When she didn’t answer, he kept going. “I didn’t admit it. Hell, I don’t know if Tristan would want me to. I know it’s kind of a fucked up situation. You said he loved me as well, though.” Mateo shrugged. “I don’t know if that’s true. Don’t really see how it can be. He loves Jay. Still hasn’t told him, but he does. Anyway, I wanted you to know you’re right. That I do. I should have just told you that night.”
Because as fucked up as the whole thing really was, he felt whole when he was with Josiah and Tristan, in a way he never had. He’d never known what it felt like to truly feel whole until them.
It was then that Mateo realized she’d stopped crying. Mateo glanced over at her, and for the first time since he’d found her, she looked up at him. She was dirty, her hair a mess, as though she’d been on the streets forever.
“Tristan. Tristan, Tristan, Tristan, Tristan,” she whispered his name over and over again.
Slowly, Mateo pushed up to his feet, but still kneeling. “That’s right. I can get you to Tristan. Come with me, Rhonda.” He said her name, hoping that would help. That if she was confused, she would at least recognize she should know him since he said her name.
“Tristan, Tristan, Tristan, Tristan,” she continued quietly, mumbling Tristan’s name. But she moved forward a little, too. Then a little more. He felt like putting his finger to his wrist like Tristan did, like that would somehow help or something.
“Let’s go. Let’s go find Tristan.” His hands shook a little, scared he wasn’t doing the right thing. Nervous of how she might react on the busier street.
She kept crawling forward, until she kneeled at the corner where it opened up to the space Mateo was. Slowly, he stood up. “Let’s go see Tristan, Rhonda.”
She looked up at him again, her eyes so damn lost. But still she pushed to her feet, took a step forward. But when she did, her foot caught on something and she stumbled. Mateo jerked his hands out to catch her, and the second he did, she screamed and jerked away. “No! No! Don’t touch me!”
Rhonda ran between the buildings, Mateo right behind her. What the fuck should he do? If he caught her again, she would freak out, but he couldn’t let her take off, either.
When she hit the sidewalk, she turned and kept running, still yelling, “No! No! No!” as she went. Mateo kept after her, people looking at them as they ran, probably wondering how he’d hurt her.
“What the fuck are you doing to her, man?” A guy grabbed his arm. On reflex, Mateo punched him in the face so he could get free and took off after her again.
She took another corner, screaming and stumbling as she went. Mateo turned it, too, noticing a cop who stood on the sidewalk.
“Hey. What are you doing?” The cop grabbed ahold of him just as the man he’d hit came up behind them.
“He’s after that woman. He fucking hit me.” Blood ran down the guy’s face.
“She needs your help, man. Forget about me. We need to get her.” He fought to pull away. “She’s missing. She’s my...” What was he supposed to say? She’s my boyfriend’s mom? Yeah, he’s one of the state prosecutors and I’m an ex-gangbanger.
Mateo tried to jerk out of his grip again, his heart slamming. “That’s Tristan fucking Croft’s mom. She’s been missing and she needs our help.”
As soon as those words left his mouth, he heard the tires screech, heard the horn blare, before Rhonda screamed.
Chapter Twenty-Three
Tristan
One, two, three, four, five, one, two, three, four, five.
ONE, TWO, THREE, FOUR, FIVE.
Tristan stood outside the Emergency Department, counting. His pulse echoed loudly in his ears.
Open the door. Open the door, walk in, and look at the dead woman they think is my mom.
He owed her that, at least. He couldn’t save her, but he damn sure needed to be strong enough to look at her, look at her and know he couldn’t save her.
He stopped for a minute, leaned against the wall, and fingered his cell phone. Call them. They should be here with him. He needed Josiah and Mateo here with him, and that made his heart rate go even faster. Needing left people vulnerable, and he’d sworn never to need anyone.
They hadn’t even moved her yet. She wasn’t supposed to still be in the ER, but since the hospitals knew his mother was missing, they kept her here. In the loud, busy ER, which she would hate.
Tristan palmed his cell, pushed away from the wall and opened the door to the small room in the back of the department.