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I wrapped my arms around him and squeezed tight. “No, we need to call McMahon, have his guys clear the apartment, and then maybe they’ll let you look around.” I used my body to push him back out into the hall. Once we were out of the apartment, I released Felix, who slumped against the wall and slid down so he was sitting with his head buried against his knees. My poor lucky otter was absolutely wrecked, and it was almost like I could feel his pain, like it was my space that had been ransacked.
But suddenly, every tiny towel, every too-small pair of sweats didn’t matter because McMahon had gotten Felix out, and he’d kept him safe for me. What if Felix had been there when the lowlifes who’d tossed his place had come by? He could have been hurt or worse. And then I never would have known him.
Sliding my phone out of my pocket, I kept my eyes on Felix, who had his hands balled into fists as his shoulders shook, and dialed McMahon.
The detective answered on the third ring. “I just got home. This had better be good.”
“You need to get to Felix’s apartment. Send a team. The place is trashed.”
McMahon let loose another shocking string of expletives, and then a sigh came over the line. “Is the kid okay?”
“Eh.”
“He’s not hurt?”
“Not a scratch. He’s upset, though.”
“Yeah. I bet.” I heard rustling. “I’m putting my shoes back on, and I’ll be there in twenty. Ortega is closer, so I’m gonna send him. He can assess and see if we need CSI. Get that ball rolling.”
“Okay. What do you want me to do?”
“Stay there. I’m guessing Felix is with you, so keep him calm. We’ll probably need him to look around to see if anything was stolen. Did you touch anything?”
“Only the doorknob.”
“Good. Stay out of the apartment until we get there. What a fucking mess.” The line went dead, and I put my phone away and sat next to Felix on the worn industrial carpet. He leaned into me, his head hitting my shoulder.
“You think anything survived?” he asked. He sounded hopeless, and the fuckers that did this to him had better pray the law found them before I did. I wanted to give Felix hope, but I also didn’t want to start our relationship by lying to him.
From what I’d seen of the apartment, I could guess the rest of his stuff was trashed too. “Probably not.”
He swallowed hard and nodded against my arm.
I was kind of shitty at comforting people—as the oldest of four boys, I was better at tough love and telling people to shake it off—so I just let Felix lean against me and turned a little so I could put my arm around him. “McMahon’s on his way. He’s gonna need you to see if anything was taken.” Another nod. “It’s gonna be okay. They’ll find whoever did this.” Or I would. My brothers would help.
“Maybe.” Felix’s defeated tone told me he wasn’t convinced.
There was no maybe in it for me. I’d have to talk to my brother Cal when he got home from whatever job he was currently working. I had a feeling his skills were going to come in handy.
A few minutes later, an attractive Latino guy in a tweed blazer hit the second-floor landing and hurried toward us when he saw us from down the hall.
“Nero? Ortega. McMahon sent me. What’ve we got?” He flashed his badge, and Felix sat up so I could stand. I offered him a hand, and he took it and got to his feet.
“We came to get some of Felix’s stuff. The apartment’s been ransacked.”
Ortega nodded and pointed to Felix’s door. “This apartment?”
“Yes.” Felix barely made eye contact with the detective, the hunch in his shoulders sending his words to his feet. “We only saw the living room. I don’t know what the rest looks like.”
“Okay.” Two uniformed officers joined our little group, and Ortega told them what we’d just told him. “We’re gonna clear the property and see where we need to go from there. You stay here for now.” He unholstered his gun, which I thought was overkill. They wouldn’t find anyone inside. If whoever had trashed the apartment was still there, they knew we’d been inside, and they’d probably cut and run the second they heard the sirens… if they even waited around that long. If they were still on the premises, my gut told me they would have made a grab for Felix.
Ortega shouldered open the door and entered, gun first, the officers, guns similarly drawn, following. They moved through Felix’s place, and from where we stood, we heard them calling to each other.
The detective’s face appeared around the doorframe as he tried to sidestep a broken lamp. “All clear. I’m gonna have one of the officers walk around with you. Tell her if you notice anything missing.” Ortega called over his shoulder to a tall Black woman with short hair who was standing near the kitchen. “Johnson, walk Felix here through the unit and note anything that’s gone.”
She nodded and hustled over as best she could, picking through the debris and trying not to disturb anything. Officer Johnson held her hand out to Felix. “Officer Maxine Johnson. Sorry to be meeting like this.” I liked her. She was nice. And Felix gave her a flicker of a smile as he followed her into the living room.
“Nero?” Ortega called. “You stay with me.”
