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)
I didn’t need to be told twice. I headed toward my bike. I swung my leg over the seat, the familiar rumble of the engine vibrating through me as I kicked it to life. As I peeled out of the compound, the image of Lily’s small, frightened face burned in my mind, along with the sound of Eliza’s desperation through the Goddamned phone.
I’d seen enough kids torn from their mothers in the foster system to know what happened next. Hell, most of the guys I knew had been in the same situation. But not this time. Not this kid. I opened the throttle wider, the night air rushing past me as I raced toward the hospital, determined to keep a promise I hadn’t even realized I’d made.
I pushed my bike harder than I should have through Nashville’s evening traffic, weaving between cars and hoping like fuck I didn’t get blue-lighted. Every red light became a judgment call, every intersection a calculated risk. My jaw ached from clenching it so tight, my knuckles white around the handlebars as the hospital finally came into view.
The memory of Lily’s small voice singing along with me days earlier drove me forward, fueling a protective rage I hadn’t felt in years. This wasn’t my fight, I kept telling myself, even as I took the hospital entrance fast enough to momentarily gain air. But it didn’t matter whose fight it was anymore. What mattered was a frightened little girl being ripped away from her mother by people who’d made up their minds without looking at all the evidence.
The parking garage entrance swallowed me, the sudden darkness broken only by flickering fluorescent lights giving everything a sickly, unnatural glow. I gunned the engine down the ramp, the sound reverberating off concrete walls, announcing my arrival in a very not subtle fashion. I swerved around the curve and onto the second level, my gaze scanning the sparse evening cluster of vehicles.
There. Near the elevator bank. A group of figures stood in harsh silhouette under the buzzing lights. A woman in a dark pantsuit, her back rigid with authority. A uniformed police officer, his hand resting lightly on the shoulder of a small child. And Lily, tiny and fragile, her pink cast visible even from a distance, her small body wracked with sobs I might not be able to hear, but I could see. Several feet away stood Eliza, her arms wrapped tightly around herself as if physically holding herself together, her face a mask of devastation.
I brought the bike to a screeching halt twenty feet from the group, the tires squealing against concrete. I didn’t bother with the kickstand, just let the bike fall against a pillar as I dismounted in one fluid movement, yanking my helmet off and dropping it beside the motorcycle. My boots echoed heavily as I strode toward them, my volunteer badge still clipped to my cut from my earlier shift.
“Stop!” I demanded, keeping my voice level despite the rage building inside me. I positioned myself closer to Eliza, a physical reminder she wasn’t alone anymore.
Ms. Winters turned toward me, her lips thinning with recognition and annoyance. “Mr. Kingston. This doesn’t concern you.”
Lily’s crying paused momentarily as she spotted me, her eyes opening wide. “Cash!” she called out, her voice going shrill as she kicked and thrashed to get away from the officer. The big man crouched beside her, talking softly but still holding her gently around the waist. Lily shook her head violently, trying to get free.
“Her lawyer’s on the way,” I said, addressing both the social worker and the officer. “Lana Thompson. You have to wait for her.”
“We have a court order,” Ms. Winters replied coolly, holding up a document. “This isn’t up for debate or delay.”
“You’re in a safe place. Lily isn’t in imminent danger. Waiting five minutes right here isn’t going to make much of a difference.”
I glanced at Eliza, whose eyes were red-rimmed but dry, as if she’d moved beyond tears to a place of numb shock. She took a small step toward me, her voice barely audible. “They waited until visiting hours were over. Said it would be easier on everyone this way.”
The officer shifted uncomfortably, his expression suggesting he wasn’t entirely comfortable with the situation. He was young, probably new to the force. His wedding ring caught the fluorescent light when he moved his hand.
“Officer,” I said, addressing him directly, “Ms. Jans has legal representation who is en route right now. She was with me when Ms. Jans called and sent me ahead of her. Surely you can wait five minutes to make sure everything’s being done by the book.”
“The paperwork is in order,” he replied, but the uncertainty in his voice was evident. “I don’t really have a reason to delay.”
Ms. Winters stepped between us. “The placement has been arranged, the foster family is waiting, and it’s already past the child’s bedtime. Further delay only prolongs everyone’s distress.”