Their Perfect Melody

Book 3: Matched to Perfection

by Priscilla Oliveras

Genres: Romance; Contemporary Romance

Synopsis

With talent, heart, and ambition to spare, the Fernandez sisters have each followed their own unique path, even when it leads to surprising destinations — in life and love....

Growing up, Lili Maria Fernandez was affectionately known as the family "wild child". The life of the party, she loved to dance, especially salsa, merengue, and bachata, and often sang beside her father during rehearsals for his trio group. But tragedy and loss have drawn out Lili's caretaking side, compelling her to become a victim's advocate. These days, the special rhythms of the past seem like a distant memory. Until she meets Diego Reyes....

A police officer with the Chicago PD, Diego also has a talent for playing classical Spanish guitar. Lili soon finds herself inspired by his passion — for the music, for her, and for their shared love of familia and community.

Can Diego reignite Lili's fun-loving spirit, persuade her to balance work and pleasure — and embrace her wild side once more?

Release date: November 27, 2018

Publisher: Zebra Books

Print pages: 352

Sample

“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 community 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.

The EMS team had wrapped the cut on Melba’s arm and cleaned a few scrapes on her elbow and left cheek, but she had declined the offer of a ride to the hospital for a more thorough checkup. More than likely she’d also deny Stevens’s attempts to talk her into pressing charges against her husband. Despite the lunatic coming at her with a freaking knife.

Experience had taught Diego that a person had to actually want their situation to change for it to happen. Someone else wanting it for them wasn’t enough.

With a muttered curse, he eyed Miss Fancy Pants perched on the torn sofa cushions, her arm around Melba González’s heaving shoulders.

In her black, figure-skimming cocktail dress and mile-high black stilettos, her small beaded purse that barely held her cell or much else of importance tossed on the broken remains of a coffee table, Lilí Fernandez looked as out of place as a White Sox fan in Wrigleyville on a Cubs game day. Diamond studs sparkled on her earlobes. A dainty silver necklace with a matching diamond pendant hung on her tanned chest, dangling above the edge of the scoop-necked material and the enticing cleavage he was trying like hell to ignore.

Damn if his mind didn’t keep going back to the moment when she’d body-slammed him in a poor attempt to get by. Her soft curves had pressed against his chest, her eyes going wide with shock.

Desire had shot through him. Surprised, he deliberately squelched it, instinctively backing away from temptation. He was on the job, and ogling a concerned citizen, as interesting as she might be, wasn’t protocol.

Moments later, he’d caught the flash of triumph in her eyes as she’d tossed him a smug grin over her slim shoulder and scurried through the door Stevens held open. Diego had been left standing on the front stoop like a dope, stunned he’d let his guard down. That never happened. On the job or off.

The sexy minx had him off his game.

Only, she was also a fancy minx, apparently having come straight from some swanky fundraiser at the art museum. Or so said the ticket she’d dropped onto the coffee table when she’d been digging in her purse for a tissue for Melba.

Despite her society trappings, which were warning signs he typically took heed of and stayed away from, there was something about the mix of Lilí Fernandez’s long dark hair, light hazel-green eyes and kiss-my-ass attitude that appealed to him. Crazy as that sounded.

Hell, the last thing he needed was to get involved with some rich do-gooder slumming on Chicago’s West Side. Forget the fact that she was somehow involved in a domestic case he and Stevens would have to file a report on. In the forty-five minutes or so he’d been around Lilí Fernandez he’d already deduced this chica was a handful, and right now, he had enough on his hands to keep him occupied.

Diego scratched his jaw, deciding to let Stevens continue taking the lead with the questioning. Better he keep his distance from this one. The situation hit too close to home, reminding him of his sister and the life she couldn’t bring herself to change.

“Have they located Tito yet?” Lilí asked.

Stevens glanced at Diego for confirmation. Lilí’s and Melba’s gazes slid over to him as well.

He shook his head, feeling bad about the scared look his answer put back in Melba’s dark eyes. A shaky breath wracked her plump body as she slumped over.

Lilí’s eyes narrowed, the determined jut of her chin clueing him in to the fact that he may not like what she was about to say.

Sí, he could already read her face. It was a skill that had led the narcotics squad to come knocking on his door a few months back. He’d turned down the promotion, determined to stay on his neighborhood streets. That’s where he planned to make a difference. One kid at a time.

“Have you put out a description? You never know who might be listening on a scanner or with an app and call in,” Lilí pressed.

“We’re working on it, miss,” Stevens answered, ever the polite Illinois farmer’s son.

“Yes, but—”

“It’s a busy day,” Diego interrupted, recognizing the pugnacious scowl on her expressive face. “The word is out on the streets. You may not know this area well, but if he’s lying low, it could take a while to find him.”

“Tengo miedo,” Melba murmured in a shaky voice.

Hell, he’d be afraid, too, if some drug-crazed lunatic had left with a warning that he’d be back to finish things.

“That’s why you should agree to press charges and let us get you to a shelter,” Diego said.

He took the four steps that led him from the kitchen into the living room, sidestepping a chair tipped on its side, one of the metal legs bent in the wrong direction.

Man, Tito González must have been crazed. The place looked like it’d been tossed by druggies desperate for something they could sell to get a fix. Based on Melba’s description of her husband’s behavior, that might not be far from the truth.

“He’s right, Melba,” Lilí agreed, rubbing a hand on the other woman’s knee in a show of support. “You shouldn’t stay here. I can get you into the shelter if you want.”

Melba shook her head. “I don’t want to be with a bunch of strangers I don’t trust. Me quedo aquí, en mi casa.”

¡Coño! Diego barely bit back the “damn” that itched on the tip of his tongue. No way should Melba stay in her house, alone and defenseless. Odds were Tito González would make good on his threat. Next time, Melba might not be so lucky.

“Ma’am, we’re trying to do our job to keep you safe,” Stevens tried, his polite Midwest accent softening the statement. “There are resources that can assist you.”

“But you need to help yourself,” Diego threw in.

Lilí scowled at him. Her eyes flashed with aggravation. . . maybe even a hint of anger . . . though he had no idea why the latter.

He stepped toward them. “Mira—”

“No, you look,” Lilí interrupted in a stern voice that halted his progress. “The last thing Melba needs right now is another man being pushy. Back off.”

Diego blinked in surprise. What the hell?

He could show this chica pushy if he wanted to. Which he didn’t. If there was one thing his mami had drilled into him, it was respect for all women.

Hands on his hips, he glared back at Lilí Fernandez like they were two middle-schoolers playing a game of chicken.

She narrowed her eyes the tiniest bit. He mimicked her.

Stevens cleared his throat—once, twice—before Diego could bring himself to forfeit.

He slid his gaze away from her, acknowledging with a brusque nod Stevens’s unspoken reminder to get his act together.

Lilí ducked her head to whisper with Melba.

Ay bendito, what was it about this woman that drove him to act like a rookie fresh out of the academy? First he turned his back and let her get around him to slip inside. Now he was losing his cool, making Stevens have to rein him in.

The radio on his shoulder squawked and Diego took advantage of the opportunity to step aside to call in his response.

Moments later, he clued back into the conversation between his partner and the two women in time to hear Lilí Fernandez saying, “We’ve both already said you can’t stay here alone, Melba. It isn’t safe. What about . . . what if I stay with you?”

“What?! ¿Estás loca?” Diego barked.

Stevens and the two women jerked, swiveling their heads his way with varying shades of surprise on their faces. Melba’s was tinted with fear. Stevens’s with disbelief. But Lilí’s, her surprise held an air of mutiny that warned him he’d crossed a line. Like he didn’t know that already.

“No, I’m not crazy,” she muttered. “I’m worried.” She clasped her hand with Melba’s and the two shared a shaky smile.

“I think what my partner is trying to say”—Stevens frowned at Diego before smoothing his pale, freckled face into his normal calm expression—“is that neither of you two ladies should stay here tonight.”

Diego caught the slight tremble in Lilí’s free hand before she drove it through her long hair in agitation. The move ruffled her wispy bangs, giving her a mussy, just-out-of-bed look he had no business admiring.

She put up a good, brave front. He had to respect that about her.

Her shapely brows furrowed, Lilí worried her lower lip, deep in thought. Diego could practically see the wheels turning in her head and he expected no good to come of it. Or at least nothing he’d consider a good idea anyway.

So far she’d gone from Melba being her client to her friend. He was sure she’d at least bent, if not broken, some type of rule in her professional capacity as a victim’s advocate.

“Okay then.” Lilí nodded slowly, her expression pensive. “If we can’t stay here, then you should come stay with me.”

Diego slapped a palm to his forehead.

Dios mío, Miss Bleeding Heart . . . okay, sexy Miss Bleeding Heart, most definitely had to be crazy.

Forget crossing the line, this girl had just leaped the hell over it.

Before Diego even said a word, Stevens sent him a wide-eyed, pursed-mouth, back-the-hell-off look. Yeah, his partner knew him too well. Because of his background, even with their average domestic case, Diego usually had a hard time shaking it. This one, thanks to Lilí Fernandez and her save-the-day tendency, had taken a sharp turn away from “average.” If she took Melba González home with her, knowing that a drug-crazed Tito remained on the loose, she’d potentially be putting herself in danger.

No way would Diego be able to walk away from this. No way could he simply file the report at the end of the night and let it go. Lilí might have no idea what she was getting herself into, but he did.

And he’d be damned if he’d let anything happen to someone else on his watch.

Ave Maria purísima, her sisters were going to kill her. No prayers to blessed Mary were going to save her either.

No doubt about it. When they found out Lilí had brought home with her one of her clients from the Victims’Abuse Center, Yazmine and Rosa were going to flip. Especially since, at the moment, h. . .