Crazy about Cameron: The Winslow Brothers #3(62)

“You have a great day, Mr. Winslow!”

Cameron tucked the phone into his pocket and leaned back so he could look Margaret in the eyes. “I think we just found out who was driving that aqua Ford.”

“Diego?” she asked, her face contorting.

He nodded. “And I’m almost positive it was Geraldo who assaulted you.”

“What do we do?” she asked, looking up at him with worried eyes.

“We need to drive to the police station in Philadelphia and share our suspicions. And then,” he said, with steely determination, “we get to the bottom of it.”





Chapter 14


After Margaret and Cameron drove to Philly and shared their observations and suspicions at their neighborhood local precinct, officers Rink and Monroe asked if they’d please accompany them to Margaret’s apartment. Part of Margaret wanted to say no. She didn’t want to go. She didn’t want to see her apartment being violated by people she should have been able to trust. Moreover, she didn’t want to look into the eyes of the man who’d willfully assaulted her. But Cameron’s fingers were threaded through hers comfortingly, and though she knew he’d support her if she chose to remain at the precinct, she also knew she was capable of handling this ugliness if he was by her side.

On the drive to the Newbury Arms, Cameron glanced over at her. “You’re white as a sheet. Are you sure you’re up for this?”

Margaret gulped. “Honestly? I don’t know. Either Diego or Geraldo cracked open my head with a candlestick a few days ago. I just can’t believe that men I trusted would do such a thing.”

“Not everyone in the world is as good as you, baby,” he said gently, kissing the back of her hand before releasing it. “It’s a good thing these officers are with us, or the possibility of two dead bodies in your apartment would be pretty high.”

“Cam . . .”

“Don’t worry. I’m going to let the police take care of it. But f*ck, I’m pissed.”

They were quiet for the rest of the drive, lost in their own thoughts. Margaret quietly dreaded whatever it was they were going to find at her apartment.

When they arrived, Cameron took her hand as he helped her out of the car. “You good?”

She managed a grim smile. “Mm-hm.”

“I’m here with you.”

“I know. God, I know. I couldn’t do this without you, Cam. None of it.” Her eyes burned with tears. “I’m so grateful for you.”

He put his arms around her for a moment before they entered the building, holding her tightly and kissing her hair. “I love you. I’m not going anywhere.”

She sighed and leaned back. “Okay. I’m ready.”

Officers Rink and Monroe were waiting for them on the sidewalk. They’d asked the officers not to enter the lobby without them, fearful that Diego could be lurking around and would run upstairs to warn his cousin.

As they entered the building, Franklin looked up from his desk, clearly distressed by the presence of uniformed officers, but Cameron shook his head discreetly at the doorman, asking for his cooperation, and Franklin nodded.

When they entered the elevator, Officer Rink repeated the instruction they’d been given at the police station: “Miss Story, we need you to unlock and open the door. We will enter the premises and let you know if and when it’s safe to enter. Understood?”

Margaret nodded. Her hands were shaking and sweaty as she took her keys out of her purse.

“Whatever’s going on, ma’am,” added Officer Monroe, “it’s best for us to get involved now, before things get really out of hand.”

Margaret bristled a little, considering she’d spent a night in the hospital and would have a two-inch scar over her ear for the rest of her life, but she stopped herself from asking what “really out of hand” would look like.

“Baja is a hotbed for narcotics,” said Rink grimly. “Wouldn’t be surprised if your contractor was caught up in something bad.”

The elevator dinged. Margaret took a deep breath, her stomach in knots, but she was grateful for Cameron’s hand on her lower back. She led the way to her apartment, stopping in front of the quiet door and turning to the officers.

“I give you permission to enter my apartment.” Then she put the key in the lock and twisted.

The door opened, and the officers stepped into the apartment.

“Police! Anyone here?”

Margaret looked up at Cameron, taking a step closer to him and fighting the urge to peek into her apartment.

“Sir, put your hands up. Sir!”

“ . . . ain’t doin’ nothin’ . . .”

Margaret strained to hear what was going on, but she couldn’t hear all of Geraldo’s low-toned words.

“Sir, I won’t ask again.”

“ . . . f*ckin’ pigs come in here and—”

Suddenly the sound of gunfire blasted through the apartment, and Margaret hid her face in Cameron’s chest. He yanked her into his arms and pulled her down the hallway, a good twenty feet away from the apartment door, then turned them around so that his back faced the hallway and hers was safe against the wall.

“I think you should go down the fire escape,” he growled. “I don’t like—”