Hetch (Men OF S.W.A.T #1)(24)

“I missed curfew. I didn’t mean to. I was at the library studying, and then my brother cornered me. Liberty turned up and tried to get me home.” Her name cancels out the kid's story and has my head spinning around to get a better look at her.

“Liberty?” Sterling looks up at her name, and then back down at the woman he’s been giving me a hard time about, taking in a better look of her.

“Yeah, it’s her,” he confirms, brushing a stray blonde hair off her face.

“Stay there.” I point down at the kid and make my way over to her.

“Liberty?” I kneel down and place my hands on either side of her face.

Fuck me. She’s been hit pretty hard. Blood coats her face, dripping down her neck onto her shirt. Hot rage fills my veins seeing her like this while panic weighs me down next to her.

Who the f*ck would do this to her?

“Lib?” I call again, hoping to stir her.

“W-what are you doing here, Hetch?” She starts to come to and the f*cking * who’s taken up residence inside of me since meeting her, enjoys that she recognizes me first.

Fuck me. Keep your dick in your pants.

“Mitch?” She tries to sit up but, but I stop her from moving too far.

“Whoa, hold on there, sweetheart.” I force her to look at me so I can get a better look at her injuries. “You’re bleeding.” Her left cheek has a quarter-inch graze; it’s raised with the start of a bruise already appearing.

“Hetch? What?” She’s still disorientated. My anger thickens, pulsing through me at a sluggish pace from seeing her like this.

Who the f*ck did this to her?

“The kid do this to you?” It’s the first thing I ask, still uncertain how to read him.

She’s still a little out of it, still unsure as to what’s happening, or where she is, but I notice her hand is holding her side as she looks over to where he sits, detained on the side of the road.

“What? No, Mitch didn’t hurt me.” Her confusion lifts as she tries to sit up again.

“Hey, hey, calm down.” I try to soothe her but fail when she notices he’s cuffed.

“What the hell?” Her breath is choppy as she struggles to get her words out, her face contorting in pain each time she takes in air. “Get those cuffs off him. He’s only fifteen.” She tries to fight me, the firecracker in her coming out.

“He’s being detained right now until I can find out what is happening here.”

“He was helping me, you”—she takes another deep breath—“fool. He didn’t hurt me.” Jesus, I can’t tell if she’s just winded or has a cracked rib. But something isn’t right here.

“Then tell me what happened.”

“Hetch, take the damn cuffs off him.” She fights me, refusing to obey.

“Stop fighting. You’re gonna hurt yourself more than you already are.” My voice rises at her stubbornness and strong will. Remembering the kid mentioned his brother, I ask, “Did Mitch’s brother do this?”

Her gaze searching out Mitch’s tells me I’m right.

“What’s your brother's name, kid?”

“Dominic didn’t do it,” Mitch answers, and I put their last name together.

Fucking Dominic Westin, street thug, gang member, a rap sheet probably longer than my dick.

“Jesus, you’re out here on your own with the likes of Dominic Westin, Liberty?”

“What am I supposed to do? He’s been hassling Mitch, trying to get him in.” She takes another pained breath. “I showed up and tried to get him home.”

I turn and look down at the kid. “This true? You’re not part of your brother’s crew?” It’s not that I don’t believe Liberty. I have a feeling Mitch is hiding something.

“No, sir, well, I-I mean—”

“You’re either a part of his crew, or you’re not. Simple answer, boy.” Sterling cuts him off.

“No, sir. I’m not.”

“Please, Hetch, take the cuffs off. He’s only a kid,” Liberty asks again, her breathing still labored. I nod to Sterling, giving him the all clear as I continue to run my eyes over her body, wondering when the hell the paramedics will show up.

“So, if Dominic didn’t do this, who exactly did?” I ask Mitch this time, still not sure how to read him. He’s throwing me off with his manners and concern for Liberty, but at the same time, he is Dominic’s little brother. Family tends to stick together.

“One of Dominic’s boys. I don’t know his name.” I’m about to ask Liberty if she knows them, but the paramedics finally pull into the lot.

“I don’t need medical attention. I’m fine.” She tries to stand, but can barely get up on her own.

“Keep still. You need to get checked over, Liberty.” I’m not in the mood to argue with her, but I will if she fights me on this.

“I’m fine.” She labors in her breathing, and if I wasn’t worried about her, and what injuries she may have, I would laugh at her stubborn ass.

“You were passed out when we arrived. You have a nasty grazing under your eye, and you’ve been holding your side since you came to.” She takes a second to take stock of her injuries before releasing a slow and pained huff as two paramedics start making their way over to us.