.”
Eve drew a shuddering breath, held it and heard herself squeak, “I’m sorry, Sonny, I’m sorry!” And once more and, please God, for the last time that night, burst into tears.
“Hey, what you got to be sorry for?” Sonny crooned; leaning close, brushing her forehead with his fingertips. His breath smelled like Scotch and breath mints. Eve’s stomach heaved, and she fought to control it. “You’re the one got beat up. Hey-they catch the miserable slimeball that did this, I’m gonna kill ‘im with my bare hands.”
“He took my engagement ring… the pearls you gave me-”
“Hey, what’s a pearl? Oyster poop, that’s all. I’ll buy you all the pearls you want. I’ll get you another ring, too. A rock is a rock. Important thing is, you’re gonna be okay. This is never gonna happen to you again, I promise you. I’m gonna make sure of that.”
“Honey-” Eve’s mother was patting her shoulder “-I think we should go now-leave you two alone. Don’t you think so, Pop?” She squeezed Eve’s hand and rubbed her arm as she moved away from her side, pausing to smile tearily at her past Sonny’s broad shoulder as she grabbed at Summer and made shooing motions at Mirabella. “Come, girls-we can come back tomorrow.”
“They’re going to keep me here a couple of days,” Eve said, sniffling. “I guess they’ll be admitting me soon-I’m just waiting for X rays.”
“We’ll be back tomorrow,” her mother assured her, “after you’ve had time to get some rest.” And she was herding everyone out of the exam room amidst foot-shufflings and hand-squeezings and awkward little pats on whatever part of her sheet-shrouded anatomy was closest. Eve caught a glimpse of her sisters’ faces, set and pale, clinging to hers until the last second, until the curtain swished back and she was alone… with Sonny.
It was strange. She could feel her heart pounding, feel her body trembling, feel the sticky dryness of fear in her throat-and yet there was a part of herself that felt detached from all that, as if she were sitting somewhere apart from the scene but watching events with a critical eye-the director, perhaps, judging her own performance. Fear… Okay, the fear is real, so go with that. Make it work for you…
“Sonny, the wedding, our beautiful wedding… all our plans-”
“Shh… Hey, what’d I tell you? It’s not your fault.”
“I don’t know what happened. The last thing I remember, I’d opened the champagne-I had this bottle I’d been saving, you know?-and I was going to find you. There was a little time before the ceremony, and I thought we could…” Sickness rose suddenly in her throat. Sonny was leaning down, his face blocking out the light as he pressed his lips to her undamaged cheek, then to the top of her head. The smell of his hair spray and aftershave almost made her gag.
“Shh…it’s okay, baby. We’ll make up for it, I promise you. As soon as you’re outa here-”
“It must have been so awful for you…” Shaking like a leaf, she felt herself lift her arms and twine them around his neck…
In a windowless room not far away, Jake watched the scene on a hospital security monitor. He had a knot the size of a baseball in his gut, but his face betrayed only a slight frown of concentration, nothing that would have given him away even if the other two people in the room had been looking at him-which they weren’t. Like his, their eyes were glued to the monitor.
“Scared to death,” Jake’s partner, Burdell “Birdie” Poole, muttered into his knuckles. He had one arm folded across his barrel chest, the other bent at the elbow, the hand fisted and pressed against his mouth, and as he spoke leaned slightly away from the screen, as if by distancing himself from it physically he could disconnect emotionally, as well. Birdie looked, with his buzz haircut, slightly harassed look and gradually expanding waistline, like the family man he was. He kept a picture of his patient wife, Marjorie-a saint, in Jake’s opinion, and probably the only genuinely happy cop’s wife he knew-and their four chubby children on his desk and carried snapshots of them in his wallet When it came to women and kids he had a soft spot a mile wide. And a pit bull toughness when it came to the bad asses of the world that made Jake glad they were on the same side.
Now Birdie exhaled through his nostrils. “She’s shakin’ like a leaf-you can see it from here. She’s gonna blow it…
“Maybe not… maybe not.” His supervisor, Don Coffee, was leaning toward the bank of monitors, his weight on one forearm while the fingers of the other hand beat an erratic tattoo on the countertop, eyes riveted on the screen. Without turning his head, he said, “Redfield, you know the man-is he buying it?”
Jake snorted. The fact was, he did know Sonny Cisneros-just well enough to know there was no way in hell to know what the man was thinking. The guy was a sociopath-a man without a conscience. He played by nobody’s rules except his own.
Aloud, he said, “Why wouldn’t he buy it? Sure she’s shaking-she gets beat up and thrown into a Dumpster on the way to her own wedding, leaves the guy standing at the altar, no explanation, and now she’s facing him for the first time? Hell, be strange if she wasn’t shaking.” He knew his voice sounded like a junkyard dog’s growl, but didn’t make any effort to clear it or ease the tension in his jaws. The two men in the room with him were used to him tightening up whenever Cisneros’s name came into the conversation.