Total pages in book: 58
Estimated words: 54343 (not accurate)
Estimated Reading Time in minutes: 272(@200wpm)___ 217(@250wpm)___ 181(@300wpm)
Estimated words: 54343 (not accurate)
Estimated Reading Time in minutes: 272(@200wpm)___ 217(@250wpm)___ 181(@300wpm)
She hesitated before nodding bravely. “Every night he’d tuck me in so tightly I couldn’t move. I’d be stuck there until someone released me the next morning.”
Furious, Street forced himself to soften his tone. “That bastard. Did he touch you? Hurt you?”
Rosa shook her head. “No. Just eliminated me. With me confined to bed, they could be a family of three.”
“Your mother didn’t help you?”
“Never.”
His vision went red with more anger than he’d ever experienced. How could anyone treat a child like that?
Her hand covered his. “It’s okay, Street. I left. They don’t matter now.”
He looked into her dark eyes and vowed mentally to provide the happiest future possible for his Little girl. “That life is over now, Rosa.”
“I don’t have to hide anymore?” she whispered.
“Well, the Ravagers are on the warpath, but we’ll handle them soon.”
“Wow.” That single word held hope. Street wished he’d found her years ago. He could have saved her so many unhappy years. Somehow, he’d make sure karma struck her mother and stepfather.
“I’d love for you to choose to stay here with me, Dinorosa.” His phone rang, preventing Rosa from responding. Street glanced at his cell phone, regretting the interruption, but the caller’s name told him this was important. “Eat, Little girl, while it’s hot. I’ll take care of this quickly.”
Street stepped into the garage and answered. “Razor?”
“First, I got the results of the blood work. Lucien did well to send you home. The drug you were given lasts for a long time. By tomorrow, that substance should be totally out of your body. I want you to flood your system with water. Try to drink an eight-ounce glass of liquid every hour until bedtime tonight. Non-alcoholic stuff, Street.”
“I’m going to float away,” Street joked, thinking he’d never manage that.
“Either get my recommendation done or you’ll be off again tomorrow,” Razor threatened.
“Fine,” Street responded, bristling that the doctor had the power to keep him from being at the warehouse.
“Good. Second, how’s Rosa?”
“She’s settling in. She’s had a tough life. I may need some guidance with the nutritional needs of a Little girl who’s gone without proper food for a while.”
“Bring Rosa in next Saturday for an exam. I’ll run some tests. Are you both interested in birth control?” Razor asked.
“Yes. Could you help us with that?”
“After checking on her health, definitely. Wraith said the only groceries in her apartment were a couple of dented cat food cans. I don’t think she owns a pet.” Razor’s tone revealed his anger at Rosa’s desperate efforts to survive.
“Fuck,” Street swore, shaking his head in disbelief.
“Feed her.”
“I’m making a snack for her now. Would you arrange a barbecue for me this week? Rosa needs to meet the rest of the MC and the girls.”
“Already in progress. Wraith’s driveway at six on Sunday. We’ll take advantage of the early closing time at Inferno so more people can attend.”
“I owe you one, Razor.”
“No, you don’t. Go drink some damn water. And I put a small helmet in your garage.”
The line disconnected before he could acknowledge Razor’s gift. That smart bastard noticed everything. Street shook his head at the screen. Razor definitely didn’t mince words with his MC brothers. He headed inside.
“Sorry, Dinorosa. Razor wanted to check on me.” Street headed for the cabinet and pulled down two plastic tumblers. Might as well get started. He filled one with water and grabbed the milk from his fridge.
“He seemed nice. Inky appreciated him,” Rosa said. She picked up one triangle and took a huge bite.
“You didn’t need to wait for me, Little girl. Next time start without me.”
She wrinkled her nose at him adorably and shook her head as she chewed before mumbling, “That’s rude.”
“Not if you’re hungry, Dinorosa.”
Rosa waved the quesadilla at him and changed the subject. “Yum. This is good.”
“Do you want something to put on your quesadilla?” Street asked, pouring her a healthy portion of milk and setting the glass in front of her. “Salsa? Mustard?”
“You have mustard?” she asked, sitting up straighter as if she were excited.
“I do.” Street returned the milk to the refrigerator and grabbed a big bottle of yellow mustard from the door. Shaking the mixture up as he walked, he placed the container on the table by her plate and slid into his own chair. “Help yourself.”
As he watched, she poured a tiny amount onto the edge of her plate and barely dipped the tortilla into the yellow mixture. Her eyes closed as she took a bite and chewed. “That’s even better,” she mumbled around the food.
“No talking with your mouth full, Little girl. I don’t want you to choke.”
“Sorry!” She repeated the action, barely making a dent in the mustard puddle.
Street picked up the bottle and squeezed a large amount onto her plate, drawing a gasp from her lips. “Crap. I don’t know my own strength. Will you help me eat this?”