FanStory.com - Spirited Justice Chap 9by Begin Again

After leaving the museum, Johan focused on getting Hilda as far away from the crime scene as possible and his troubling thoughts. He hadn't known about Jose's diversion plan and was shocked when the man fell from the scaffolding. Even now, his pulse quickened when he recalled seeing him fall and how things had unraveled so quickly.

How did that woman find us? Did she see Jose leaving?

Jose had told him not to worry but to be ready when he gave him the word. He froze when the man slammed into the stage floor, but Jose's snarl, "Get the girl," snapped him back into the present. They'd pulled the stocking caps down over their heads, grabbed the two girls, and moved quickly out of sight. Jose had been right. They went unnoticed as everyone focused on the accident.

But then he saw her approaching and improvised, tossing the stocking cap behind some crates. He punched Jose, kicked some boxes, and Jose ran out of the building.

Had it been enough to fool the woman?

Hilda's sobs brought him about-face back to the present.

"You're crying again. I thought you were feeling better. Forgive my manners. I got lost in my thoughts and failed at protecting you."

Hilda sniffled and looked up at Johan. "You didn't! You saved me, and I will be forever grateful. I'm sure it was a tough moment for you as well."

Johan gave a reassuring smile. "Don't worry about me. My only focus is making sure you're safe. I promised your parents I'd protect you, and that's what matters."

Hilda nodded, still trembling slightly. "And you've kept that promise. I know they'll be so relieved when they hear what happened. But — what do you think those men wanted from us?"

Johan hesitated before answering, "I've read about — how should I say this — kidnapping beautiful women and selling them to other countries. It is a possibility, though I hope it wasn't the case here."

Hilda gasped, her eyes widening with fear. "You don't think —" She shuddered, her hands trembling.

Instinctively, he gently pulled her into his arms, softly patting her back and releasing her before she became uncomfortable.

"There's a park over there. Let's walk a little and maybe find a bench till you have time to gain your composure. Would you like that?"

Hilda nodded. "That would be nice. Thank you, Johan."

As they strolled, her hand fussed with her hair still frazzled from the struggle. "I must look a mess," Hilda fretted. Her fingers tugged at the loose ends. "My hair got all tangled during the scuffle."

Seizing the opportunity to get closer, Johan offered his help. "Here, let me fix it." His voice was soft and reassuring.

Hilda hesitated, then nodded, allowing him to help. He gently removed the elastic band from her ponytail, letting her hair fall loose around her shoulders. His fingers lingered slightly as he arranged the strands.

"There," he said, stepping back to admire his work. "You look perfect. The sunlight brings out the golden glints in your red hair."

Hilda blushed. A shy smile played on her lips. "You're so kind." She felt a flutter of butterflies inside her chest.

Johan returned her smile, his gaze warm and inviting. "It's not kindness, Hilda. You truly are beautiful."

They found a secluded bench near a fountain as they continued their walk. Johan gestured for them to sit. The soothing sound of the water helped calm Hilda's nerves. Johan kept his arm draped along the backrest of the bench.

"It's lovely here, but shouldn't we go to the police department? Klaus will be waiting." Hilda stood and inhaled deeply. "I wish we could walk, but it's too far. We'll have to take a cab, I suppose."

"It might be too soon, Hilda. I know you want to see Klaus, but Detective Donatelli is probably tied up at the crime scene. Why don't we walk for a little while? We can enjoy the day, and then, in a little while, we can go to the police station. You don't want to go too early and sit inside all morning, do you?"

"I suppose you're right. It would be good to clear my head before telling Klaus. He's going to be so upset."

"Sounds like we've got a plan. Shall we go?" A look of surprise covered Hilda's face when Johan took her hand in his. He laughed and looked at their hands. "I don't want you to get lost."

Hilda laughed, too; after all, he was just holding her hand.

As they strolled through the quiet streets, Johan continued to engage her in easy conversation about the city, the pageant, and her family. They passed a jewelry store, and Hilda paused, admiring the lovely pieces.

A diamond necklace with a brilliant emerald stone in the center of a heart caught her eye. "Oh, that one is so beautiful."

Johan glanced at the necklace, then at her. "It's lovely, but I think it dulls compared to your green eyes."

Hilda looked away, embarrassed but pleased by his comment. His warmth and kindness made her feel safe, almost as if the earlier terror was only a bad dream. No one had ever spoken to her like that before. It gave her a heady feeling. She felt special — even if just for a moment.

As they continued their walk, Johan let his hand slip to her waist, a comforting touch on her back. Hilda found herself leaning into him, feeling a sense of security.

After an hour of wandering through the town, window shopping, and enjoying the day, Johan sensed Hilda would want to go to the police department soon. That wasn't in his plans.

"How about we get some breakfast? I'm starving."

Hilda's heart sank at the thought of another delay, but she could hardly refuse after all the time Johan had spent with her. Before she could answer, he patted his pockets and scowled. "I think I lost my wallet. I must have dropped it during the struggle earlier." He sighed, shaking his head.

"It's okay. We can eat later."

"Tell that to my stomach. If it growls any louder, people will report hearing a vicious dog." He laughed, and so did Hilda.

"My apartment is only a few blocks from here. There's enough stuff there to make us a decent breakfast."

"But — I don't want to impose." For the sake of dramatics, Johan let his shoulders droop, and he looked so sad.

Hilda's defenses crumbled. "Nonsense. After my rescue and spending so much of your morning with me, it's the least I can do." The logical part of her mind told her to be cautious, but the vulnerable part — the part craving comfort and connection — won out.

As they continued toward her apartment, Johan's subtle smirk went unnoticed by Hilda, who was too caught up in the feeling of being cared for — however misguided that feeling might be.

*****

The apartment building stood like a sturdy sentinel among the surrounding structures, its brick facade bearing the marks of time with a dignified charm. The building's exterior was a patchwork of weathered reds and muted browns, punctuated by tall, narrow windows framed in black iron. The second-floor apartment where Hilda and Klaus lived had its own distinct character, with a modest balcony overlooking a quiet street.

As Johan and Hilda approached the entrance, they found the doorman's station conspicuously empty. A small wooden desk stood at the front, equipped with a rickety bell and a neat stack of forms that looked rarely touched. The desk had a few personal items — a faded calendar, a half-read newspaper, and an empty coffee cup.

Hilda laughed softly as she noticed Johan's puzzled expression. "Henri, our doorman, is a dear, but he is a fanatic when it comes to coffee. He probably went on one of his endless coffee breaks. He drinks so many cups a day that he's practically a fixture at the local cafe at the back of the building."

Her eyes twinkled with amusement as she continued. "He complains about having to walk so far to get a cup. Apparently, it's too much of a hassle for him to brew one here." She pointed at the coffee machine and the rack of pods on the nearby table. "He's an eccentric old man, set in his ways, but he reminds me of Santa Claus."

Johan raised an eyebrow in confusion.

Hilda smiled. "He sports a pearly white beard. Nicely trimmed, but long like Santa."

Johan's gaze wandered around the entryway, taking in the small lobby with its polished marble floor and antique furnishings. He noticed a side door leading to the fire escape, a narrow metal staircase wound its way down the side of the building. The fire escape was partially visible through a window, its metallic structure contrasting sharply with the brickwork.

He focused on following Hilda up the stairs, her lighthearted chatter easing their tension. The quiet, familiar surroundings of the apartment building were a stark contrast to the earlier chaos, providing a temporary refuge for Hilda and a momentary lapse in Johan's calculated plans.

*****

"This is it." Hilda smiled. Her fingers brushed across the top of the doorframe until she found the key. "Klaus lost his key, so I left mine here so he could get in if I was gone."

"Is that safe?" Johan pretended to show his concern.

"I never thought about it since Henri's by the door, and I've never brought anyone here before except Klaus, of course."

Her hands trembled slightly as she unlocked the door and pushed it open. The familiar scent of her home was comforting, but the presence of Johan so close behind her added an unfamiliar excitement to the air.

******

Meanwhile, Angelo had enjoyed Eleanor's wonderful breakfast, taken a refreshing shower, and now resembled a decent human being. As he savored another cup of coffee on the balcony, his thoughts returned to Naomi.

Per Carlos's request, Angelo had flown to Mexico, unbeknownst to Jose and his friends. He'd rented a small room from a quaint beach motel, dull compared to Jose's accommodations at the nearby resort nestled into the cliffs. The private investigator wasn't on vacation. He was there to keep a close eye on the Playboy. Until the last night, everything seemed normal as he watched their partying unfold from a distance. He'd heard loud arguing and then silence. The party had ended abruptly. He kept a close eye on the Playboy, but soon, all the lights went out, and he breathed a sigh of relief.

He'd decided to take a walk to relieve his built-up tension. The soft sand and the rhythmic sound of the waves muffled his footsteps crashing against the shore. As he rounded the bend, he saw her.

Naomi huddled on the beach against some enormous boulders, wearing a bikini and silk coverup. A hiccup occasionally interrupted her sobs. Her disheveled hair clung to her face in wet strands.

He approached cautiously, his heart aching at the sight of her. Naomi, usually so composed, now looked utterly broken. The bottle clutched in her hand had long since emptied, and the remnants of her mascara painted dark streaks down her face.

"Naomi?" His voice was soft as he knelt beside her. "What happened?"

She looked up, eyes red and glassy. "Jose —he — he killed someone. A local. Made Bennett and me help him get rid of the body." Her words tumbled out in a rush, punctuated by her ragged breaths. She pointed toward the top of the diving cliffs. "From up there."

He'd reached out, taking the bottle gently from her trembling fingers. "Shh, it's alright. You're safe now."

Naomi's shoulders shook with silent sobs, and she leaned into him. He'd wrapped an arm around her, pulling her close. Her anguish seemed to seep into him, making his own heart heavy. He whispered soothing words, rubbing her back gently to offer comfort.

Exhaustion soon overtook her, and her head fell against his shoulder. Her breathing became steady, and her sobs subsided into soft, rhythmic breaths. He'd held her, feeling the warmth of her body against his. In that quiet moment, he could hear the gentle lull of the sea, like a distant lullaby.

He knew he couldn't stay forever, though every part of him wished to. With great care, he lifted her into his arms, feeling her soft body as he carried her back to her bungalow. The night air was cool against his skin, but the heat from his unspoken emotions kept him warm.

When he reached her door, he gently eased it open and carried her inside. He laid her down on the bed, his movements tender and deliberate. The vulnerability of her sleeping form struck him deeply; she looked so peaceful now, so innocent despite the chaos she'd endured.

He'd stood by her bed momentarily, his heart caught between the overwhelming urge to stay and the painful reality that he couldn't. He touched her cheek lightly, his fingers brushing away a stray lock of hair. A sigh of resignation escaped his lips.

As he turned to leave, he took one last glance back. He knew that, despite everything, his feelings for her had solidified in that quiet, fragile moment on the beach. Naomi might never know, but he would carry this night with him forever, a bittersweet memory of love found in the darkness.

The jarring ring of his phone chased his thoughts away. He looked to see who was calling. Carlos's face and name stared back at him. He took a deep breath and answered, "Good morning, Carlos."