Without another word, she went to Welita, kissed her cheek, and wrapped an arm around her thin shoulder as she led her to the car.
“Mrs. Duran. If there is anything I can do ….”
That woman won’t give up. Naomi gripped the door handle in response to Jane’s words, but she didn’t turn. She took a deep breath and vowed that she would find a way to make sure that the senator would pay for what she did. One way or another, she’d find justice for her father.
Chapter 6
Hidden in the shadows behind Welita’s house, Lash peeked through the open window, hoping he’d find Naomi. He had gone to the address that was given to him, but when he found she wasn’t there, he’d searched the apartment for clues as to where she might be. Given the vision Raphael had shown him, he obviously needed to keep careful watch and couldn’t wait until she returned.
He found nothing unusual: a small and sparse bedroom, a living room with textbooks lining bookshelves, a kitchen that was spotless except for the stack of papers on the table. He glanced at the newspaper placed on top of the pile. It was opened to the obituary pages, and a photo of a middle-aged man smiled out at him. Underneath the photo was a name: Javier Duran.
Lash snatched the paper and read it closely. There were a few sentences stating that Javier was a graduate of the University of Texas and that his wife was deceased. What caught his attention were two of the names listed as surviving family members: Naomi and Anita Duran.
He recalled the young woman with jet-black hair and pink tinted glasses talking on the phone. Anita was Javier’s mother. The same little boy he’d been assigned to years ago, and now, he was dead. Lash threw the paper back on the table and ran his hand though his hair, frustrated. What was going on? The kid he’d saved didn’t even get to live out his life.
He paced the floor, thinking. There had to be a reason why Michael specifically had him assigned to Naomi, and it would be more than just proving his faith and loyalty—but what?
Lash eyed a laptop on the coffee table in the living room and picked it up. Whatever the connection was, he’d find out soon enough, but first he needed to find Naomi. He did a quick Google search and found Anita’s home address. He thought that Naomi might be there, given that today was the funeral, and headed straight to Anita’s house.
When Lash approached the small white house, he heard muffled voices arguing. He snuck into the backyard and saw movement behind an open window.
“Don’t deny it, Naomi. It did cross your mind that your father was probably drunk,” said a deep voice.
“He promised me, Chuy. He said he hadn’t touched the stuff in over a month,” Naomi said heatedly.
“The newspapers said—”
“Screw the papers. I know my father.”
Lash was taken aback with the strength of Naomi’s voice, so different from the sweet smile in the photo he was given. He moved into a better position to try to get a look at her. He was curious to see how someone who looked so delicate could sound like that. Once he leaned in, however, all he got was an eyeful of Chuy’s broad shoulders covered in a white tank top.
“Come on, Naomi,” he said. “You had doubts.”
Naomi held her breath and then exhaled slowly. “Yes, I did. When I saw him near the beer, I admit I was a bit nervous. Before he left for work, we talked. He was sober. I know it. There was no way he would’ve had time to stop somewhere and—”
“Shh, Welita’s coming.”
Welita shuffled into the kitchen. “Why do you act like I can’t hear? I can hear you all the way down the hall.”
“You should be resting. Why are you up?” Chuy moved away from the window.
Lash’s breath caught as he finally saw Naomi, leaning against the refrigerator with one foot pressed against the door. His eyes traveled up her long legs. The sleeves and neckband of the black concert t-shirt she wore were cut off, leaving her pale shoulders bare. Dark lashes framed the intense, pale blue eyes that danced between Welita and Chuy. A strange sensation swept over him, and his heart pounded. There was something about her eyes. He’d seen them somewhere before, but he couldn’t put his finger on it.
Welita walked toward the pantry. “I came to get some food for … what’s that?”
What the hell? Lash ducked as Welita turned to the window. How could she see me? It was dark outside, and there was no light to give his presence away.
“What’s wrong?” Naomi asked.
“I thought I saw something by the window,” Welita said.
Bare feet padded across the floor, and Lash heard the window pane being shoved higher. He held his breath as Naomi peered out. The wind blew, and the scent of jasmine and vanilla intertwined with musk wafted through the air. She smelled as sensual as she looked.
“I don’t see anything.” Naomi drew back into the kitchen.
“I wonder if it’s her again.” Welita opened the pantry door and took out a can of dog food.
“‘Her’ who?” Chuy took out a can opener from the drawer and handed it to Welita.