Nightcrawler (Trackers #1)

Chapter Ten

MIGUEL

After hanging up with Jamie, I relaxed back in Raven’s truck, working myself into a bad mood as I imagined all the terrible things the longshoreman fugitive was going to do to me when I went to arrest him. The minute we started driving up into the Hollywood Hills, I became aware of Raven’s wealth all over again. One of the oldest neighborhoods in Los Angeles, had some of the most incredible views in the Southland and I knew even the lowliest teardown hovel sold for a million and a half. I’d known the guy was rich, but this was bordering on ridiculous. I swallowed hard as he drove up and parked in front of a rambling forties-era Midcentury Modern.

“Nice neighborhood,” I grumbled under my breath.

He turned, smiling sunnily, only to have his smile die when he spied my expression. He opened his mouth to say something when a high-pitched voice called his name. “Raven!”

We both turned to look at a man as he came striding down the short, front walk. He was wearing skinny jeans, flip-flops, and a pink crop top T-shirt which made him look like the most flamboyant twink I’d ever seen. He stopped at the driver’s side of the truck and bent at the waist where he’d planted both hands on the window that Raven had rolled down. He peered into the cab, looking first at Raven and then me.

His eyebrows were plucked, his beard was absent, and his bleached highlights—much longer than the shaved sides of his haircut—fell over the front of his face, covering one eye. It was only then that I noticed several facial piercings, including two in the single, visible eyebrow, two in his nose, and at least four in various locations on his overly-plumped lips. The guy screamed gay which normally wasn’t a problem for me at all. Hell, I’d taken guys like this to bed after picking them up in bars but ordinarily, effeminate men really weren’t my jam. I liked guys who left a little to the imagination and this guy didn’t…at all.

“Oh, I see you brought a trick home with you, Raven,” he said nastily.

“A what?” I barked, practically growling at the asshole. The guy’s eyes widened as he took a step back. I was going to show him what a trick was if it was the last thing I did.

“Ned!” Raven said, swinging the door open so fast, he let out a gasp. In his haste to exit the truck, he’d completely forgotten about his injury.

“What’s wrong?” Ned cried, reaching for him as I did the same, grabbing his right thigh with one hand to hold him in place. Ned glared at me. “Get your hands off him, you…you brute!” He pointed a stabby finger at me. “What have you done to my poor Raven?”

“Your poor Raven?” I squawked. I’d never hurt a guy in my life, and I wasn’t about to start. I also wasn’t going to stand idly by and let anyone call me a brute.

“Ned!”

I watched as Raven slid slowly out of the truck, and I opened my door, jumping out and coming around as he stood in front of this Ned dude. I towered a good six inches over his head, and he blanched, stepping back as if I was about to hurt him.

“Back off, rough trade! I have mace!” He held up a can and I would have laughed at his description of me if I hadn’t seen the chemical weapon pointed directly at my face. I stopped in my tracks just before I got to Raven’s side. He looked slightly less steady than he should, and I felt the overwhelming urge to go help him.

I held up both hands. “Easy does it, there,” I said calmly.

“Ned!” Raven screamed for the third time. “Miguel is my friend! Put that shit down!”

The skinny little twink’s hand shook and I was half sure he was about to spray me and half sure it was going to go off by accident…if he ever figured out how it worked.

“I’m his friend, Ned,” I said sarcastically.

He glared at me and lifted the can higher. “You’re making him say you’re his friend because you have nefarious designs on his person!”

I let out a surprising bark of laughter as Raven stepped between us and took the mace out of Ned’s hand.

“Nefarious designs on his person?” I asked, laughing. “How many episodes of Adam-12 did you watch today?”

“You’re…you’re an unkind beast!” he shouted, face reddening.

“And you’re drama with a capital D, hotpants.”

“Ned, stop this right now. This is Miguel. He really is a friend, and he really means you no harm,” Raven explained. He twisted around to look at me and I could see the amusement dancing in his eyes. “And you need to stop too. You’re just making things worse.”

I snorted. “Tell your boyfriend there that he’d better never point his mace or anything else harmful in my direction again or I’ll end him.”

“That’s it!” Ned shrieked, waving a pointy finger at me. “He threatened me! He threatened me with bodily harm, Raven.” He produced a phone from somewhere and swiped it. “I’m calling 911 so the police will arrest you!”

Raven yanked the phone out of his hand before he could make the call. “Knock it off and come in the house.” He turned to look at me, desperation and pleading all over his face as he lowered his voice. “Come on inside before one of my neighbors really does call the cops.”

“Is that okay with you, fancy pants, or do I scare you too much?” I curled my fingers into claws to show him. I was almost having too much fun with this tool. I hated being judged and nothing bugged me more than being stereotyped as something I wasn’t.

“Come on,” Raven said, waiting for Ned to lead the way up the walk to the front door. He followed behind and I couldn’t stop myself from watching Raven’s cute bubble butt as I did as he asked.

The inside of his house was a throwback to 1950s elegance. With period furnishings and a wide-open, single-story living room and windows spanning the back of the house, it was breathtaking. The views looked out onto the Los Angeles skyline with downtown high rises clustered in the distance. Sun lit up the living and dining rooms and the dark hardwood floors were covered with rugs, making the entire house seem inviting. The walls in the foyer were covered with a wallpaper which appeared to be made of some sort of grass or shredded bamboo giving the house an Asian feel.

One entire wall in the living room was painted with an Asian-inspired mural reminding me of a hotel I’d stayed in while on leave in Hawaii. Samurai warriors on steeds carried katanas and short swords tucked into their belts as they rode over the rice paddies with a skyline of snow-topped mountains in the background. Twisted, black tree branches were covered with pale pink cherry blossoms falling to a carpet of pink. As I got closer, I realized that there was a sheen to the entire wall. It wasn’t a painting at all, and instead, sheets of delicate and probably silk wallpaper. It was so beautiful, it belonged in a museum, not a home.

“How’s she doing?” Raven asked and my attention was drawn to the two men standing several feet from me. Raven wasn’t looking at his boyfriend but instead, down the hall.

“Go see for yourself. She missed you,” Ned said, shrugging. “You think she doesn’t know when you don’t come home?” He turned to give me a withering look. I ignored it. He’d hated me on sight and no wonder. As far as I knew, Ned thought his boyfriend had been out with me all night.

“I called her.” Raven turned to look at me. “I need to go check on my grandmother, Miguel.”

I thought he needed to sit down but if he needed to check on his grandmother, I wasn’t going to argue. I nodded. “I’ll wait here.”

Raven seemed to think about that for a second before gesturing to me. “Come and meet her. I bet she’ll love you.”

“Raven! What are you saying?” Ned shouted, stomping his foot. “This…this…person, shouldn’t be allowed anywhere near her. She’s frail.”

Raven rounded on him, glaring. “First of all, lower your damned voice. This is her house, and I don’t want her to hear any shouting. Secondly, I live here with her and because of that, you have no business telling me who I can introduce her to. You’ve been a good caregiver to her, Ned, but that doesn’t mean you can run my life.” He shook his head. “Don’t forget yourself.”

“Fine,” Ned huffed, bowing at the waist. “I forget myself, master .” When he straightened, he sent me a glare so murderous, I would have burst into flames if he’d had his way. “It’s time for her tea and her meds anyway…if I still have a job that is.”

“You still have a job,” Raven replied.

Ned gave a sharp nod and without another word, he spun on his heel and swished away, headed in the other direction. I had no doubt he was headed to a kitchen at the other end of the house. If he wasn’t such a snotty little bitch, I would have laughed. I turned back to Raven who was rolling his eyes. The last ten minutes were the most entertaining of my life. I had to admit to feeling relief in finding out that indeed, Ned was only a caregiver or a nurse of some sort. I didn’t really know why thinking, even for a brief few minutes, that he was more to Raven, had hurt.

The memory of the kisses we’d shared was a reminder that I was lying to myself.

I followed Raven to the end of the hall where light spilled from a doorway. He stopped, peering into the room. As his face lit up with an expression of sheer love and devotion, he smiled.

“Nana.”

“Raven,” came the elderly voice from inside the room. “Come here.”

He turned and gestured for me to come forward before turning back to her. “Nana, I want you to meet someone. His name is Miguel. Miguel, this is my grandmother, Angelica.”

I walked to the open doorway, not exactly sure why he wanted to introduce me to his grandmother. I had to admit I was curious but at the same time, nervous. The small woman sat in a comfortable armchair in one corner of the room with a Navajo blanket covering her legs. Her wrinkled skin was both tawny and translucent at the same time and she was—just as Ned had described—frail. Her gray hair fell over her shoulders in two long braids, and as I stepped into the room, she held out one gnarled hand.

“Come here, Miguel.”

I walked over to her and it was only when I noticed the cloudiness in both pale eyes, that I realized she was blind. I took her hand and bent down. “It’s nice to meet you.”

She smiled up at me, covering our clasped hands with her other one. “It’s nice to meet you too.” Her voice, though weak, belied the strength in her arthritic fingers and I felt suddenly overwhelmed by protective instincts for this total stranger. When she reached up and slid a palm over my cheek, letting it linger, I had the overwhelming urge to lean into it. “So strong.” She dropped her hand and let go of mine, before holding out her arms. “Raven.” I stepped aside and Raven went to her, grabbing his side, and leaning down to her. She immediately reached out and cupped both of his cheeks before worry furrowed her brows. “You’re hurt. What happened?”

“I’m okay, Nana,” Raven replied, taking her hands and squeezing them. I could hear the sigh in his voice, and I knew he wasn’t doing as well as he said he was. He’d been going strong all morning and I kicked myself for allowing him to talk me into driving his own truck. He needed pain medication and to rest. The towing company was open until six, so we had plenty of time before we got out there. I’d have just as soon told him to forget it and leave it for the next day, but I knew the storage fees for leaving it overnight would add another 200 dollars to the bill, making it even more astronomical. At least here at home, I could make him rest for a few hours where he’d be comfortable before we had to hit the road again.

“You’re hurt,” she repeated. “Sit down and tell me what happened so that I don’t have to ask your friend.” Her accent was definitely Native American, and I guessed, like Raven, she was Navajo. They came from the Southwestern part of the United States, and it showed in the blanket with the strong red, turquoise, black and white design. So that meant Arizona most likely. One of the guys in my unit had come from those parts and he’d been raised on the largest reservation in the state—in the nation—as it so happened.

He straightened and walked over to a hard-backed chair, picking it up and dragging it over to her where he sat, much too gingerly for my liking. “Now, Nana. What do you want to know?”

She sighed and sat back in the chair, glancing up at me with unseeing eyes before looking back at Raven. “What happened?”

“We went out on a recovery for a piece of stolen property and the man in the house shot me.”

Her slow nod was surprising to me. She didn’t seem the least bit surprised but when she looked at me, I was almost convinced her gaze was accusatory.

“Miguel helped me get out of that situation alive, called a friend who’s a medic, and then saw to it that I was patched up. I’m going to be fine, Nana, really.”

I thought it was interesting that she’d somehow known Raven was hurt but hearing him be so frank with her about the details of the gunshot felt strange. Clearly, the two had a very close relationship, close enough that they could trust each other with something as scary as a gunshot.

She looked up at me. “Thank you, Miguel.” She glanced over at Raven. “Now, you need to go lie down.”

“I’m fine, Nana.”

“Don’t argue with your grandmother,” Ned said from the doorway. I turned to see him standing there holding a tray with a cup of tea and several pill bottles on it. I’d heard him come up behind us and could only hope he’d not heard anything about being shot. Ned was just the kind of guy who’d call the police and report Raven’s gunshot. I was relieved when he merely swept into the room, and Raven stood up, moving the chair out of his way, setting it back where it had been. He met my eyes, and we both walked to the door.

“It was nice meeting you, Angelica,” I said to the older woman.

She smiled. “You take care of my Raven.”

I was shocked by her trust, and the feeling of warmth that settled in my belly was something I hadn’t felt for twenty years.

“Yes, ma’am,” I said, turning and following Raven back down the hall.

“Would you like something to drink while I make breakfast?” Raven asked, continuing through the living room and into the kitchen.

“Listen,” I said, catching up with him. “You need to rest.” We walked into a room bathed in sunshine. I wasn’t sure if it was the lime green tile on the walls, the hand painted flowers on many of them, or the simple black and white checkerboard floor tile, but the entire room made me feel lighter somehow. “Why don’t you sit down and let me make you some breakfast.” I took his elbow and steered him to a dinette table in a corner and he scooted onto one of the fluffy, red Naugahyde cushions. I caught the grimace he tried to hide before turning to the refrigerator, a white, older model Frigidaire which was a throwback from the 60s, complete with chrome hardware and the rounded corners of vintage refrigerators.

The whole room, from the green tile on the walls and countertops to the sunlight pouring in from a window over the double sink, reminded me of my own grandmother’s kitchen. Several pill bottles sat on the countertop with Angelica’s name on them and I turned to make sure Raven was still seated and relaxing. I opened the refrigerator to pull out eggs. I didn’t think he would mind if I made him some food. The inside of the fridge was well stocked, and to my surprise, confirmed it to be an original, not a fancy retro reproduction, though, I might have been wrong. I pulled out a green, plastic bowl filled with extra-large eggs and a butter dish before opening cupboards and taking out a bowl.

“Silverware is in the drawer to the right of the sink,” Raven said, sounding tired. “And if you don’t mind, my Nana keeps some Tylenol in the cupboard behind you.”

I turned around and felt all the air being sucked out of my lungs. Inside glass-fronted cupboards facing the fridge was a set of china in a pattern I recognized. It was set on an ivory background were large, pink, hand-painted roses with green leaves outlined with pale brown branches. My own mother had owned a set of the very same china pattern and I’d never liked it. I thought it was gaudy and ugly, and now it held nothing other than bad memories for me…memories of the last time I’d seen the china smashed on the ground, covered in their blood. I stood stock still in the center of the kitchen, staring at the cupboards, trying desperately to scrub the images and the twenty-year-old memories from my brain.

“Miguel, what’s wrong?”

My ears were ringing as I stared at the dishes, remembered my mother and father tied back-to-back on chairs in what was left of our dining room. Both of my beloved parents had been beaten and stabbed by home invaders who’d come into the house while my mother was preparing dinner, and my father was changing clothes after just arriving home from work.

I’d been at high school football practice, and I’d walked into a scene of horror. I can still remember screaming and falling at my mother’s feet as I stared up at her bruised face. They’d brutalized her. I’d called the police and young patrol officer, Cassidy Ryan, had shown up with his training officer, Mike Williams. They’d taken a shaking, sobbing, grief-stricken boy to the bedroom and waited for Children’s Services to arrive, keeping me calm.

“Miguel?”

I turned and looked over at him and whatever he’d seen on my face, made him move. He was out of the dinette and across the room as fast as he could make it. He pulled me into his arms, and I wrapped him up in mine, clinging to him but still cognizant of his wounds as the horror of that day washed over me once again. Here in Raven’s arms, I felt safe, safe to look at the china in his grandmother’s cabinets and feel like I could breathe. Cassidy and Mike had offered a scared fifteen-year-old safety that awful day, and now Raven was here, offering the same without even knowing what was wrong.

“You’re shaking,” Raven whispered into the side of my neck. “What is it?”

I loosened my hold and glanced over at the Desert Rose china pattern before returning to his cobalt eyes, wide with concern and worry for me. He didn’t let go, just kept his arms around my waist, just held me up, if not literally, but by simply being here for me, and offering me what comfort he could.

“I’m all right. Let me make breakfast and I’ll sit with you.”

“I can do it.”

I shook my head. “No, but please, grab that Tylenol and I’ll get you some water.” I didn’t want to go anywhere near the glass-fronted cupboard with the reminder of the worst day of my life.

“If you’re sure,” Raven said, finally letting go.

“Go on. You need to sit. I can see the pain all over your face.” I turned away from him and walked over to the sink where the eggs were. Opening the large drawer beneath the Viking six-burner stove, the only modern appliance in the room other than a dishwasher, I pulled out a frying pan and started cooking scrambled eggs. I found some bread and made toast, adding a little dried basil to the eggs along with salt and pepper, topping them with a few sprinkles of cheddar I’d found in a package in the fridge. Not the healthiest thing I could have made for him, but Raven didn’t have an ounce of fat on him anyway.

I set the plates with our eggs and some orange juice down on the kitchen table and slid into the booth across from Raven. I could feel him studying me and knew I owed him an explanation. Instead, I decided to buy myself some time and dug into my eggs, shoveling them in until the plate was empty as Raven ate silently across from me. I looked at the dry toast and realized that’s what I should have eaten instead. My stomach was roiling. When I finally looked up, he was still watching me. I lifted my hand and ran my fingers through my hair before leaning back in the booth.

“I’m sorry about that. I owe you an explanation.”

Raven frowned at me. “Only if you want to, Miguel,” he quietly replied.

I turned and glanced at the glass-fronted cabinets before dragging my gaze back to his worried blue eyes. “It was the china pattern. I guess—I guess it triggered a flashback.”

Raven turned to look at the cabinet, then glanced back with a furrowed brow. “My grandmother’s china?”

I nodded. “My mother had the same pattern on her china.” I took a deep breath. I didn’t like sharing what had happened with anyone. Vonne was the only person I’d told about it, but he was practically family. “A little over twenty years ago, home invaders broke into our house. They killed both of my parents and destroyed everything breakable before stealing my mother’s jewelry and my father’s watch. The things they took weren’t worth much. We weren’t wealthy. We lived in a middle-class neighborhood in Atwater Village.”

“Near Dodger Stadium?”

I nodded. “Like I said, it wasn’t the things they took…it was how they died…what they did to them.” I heard my voice quiver as I pictured the scene. I shook my head, looking at my lap, all my appetite gone.

Raven gasped, putting a hand over his mouth. “Oh, Miguel, how awful.”

“I was in high school. I’d stayed late for football practice or I would have been home to save them.”

“You were just a teenager, right? You probably would have been killed too.” His eyes were sad and filled with pity.

I nodded. “I was fifteen, almost sixteen. I was big, played football, and thought I was invincible, but you’re right. Cassidy said there had to be more than one. My father was a big guy, even bigger than I am now. He worked in construction, so he was in great shape. If he knew my mom was in danger, there’s no way he wouldn’t have tried to fight.” I shook my head. “There had to be at least two if not three or more.”

“That’s how you know Cassidy Ryan,” Raven said as if coming to a revelation.

“And Mike Williams.” I nodded. “They were the first officers to respond. Cassidy was a rookie LAPD cop, having just left the Navy. I don’t know if you know that he was a SEAL. The minute I met him…just the way he was with me that day, man, I was really messed up.”

“I didn’t know he was a SEAL. That’s impressive.”

I nodded. “Anyway, Mike was his training officer, and they were the first to respond.” I dropped my head from Raven’s gaze, looking down at my empty plate and feeling my stomach do a slow roll. “If it hadn’t been for their consistent presence in my life after that day, I might have gone down the wrong path. They didn’t just drop me in a group home and leave me to rot or let me run the streets. Cassidy made me agree to a standing Sunday morning pick-up game in the LAPD’s gym and after that, breakfast with him and Mike.”

I smiled, remembering those breakfasts. “Basketball and pancakes. I met other cops and a lot of guys who were retired military. Instead of running the streets or getting involved with the wrong kids, they kept me on the straight and narrow and made it known how they felt about it when I stepped out of line. They followed my grades, helped me apply for a football scholarship, the whole nine yards. My parents didn’t have any family here in the States, so those two men stepped in and filled the gap. I love them both like fathers.”

“Thank God for Cassidy and Mike.”

“They still look out for me.” I drank my orange juice. Raven looked like he wanted to ask something but was hesitant. “It’s okay. Ask me what you want to ask.”

“Did they ever find the people who killed your folks?” His words were quiet as if worried that he was being too nosy. Now that the worst of it was out, I didn’t mind telling him.

I shook my head. “No, Cassidy told me they must have worn gloves, and a canvass of the neighbors turned up almost no leads. It remains a cold case.”

Raven reached across the Formica table and held out his hand. I took it and he squeezed. “Thank you for telling me something so personal, Miguel. I know that couldn’t have been easy.”

I took a shaky inhale of breath before letting go of his hand. My phone vibrated and I dug it out, recognizing the email address. I glanced up. “I’ve got some work to do, and you need to lie down for a few hours. You look dead on your feet.”

“I think I’ll do that. Feel free to have the run of the house. Ned has a room beside my Nana’s so if you need anything, ask him. He’s obnoxious but he knows now that I won’t let him push you around. My room’s at the end of the hall. Make yourself at home.”

I nodded. “Thanks, Raven.” I stood and picked up the dirty dishes, depositing them in the sink as Raven left the kitchen. After cleaning up, I felt better. This time when I glanced at the china in the cabinet, happy memories of my mom and dad filled my thoughts and I hurt just a little bit less.