Their Perfect Melody Read online

  The Matched to Perfection Series by Priscilla Oliveras

  His Perfect Partner

  Her Perfect Affair

  “Holiday Home Run” in A Season to Celebrate

  Their Perfect Melody

  Published by Kensington Publishing Corporation

  THEIR PERFECT MELODY

  Priscilla Oliveras

  ZEBRA BOOKS

  KENSINGTON PUBLISHING CORP.

  http://www.kensingtonbooks.com

  All copyrighted material within is Attributor Protected.

  Table of Contents

  Also by

  Title Page

  Copyright Page

  Acknowledgements

  Chapter One

  Chapter Two

  Chapter Three

  Chapter Four

  Chapter Five

  Chapter Six

  Chapter Seven

  Chapter Eight

  Chapter Nine

  Chapter Ten

  Chapter Eleven

  Chapter Twelve

  Chapter Thirteen

  Chapter Fourteen

  Chapter Fifteen

  Chapter Sixteen

  Chapter Seventeen

  Teaser chapter

  ZEBRA BOOKS are published by

  Kensington Publishing Corp.

  119 West 40th Street

  New York, NY 10018

  Copyright © 2018 by Priscilla Oliveras

  All rights reserved. No part of this book may be reproduced in any form or by any means without the prior written consent of the Publisher, excepting brief quotes used in reviews.

  To the extent that the image or images on the cover of this book depict a person or persons, such person or persons are merely models, and are not intended to portray any character or characters featured in the book.

  If you purchased this book without a cover you should be aware that this book is stolen property. It was reported as “unsold and destroyed” to the Publisher and neither the Author nor the Publisher has received any payment for this “stripped book.”

  Zebra and the Z logo Reg. U.S. Pat. & TM Off.

  ISBN: 978-1-4201-4430-7

  eISBN-13: 978-1-4201-4433-8

  eISBN-10: 1-4201-4433-2

  It takes a village (at least for me) to inspire, brainstorm,

  write, revise, proofread, and send a book out into the world.

  This one came to fruition in large part

  thanks to the influence of . . .

  Ines—a dear friend, dedicated victim’s advocate, true rock

  star, and one of the strongest women I know . . . any errors

  are all mine, but Lilí’s heart was created in your image;

  gracias mi amiga!

  My #4ChicasChat hermanas (sisters)—Mia Sosa,

  Sabrina Sol, and Alexis Daria—You’ve made this scary,

  thrilling, frustrating, uplifting wild ride of

  published author life so much better;

  gracias por ser parte de lo que es bueno en mi vida!

  The small, but growing Latinx romance author

  community—Here’s to more of our voices being heard

  and our stories being shared with the world!

  Check us out via #LatinxRom!

  My zumba familia—¡Mi gente! Our classes and Latin

  Nights kept me sane and helped work off my writing snacks

  during the looming deadlines! #GoGators #Wepa

  ¿Qué, qué? ¡Muchísimas gracias por su amistad,

  apoyo y amor!

  Groups such as I Always Get Consent, It’s On Us, and

  others striving to raise awareness and stop sexual assault,

  on campuses and beyond—your hard work and efforts are

  vitally important! Thank you! www.itsonus.org

  www.ialwaysgetconsent.tumblr.com

  Mi familia . . . my Mami, Papi, sister, brother, and three

  amazing daughters—all good in my life starts with you;

  los quiero un montón!

  Chapter One

  “Look, lady, you need to calm down and step back. I really don’t want to have to arrest you.”

  “Arrest? Are you freaking kidding me?” Lilí Fernandez slapped her envelope purse against her thigh and gaped at the muscular cop blocking her way up the ratty apartment building’s cracked front stoop.

  Dios mío, what the hell was this guy’s problem?

  It had taken her a good thirty prayer-filled and frantic minutes to cab it from the art museum downtown over to the Humboldt Park area on Chicago’s West Side. No way was one beefcake-looking cop going to stop her from getting inside. Not when Melba needed her.

  Feet spread in a wide stance, the cop cradled his gun holster with his right hand. He held his left arm out in front of his muscular chest, fingers splayed in a no-nonsense stop sign. The way he’d planted himself like a towering oak at the top of the third step, it was obvious this guy wasn’t kidding.

  “Look, Officer . . .” Lilí squinted in the waning sunlight glinting off the cop’s name tag. “. . . Reyes, Melba González called me. Freaked out. Afraid for her life and begging me to come help her. I’m going in there whether you like it or not.”

  The officer gave another firm shake of his head. “Don’t push your luck, okay? No one goes inside without clearance first.”

  Annoyed, Lilí rolled her eyes at his hard-line stance. “The victim cleared me when she called, asking me to come. Look, there she is!”

  Lilí jabbed her hand toward the first-floor window on the right, pointing at a shadowy figure behind the filmy cream curtain. It could be Melba, though Lilí wasn’t really sure.

  Melba could also be lying on the floor in pain. Or worse.

  The terrible thought had Lilí’s heart thundering in her chest. Her skin prickled with unease at the idea of what might have happened since their call had been disconnected. Dios mío, she prayed it hadn’t taken Chicago’s finest as long as her to get here and that Melba was safe. Unhurt.

  When Melba had first called earlier, Lilí hadn’t answered. Normally when she didn’t recognize a number she let it click over to voice mail. Besides, she’d been waiting in line at the fundraising event’s open bar, her gaze perusing the mix of beautiful artwork and the elegance of some of Chicago’s wealthiest society members. Marveling that she, one of the “little people” from the nearby suburb of Oakton, was rubbing elbows with them all.

  That was her brother-in-law Jeremy Taylor’s influence. Since his marriage to her middle sister, Rosa, four years ago, Jeremy’s parents had welcomed all three Fernandez sisters into their home and social circle. Last Christmas, when the girls’ cousin Julia had visited from Puerto Rico, Mrs. Taylor had hired Julia as an event planner. A move that ultimately led Julia to stay in Chicago, thanks to a job offer and a new relationship.

  But, when the second call in as many minutes from the same Chicago area code had set Lilí’s phone vibrating, something inside her pushed her to answer. Warily, she’d slid her thumb across the phone screen.

  Her stomach dropped to her feet when she recognized Melba González’s frantic voice. Between Melba’s sobs and the thunderous pounding on the bathroom door behind which the woman hid, Lilí could hear Melba’s husband’s threatening voice. Tito was drunk. On an angry rampage. Again.

  Sure, Lilí didn’t typically share her private number with someone who came into the assault victims’ clinic. Not that there was an actual policy against it, but Lilí figured the director might frown upon it if she knew. Forget how pissed Lilí’s two older sisters would be.

  Rosa and Yazmine were already worried about her living alone in the city, constantly harping on her to be safe and aware of her surroundings. As if she didn’t teach commu
nity education classes on that very subject.

  The thing was, Melba’s dire situation had been rapidly declining over the past few months. Tito had been laid off and was drinking more, relying on buddies for odd jobs. Legal or illegal, it didn’t seem to matter to him.

  Lilí had tried everything she could think of to convince the thirty-year-old woman that she could truly count on her and the staff at the shelter to be by her side, guiding her through the ropes that would get Melba out of her toxic situation. Melba was thiiiiis close to having the confidence to pack up and leave her degenerate husband. Fear, borne from years of mental and physical abuse, kept the poor woman from gathering enough courage.

  Two days ago, as a last-ditch effort, Lilí had scrawled her cell number on the back of her official business card when Melba had stopped by for what had become a fairly regular Wednesday midmorning visit on her way to work at a nearby laundromat. Lilí had pressed the card into Melba’s hand, counseling her to keep it in a safe place, hidden from Tito, for emergencies.

  When your drunk, and probably high, brute of a husband descended on you with a knife, it definitely counted as an emergency.

  Lilí had promised to help. That meant, no cop, no matter how adamant, would stop her.

  “Come on!” she pressed, her exasperation rising. “You have to let me in there.”

  “Sorry. No dice.” The cop’s exasperated frown belied his apology. “Until I can verify who you are, I can’t let you go into the crime scene.”

  “Crime scene?” The words scraped her throat as she said them. Her thoughts instantly jumped to worst-case scenarios.

  Tito breaking down the door, stabbing Melba as she cowered in the bathroom corner.

  Melba lying on the floor in pain, wondering why Lilí hadn’t come to her rescue.

  Fear arced through her and Lilí squeezed her black evening clutch purse to her chest with both hands.

  Even if the police had arrived in time to scare off Tito, Melba needed someone she trusted to better deal with the aftermath. Not a bunch of cops more than likely ill-equipped to console a battered woman, especially if they were as hard-assed as this guy. Melba needed her.

  Screw this.

  Anger galvanized Lilí’s efforts and she lunged to the right onto the first step.

  “Hey, what do you think you’re doing?” Officer Reyes sputtered.

  She quickly veered left and up another step in an evasive move, more determined than ever to get by.

  Unfortunately, her stilettos slowed her down and he moved faster, deftly sliding to his right. She slammed into his broad chest, her breath coming out in a whoosh.

  Lilí teetered on her heels, her arms flailing as she fought for balance.

  He grabbed on to her waist to keep her from stumbling down the two steps. Instinctively she grasped his firm biceps. Her arm muscles clenched, jerking her toward him, and her chest wound up pressed against his. She gaped up at him in surprise.

  This close she caught a faint whiff of his earthy aftershave. The angular features of his tan face filled her vision before she shook off his hands and scurried back to the sidewalk, annoyed at her inability to get around him.

  Arms crossed, Officer Reyes frowned down at her, the firm set of his jaw a sign of his irritation.

  She itched to move up to the first step, take away some of his height advantage. Unfortunately, she’d gotten up close and personal enough to him already. Better she stay down here.

  “Listen to me,” she huffed. “My client is inside there and you can’t stop me from seeing her.”

  “Client? Are you a lawyer or something?”

  “If being her lawyer gets you outta my way, then yes, I’m her lawyer,” she threw back at him.

  The cretin narrowed his eyes. His lips pursed in obvious annoyance. Pues, that made two of them.

  Lilí swallowed her scoff. If he expected his stern expression to intimidate her into acquiescing, Officer Reyes had another think coming.

  When it came to her clients—bueno, pretty much anyone in need of assistance—she didn’t back down easily. Even wearing a short cocktail dress and heels, she’d readily go toe to toe with anyone who got in her way.

  Hands on her hips, Lilí returned Officer Reyes’s glare with one of her own as she gave him the once-over. Too bad he’d resumed his hand-over-holster, shoulder-wide stance. The man looked about as unyielding as she felt. Damn, she’d bet her life savings, meager amount though it might be, that she hadn’t swayed him in the least.

  Maybe in-your-face wasn’t the way to go with this guy.

  Straightening her shoulders, Lilí smoothed her hands down the front of her favorite little black dress. She channeled the polite manners Mami and Papi had drilled into her. The same ones she’d had on display at the benefit tonight, especially as she thanked Jeremy’s parents for the invitation to their swanky fundraiser and apologized for her abrupt departure.

  “Okay, I get it, Reyes. I know you’re simply trying to do your job. And it’s not always an easy one.” Lilí deliberately pitched her voice to calm and soothing. Agreeable even. “So am I. I’m Melba González’s counselor, and, given what I heard in the background when she called me, I really believe she needs me right now. Don’t you?”

  Officer Reyes’s brutish expression softened the tiniest bit.

  Bingo!

  Lilí offered up a silent prayer that he’d see reason.

  After releasing a heavy sigh, Reyes opened his mouth to respond. At the same time the apartment’s main door swung open behind him. A lumberjack-sized cop with reddish-blond hair leaned out to say, “Hey, Reyes, we’re supposed to be on the lookout for a Lilí Fernandez. The victim is asking for her.”

  “That’s me!” Lilí scampered up the three stairs, sidestepping Reyes, who had turned his back to her when the second cop had called his name.

  “Wait!” he yelled.

  But she didn’t stop, especially since the big guy in the doorway stepped aside for her to enter.

  “Check her identification, Stevens,” she heard Reyes say.

  Without missing a beat, Lilí snapped open her clutch and rifled through it for her driver’s license.

  Inside, the gloomy hallway smelled musty, the air dank. The linoleum floor was aged and discolored in places, the wallpaper peeling. She hurried past the row of metal mailboxes and stopped in front of apartment B.

  “Miss, I need to see—”

  “Here you go, Officer Stevens.” On her best behavior, Lilí handed the cop her driver’s license. “I’m a victim’s advocate over at the Humboldt Park area clinic. I hate to say it, but Melba is one of my regulars.”

  Stevens studied her ID, his head slowly nodding. “I’m sorry to hear that.”

  “Yeah, well, there are far too many women—and kids—in her same position. My job is to do my best to get them out of it. So . . .”

  Lilí’s voice trailed off in a huff of adrenaline-reducing breath. After the hectic rush of racing through city traffic to get here, only to be blocked and bulldozed by the hunky yet intractable Officer Reyes, she needed to regroup before facing Melba. She’d be no good to the scared woman if she herself was rattled.

  Eyes closed, she sucked in the dank air until her lungs were completely filled, then she slowly released it, counting backwards from twenty, focusing her attention on her job and regaining her professionalism.

  “Okay, can you give me a rundown on what I’m walking into here?” she asked, her voice calm, her pulse no longer racing. “Officer Reyes called it a crime scene. What happened? Is Melba injured?”

  Officer Stevens handed her back her ID. “We got a call reporting a domestic disturbance. My partner Reyes and I were a few blocks away, so we responded. When we arrived we found the front door open. The living room and kitchen were vacant, but left in shambles. The bathroom door looks like it took a real beating. Allegedly by Mr. González. But the door kept Mrs. González safe.”

  Sweet relief at hearing that Melba was okay pooled through Lilí
, calming her rattled nerves. “Melba called me from inside the bathroom and I told her to stay put and not let Tito in for any reason. Where is he, by the way? Did another car already take him to the station?”

  Dios mío, she sincerely hoped Melba would press charges this time.

  Officer Stevens shook his head, his face scrunched as if in pain. “I’m not sure if the sirens spooked him, but he was gone when we arrived.”

  ¡Ay carajo! Lilí swallowed the oath, but hell was exactly where Tito needed to be, if not behind bars. He was a menace to his wife, and anyone else who happened to cross his path.

  “And Melba?” she asked.

  “Inside. She’s pretty shaken up. The EMTs are bandaging her arm now. Apparently her husband slashed at her with a knife before she could get herself into the bathroom.”

  Anger vibrated in Lilí’s chest, radiating out, fueling her determination to make Tito pay. “Have they put out an APB for his sorry ass?”

  Officer Stevens nodded. “If he’s out on the streets, we’ll find him.”

  “I hope so.” Lilí punctuated the words with a brisk nod. “Let’s go in then. If all goes well, Melba will finally press charges and agree to move into the women’s shelter.”

  Without waiting for Officer Stevens to answer, Lilí turned the knob and stepped into the mess of overturned chairs and broken glass that decorated Melba’s run-down apartment like a home invasion.

  * * *

  Diego leaned a hip against the faded Formica countertop separating the kitchen from the living room in Melba González’s shabby first-floor apartment just off Division Street. Broken dishes, picture frames with shattered glass, and upended metal chairs from the dinette set littered the area. All evidence of the struggle and rage that had led to the 911 call that brought him and Stevens to the González residence.