Total pages in book: 67
Estimated words: 60978 (not accurate)
Estimated Reading Time in minutes: 305(@200wpm)___ 244(@250wpm)___ 203(@300wpm)
Estimated words: 60978 (not accurate)
Estimated Reading Time in minutes: 305(@200wpm)___ 244(@250wpm)___ 203(@300wpm)
“Her name is Eliza,” I growled, stepping forward. “And she doesn’t need to get any story straight because she’s telling the truth.”
Ms. Winters finally glanced at Eliza, her expression cold. “The evidence suggests otherwise, Mr. Kingston.”
“She’s been begging for medical testing for years,” I shot back. “She’s got an appointment set up with a specialist. Just wait for the results.”
“Any medical care she’s finally set up will certainly be considered at the hearing.” Her tone made it clear she thought it was just another delaying tactic. The way she insinuated Eliza had only just started trying to get her daughter care made me grind my teeth. She turned toward the vehicle where the officer sat in the driver’s seat with Lily in the back. The little girl’s face was streaked with tears, her small body shaking with sobs as she continued to hit the glass. Where the fuck was Lana? I pulled out my phone to call her, but reception was shit in this area.
Eliza made a move toward the car, but Ms. Winters smoothly stepped between them. “Physical contact isn’t permitted at this time. You’ll be notified about visitation procedures. Your lawyer can contact our office tomorrow during business hours,” Ms. Winters continued, speaking to a point somewhere over Eliza’s shoulder. “The judge assigned to the case is Judge Whitmore. I suggest you prepare accordingly.”
With her final barb, she slid into the passenger seat of the police cruiser. The car doors closed, and the finality echoed through the concrete space. The engine hummed to life, the sound absurdly gentle for the violence of what was happening. Red taillights glowed as the vehicle pulled away, ascending the exit ramp in a smooth, unhurried motion.
The garage fell silent. The buzzing fluorescent lights seemed suddenly louder in the absence of Lily’s cries, casting harsh shadows across the concrete pillars and floor. The smell of exhaust lingered in the air, mixing with the garage’s permanent odor of oil and dust. Eliza stood frozen, staring at the empty space where the car had been. I should have blocked them with my bike. The only reason I didn’t was because me getting arrested wouldn’t help Lily or Eliza.
For a long moment, I stood there next to Eliza. I didn’t know what to say. Nothing in my life had prepared me for this kind of sanctioned cruelty. I got it. Ms. Winters’ job was to protect the city’s children. If she had to take them out of a home to keep them safe, she had to be the bad guy. But what the hell would five Goddamned minutes have hurt?
“She’s gone,” Eliza whispered, her voice so faint I barely heard it. “They took her. She’s hurt and scared and I don’t know what to do!”
The shock keeping her upright suddenly seemed to drain from her body. Her knees buckled, and she began to fall. I moved without thinking, closing the distance between us in a lunge to catch her before she hit the concrete. Her body collapsed against mine, surprisingly small and fragile in my arms. For a heartbeat she was rigid, and then something broke inside her.
The first sob tore from her throat with such force it seemed to physically shake her. Then another, and another, until she was crying with her entire body. Her hands clutched blindly at my cut, fingers digging into the leather as if she might anchor herself against the storm of her grief.
I stood awkwardly, my arms going around her automatically, completely out of my depth. I’d comforted crying women before, but this was different. This wasn’t sadness or disappointment. This was raw, primal anguish. It resonated in some deep inside when I remembered my own mother’s tears, my own separation. My arms tightened around her instinctively.
“She needs me. She’ll be so scared.” Her words broke through the sobs muffled against my chest.
“You won’t lose her,” I said, the words coming before I’d fully thought them through. “We’ll get her back.”
Eliza pulled back slightly, looking up at me with red-rimmed eyes swimming with tears. Her face was blotchy, her breath coming in hiccupping gasps. “How?” she asked, the word broken and desperate. “They’ve already decided I’m guilty. They think I hurt her.” Another sob shook her. “My baby. They took my baby.”
My calloused hand moved awkwardly to her back, patting gently in what I hoped was a comforting rhythm. I had no practice at this, no script to follow. But something about her desperation, about Lily’s frightened face pressed against the car window, solidified into certainty inside me.
“I’ll help you get her back,” I said, my voice rough with emotion I hadn’t expected to feel. “Lana will fight this legally. The club has connections. And the specialist at Vanderbilt will find what’s really going on with Lily.”
I surprised myself with the fierceness of my tone, with the certainty I would do whatever it took to reunite this woman with her daughter. It wasn’t just about helping anymore, or about doing Lana a favor. Somewhere in the past two days, without my noticing, I’d become invested in their story, in their pain.