Daddy's Little Chica (Daddy 16) - Page 19

Chapter Nine

Cesar parked down the street a bit and slipped into the house. He took the back stairs as the housekeeper said to and then made his way down the hallway to Amber’s door. He tried the door and was surprised it was locked.

He put his ear to the door and didn’t hear anything. He removed his wallet from his pocket and slipped a card out. It took less than two seconds to unlock and open the door.

He entered the room and closed the door behind him. The room was very dim, but he could see the mound of covers in the bed and headed that way.

Right away, he knew something was very wrong. There was a stack of plates with sandwiches on them. Some had a few bites, but others hadn’t been touched at all. There were empty bottles of water strewn all over and a few bottles of pain relievers.

He touched the food, and some were as hard as rocks.

Cesar turned on the bedside light and put his attention on Amber. He pulled the blankets down and grimaced.

She was lying on her side facing him, and he noticed how pale she looked first. She was as pale as the wrinkled robe she was wearing. Her hair was limp and greasy, like she hadn’t washed in in several days. Even asleep, he could tell she was in pain, and he wanted to howl.

He sat down beside her. “Pequeña, wake up for me.”

She didn’t move.

“Honey, it’s Cesar. I want to talk to you.”

She moved a bit and cringed in pain. “Cesar,” she said and started crying.

“Yes, pequeña. I’m right there.”

“No, you’re a dream I keep having. No one will help me or care that I hurt.”

Cesar smoothed her hair from her face. “That’s not true, honey. I’ve been calling you for days, and I was so worried, I broke into your house and room to see you to make sure you’re okay.”

She squinted her eyes open and stared at him. “You’re here?”

“Yes, pequeña. Tell me how long you’ve been sick and what the doctor has said?”

“I’m not sick. I fell down the stairs, and I haven’t seen a doctor.”

“Wait! What? Why haven’t you seen a doctor?”

“My mother won’t call one.”

“Where do you hurt?”

“Everywhere, but my ribs hurt the worst.”

“Fuck, if you broke a rib, it could have punctured a lung.”

“They don’t care if I die.”

He hated the look of misery on her face. “I’m calling an ambulance. I’d pick you up, but I’m afraid I’ll hurt you, and I want X-rays to determine how much damage was done.”

“They won’t let them in.”

“Do you want to bet? I’m calling in the police and a few friends, and all of us were cops. Now, I want you to rest.”

She nodded, closed her eyes, and slept.

His heart jerked painfully when he saw the tear slide down her face. Goddammit. They were going to pay for this.

He pulled his phone out. “Jessie, I need you and a few others at this address.” He went on to describe the situation.

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