He pushes to his feet with a groan, then shuffles over to the wall separating us. “Since I left your apartment. You never shut your sliding glass door. I had to know if the police took care of everything.”
“You listened in?” A part of me wants to tell him how rude that was, but there’s something sweet about the gesture. Protective. Kind.
“Wait…I heard the football match. You did not watch?”
He shrugs his left shoulder and rubs his jaw. Is it swollen? In the semi-darkness, I cannot tell.
“Got a bowl of chips and can of soda on the coffee table. In case anyone came knocking. But no. I didn’t watch.”
I brace a hand on the railing, steadying myself as I retrieve the ice pack. “In case anyone came knocking?”
“I don’t know why you said you’d ‘keep my name out of this,’ but I figured if the National Police wanted to talk to me, probably best they not find me eavesdropping on a member of the vice president’s inner circle.”
I snap my jaw shut. The policewouldhave arrested him for that. “Mierda. I am sorry, Leo. I did not think…”
“It’s okay. No one came. I couldn’t hear much, but it didn’t sound like they gave you any trouble. Did they?”
I shake my head, then regret the motion. The balcony spins around me. Grabbing the railing, I pray I don’t pass out.
“Domina!” Leo’s warm hand covers mine. “Slow, deep breaths.”
I let him hold on—or maybe I will him to—until I feel steady, then turn to meet his gaze. He’s reaching around the partition at an awkward angle, and lines of pain tighten around his lips.
“I’m okay.”
“The hell you are. You need a doctor. You lost consciousness. But I can see it in your eyes. You’re not going. No matter what I say.”
Despite his words, his voice is so gentle—and deep—that when he lets go, I feel the loss.
“Will you at least take my phone number?” he asks. “So you can text me if you feel sick in the middle of the night?”
“But if I lock my door, you will not be able to leap onto the patio and rescue me.” My smile eases a small measure of my worry, but Leo’s gaze is deadly serious.
“If you’re in trouble, a locked door won’t stop me.”
The gravel to his voice—and his intense stare—tell me he isveryconfident in his ability to save me again if I need it. “Whoareyou? Rambo?”
His rough chuckle shouldn’t be this sexy. And Idefinitelyshould not be leaning my back against the railing so I can get a better look at him. Or so he can get a better look at me.
“If you tell me you forgot my name already, I’m really going to be worried,” he says. Then, one corner of his mouth lifts into a half smile. “Or insulted.”
“Of course not! Your name is Mike.Or…Juan? No, wait. Brian.” We both laugh, and I feel lighter than I have in days, despite my pounding head. “I have to know,Leo…where did you learn to fight? Or swing onto balconies?”
His shoulders hunch, and he turns to stare out over the courtyard. In the distance, lights from the seaside promenade twinkle like diamonds in the moonlight.
“Not easy to explain.”
“Try?”
I touch the ice pack to my cheek and swallow a pained whimper. My eye is swollen half shut. My entire body aches. My neck, my shoulder, my back. All bruised so badly, I worry how terrible I will feel tomorrow. I need a hot bath, another handful of aspirin, and a full night’s sleep. If only I could stop replaying the attack over and over again in my mind.
Leo pushes off the railing with a heavy sigh. “Domina, given where you work, anything I tell you puts me at risk.”
“United States government, then.” Shock plays over the left side of his face. The right doesn’t move the same way, and I study his lopsided frown. “NSA? CIA?”
“Shit. No.” Bracing his hand on the wrought iron between us, he meets my gaze through the intricate design. “I’m retired. Can we leave it at that?”
There’s something in his tone, but I’m too tired and sore to figure out what it is. “You came to my rescue tonight, Leo. Even if Manuel—the Vice President—or the National Police asked me about you, I would keep your secret.”
