I turned away from Sydney and looked at Alix, who was trying to cover herself. In her fight with Sydney, he’d torn her t-shirt and bra, her right breast exposed to the light. I immediately pulled my shirt over my head and handed it to her and grabbed the money off the table. “That’s not his.”
Alix pulled my shirt over her head and tried to get up, but her legs were unable to support her. Trembling, she collapsed to the ground and I caught her, letting the stacks of cash fall to the floor. Ignoring the money, I picked her up in my arms, holding her tight.
“Shhh Alix, it’s okay. I’m here, I’ll protect you,” I whispered before turning my attention back to the still-dazed Sydney. “When I get out of here I’m calling the cops. I swear, if I ever see you again, I’m not going to let you leave alive.”
“My bag,” Alix whispered. “Please, my bag.”
I snagged the bag with my free hand and carried her out of the apartment and out onto the walkway. Neighbors were already sticking their heads out of their apartments, curious as to what was happening. I tried to enlist their help, but nobody would get involved. I tried again in what Spanish I remembered from my childhood and one class in legal Spanish—I asked them to call the police.
One of the neighbors, a middle-aged woman with two kids sticking their heads around her legs, nodded and slammed her door. I could only hope that she was calling the cops, but I wasn’t going to stick around to make sure. This wasn’t the sort of neighborhood that the police responded to quickly, and I worried it would be more dangerous to stick around than to get the hell out of there.
Alix was able to walk a bit as we went down the stairs, and I helped her into the passenger seat. She had a torn shirt, but didn’t look otherwise harmed. She was definitely a bit rattled though. “My car,” she started to object, and I shook my head.
“I’ll call a tow truck for it or something,” I said, firing up the engine. I pulled away and headed toward the Interstate. “Alix, did he touch you?”
“No, you got there in time,” she said, her voice cracking as she realized how lucky she’d been. “But if you hadn’t . . . ”
She broke down sobbing, and I pulled over, leaving the engine running. Reaching over, I took her hand carefully. “Alix . . . Alix, look at me.”
She looked up at me, her eyes puffy with tears, and I knew something for certain: I’d never leave her. “Kade . . . I’m sorry . . . I screwed up so much . . . ” she got out, before the sobs took over again.
I held her hand, wanting to reach over and hold her closer but knowing that she was going through the aftereffects of domestic violence. If I comforted her the way I wanted, I could actually end up hurting her more, scaring her. Instead, I held her hand carefully, looking at her with concern in my eyes. “Alix, do you want me to take you to a hospital?”
She shook her head. “No . . . I’m not injured, just a torn t-shirt. The hospital can’t do anything. Can you just take me home?”
“Doesn’t he know where that is?” I asked. “Would you be safe there?”
“I’m safe wherever you are,” she said, looking me in the eyes. “Take me with you, please.”
I nodded, understanding the message behind her blue eyes. Driving north on the city streets again, I got back on the Interstate, this time intending to go south toward Laguna Hills. “No,” Alix said as she saw which lane I was getting into. “Not Laguna. Derek and Mom can’t know about this. Please, Kade.”
“Where?” I asked, looking at her. “And why can’t they know?”
“Syd was blackmailing me,” she said, shame creeping on her face. “He and I . . . he has photos of me that would destroy Derek. If those come out, there’s no way he’ll get elected. It’s also why there can’t be any cops. I can’t go to them, not unless we want the photos to come out.”
I nodded and drove on, skipping the off-ramp south. “Okay. Well, you mentioned never being to Portland. What about visiting with me for a few days? Think you can do it?”
Alix nodded, then grinned sheepishly. “I don’t have any clothes though.”
For some strange reason, I found the comment hilarious. Leave it to Alix. We were driving away from a blackmailing asshole of a man, who had evidence (I didn’t know what at the time) that would ruin my father’s political ambitions, and I had no idea if Alix had work lined up or not, or if this situation with Sydney would hurt her career. Still, her first concern was that she didn’t have any clothes to wear. I chuckled and pointed toward her bag. “Tell you what. Pull out your cellphone and find us the closest place to buy some clothes. We’ll get you something to wear that will at least last until we can get to Portland. It may not be the most fashionable thing in the world, but you’ll be comfortable.”