Page 47 of South Beach Bodyguards

I shook my head. “I don’t need an ambulance.”

“Is this your boyfriend? Does he hit you a lot?” The cop’s voice sounded tired, like he’d already realized this might be a thankless domestic abuse case. I wondered how much of that they saw on the force. Probably more than anyone would ever imagine in such a beautiful and upscale community.

I didn’t feel like explaining anything to him. I just wanted to crawl into bed and sleep. With Ryan. That made me cry harder.

“Look, he’s not telling us anything. You need to tell me what happened.”

“Isabel!”

That drew my head off the floor. It was Ryan, looking frantic as he came into the house and rushed over to me.

“Back off,” the cop said, holding his hand up. “Who are you?”

“I’m her…brother.”

Hardly. But let him say what he needed to say. I tried to sit up, but Ryan urged me to stay put. He pushed my hair back. “Are you okay? Please tell me you’re okay.”

“I’m fine. Just sore.”

“Can you get her to tell you what happened here?” the cop asked. He sounded annoyed.

“Yeah, just give me a minute with her. Alone.”

The cop rolled his eyes. “Fine.”

Ryan studied my face. “Is. What happened? Why would Juan attack you?”

“He kept saying something about a gun, that he needs it back. That you have it. What is he talking about?”

For a second I just stared at Isabel, my thoughts muddied. My heart rate was still coming back down to normal after my frantic drive to the house. The thought that anything could have happened to Isabel… It made me want to punch walls and kick shit and yell. Loud. Like a bear. She looked battered and bruised and scared and that did things to me. It made me want to pick her up and hold her and cradle her all night, like I should have done in the first place. So I did. I pulled her head into my lap and caressed her cheek, gently shoving her hair off her face. I never should have left her.

I had no clue with that fucking price Juan wanted from me. “I don’t think I even know Juan. Why would he want a gun from me?” From what I’d seen on my way up the driveway as they escorted Juan out he’d looked like he was on drugs. It looked like a meth high to my inexpert eye.

“Weren’t you talking about a gun with Alejandro? One that went missing?”

Shit. The gun from the poker game. But why now? And why wouldn’t the guys just come to me and ask for it back? Or just write it off as a loss. I was turning it around in my head when the cop came back over to me.

“Hey, did you know your sister’s boyfriend has a warrant out on him? Murder.”

My grip on Isabel tightened. “No. I had no idea.”

“Gang related. He’s been underground, bouncing from one location to another. Miami PD hasn’t been able to find him. Guess he figured he’d hang out in the Gables.”

Twenty bucks said the gun I’d won in the drunken poker game was the murder weapon. Fuck.

The officer looked down at Isabel. “Where did you meet him?”

“Online.”

His expression softened. “Look, you seem like a nice girl. Run a background check on guys you date. This guy has three arrests for assault and two for armed robbery.”

Isabel looked to me, searching my face. She wanted me to tell the police that it wasn’t that simple. That Juan had targeted her to get to me.

“I don’t know Juan,” I told the cop. “But Isabel said he was asking her to get the gun for her, and I’m thinking maybe he’s talking about a gun I won in a poker game about a year ago. Does that fit the timeframe?”

“Yes. Where is the gun now?”

I shifted Isabel off my lap and stood up, every instinct in me knowing this was dangerous. Involving the cops in any of my personal business or in Mickey’s business was risky, but it was the ethical thing to do. They would need ballistics on the weapon to make conviction easier. “I think it’s in my safe. I just tossed it in there the night I won it and I haven’t touched it since then.” I helped Isabel sit up. “I’ll go get it.”

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