Hector set his helmet down on the closest chair to the door then pulled his jacket off and draped it over the back of the chair. “Will?”
He heard the soft pat of footsteps then Will appeared in the doorway to the kitchen. He made quite the fetching picture. His lower lip was caught between his teeth, and he was holding on to a dishtowel as if it would save him from Armageddon.
“Hi, I…uh…wasn’t sure when you were going to be home.” He gestured over his shoulder. “I made you something to eat, I mean, if you’re hungry.”
Hector was intrigued by the soft flush filling Will’s cheeks. “You made me something to eat?”
“Uh, yeah, but if you’re not hungry, I can put away until tomorrow. It’ll heat up just fine tomorrow.”
“I could eat.”
He was surprised by the beaming smile Will gave him before spinning around and hurrying back into the kitchen. Hector followed a bit slower pace, trying to figure out why the sight of that sweet smile made his gut clench.
The table was set for two. A glass pan of something sat in the middle of the table. It looked a little haphazard, but it smelled delicious.
“It’s called tamale pie,” Will said. “I found a recipe for it on the internet, and I knew we had all the stuff to make it.”
“It smells good.” Hector sat down then waited for Will to sit across from him.
Will grabbed Hector’s plate and spooned a large helping onto it before putting about half of that amount on his own plate. He handed Hector the bowl of salad then the sour cream.
It took Hector a moment to realize that Will was waiting until he was served before serving himself. He didn’t know if it came from his time as a foster kid or his time with Wilson, and he wasn’t sure it mattered. It was clear Will was trying to appease him.
“Are you afraid of me, Will?” Hector knew he should have kept his mouth shut when Will’s face paled, but his need to know overrode his good sense. “I’ll never hurt you, you know.”
Will licked his lips before replying. “No, I know that.”
Hector didn’t think he did. Maybe it was time to do more than grunt. “You’re safe here, Will. I don’t like abuse in any form, including emotional or mental abuse. You will not be made to feel less than you are. Your needs or desires will not be used against you. And you will never be placed in a position where you have to fear for your safety, not here.”
Will’s forehead puckered with a frown even as his head tilted to one side as if the man was curious. “Why do you care?”
Hector sighed before setting his fork down. This wasn’t an easy story to tell. His gut clenched with dread just thinking about it. “My mother came to this country while she was pregnant with me. She was escaping an abusive marriage and had family here, but the man who abused her followed her so my mother went on the run. I was about three years old when he finally found us.”
Will gasped. “Did he kill her?”
“No, but not for lack of trying. I was placed in foster care for a while because my mother was in the hospital recovering after he beat her nearly to death. Those foster parents turned out to be the best thing that happened to us. After my mother got out of the hospital, they took us both in and kept us safe. They introduced us to some people who were part of an underground system to help abused women and their children escape their abusers.”
“There’s an underground for that?”
Hector nodded. “They help women get away from abusive situations, moving them from home to home, hiding them and helping them get on their feet so they no longer have to depend on their abusers to have a roof over their heads or food in the cupboards. Sometimes it’s just transportation to somewhere else. Other times, they help them establish an entirely new identity. Whatever the women need.”
“How did they help you and your mom?”
Hector found himself smiling. That time in his life had been scary and confusing, but he had fond memories of the people they had met and the lengths his mother went through to keep them both safe.
“We were supposed to move to a new town and start living as someone else. It’s kind of like witness protection, except without the law enforcement behind it. Most of the women in these situations can’t go to the police for one reason or another. Maybe they don’t think they will be believed or maybe their abuser has money or is actually in law enforcement. Whatever the situation, they don’t feel as if they can trust the police to keep them safe.”
It might have been why it had taken him so long to warm up to Sheriff Riley. He had learned not to trust law enforcement.
“Which was it for you and your mother?”
“My father was the police chief in our hometown. Even if someone believed my mom, no one would have done anything. It was a small town, smaller than Cade Creek, and he was king of it all. No one went against him. He could have beat my mother to death in the middle of the street, and no one would have said anything.”
“Your father is a cop?”
“Was a cop,” Hector corrected. “He tangled with the wrong man and got killed when I was ten.” Hector had cried at the time for the loss of a father, but not for the man himself.
“But what happened to your mom? Did he get her again?”
