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“That I am, kid.” He wondered if that was a good thing or not coming from someone who was less than four feet tall.
“Okay, then.”
Clay was silent for a moment. “Well, good.” He held out his arms. The kid looked at them, then up at his face in confusion. “Will you let me carry you?” Clay asked.
He waited. Then two pale, thin limbs rose.
Clay carried the child up some rickety stairs, tucking her into his jacket. Poor little thing shook against his chest. Just cold? Or scared as well?
“Nobody is going to hurt you,” Clay reassured the tiny child clinging to him, patting her back, horrified by how bony she felt. “I promise.”
A small head nodded. “This is my door.”
The apartment building was run down; only half the inside lights worked and the smell of sweaty bodies permeated the air, clogging his nostrils. He shifted the kid’s weight to one arm, holding her easily as he knocked on the door.
No answer.
He knocked again, louder. Damn, he had a bad feeling about this.
“Colin, come and hold the kid while I go check this out.”
The child whimpered in his hold and held onto him tighter. Poor thing. “It’s okay,” Clay whispered. “I’ll be right back.”
Clay managed to untangle himself from the mass of limbs attached to him and entered the room.
Shit.
*****
Lila didn’t like the hospital. The lights were too bright and it smelled funny. The only thing that kept her here was the man holding her tightly on his lap.
Clay.
She still had his hat. She figured while she had it he wouldn’t leave her; surely he wouldn’t leave his hat behind. She liked the way he smelled and the soft way he talked, even if he did sound kind of funny. She even liked the way he held her. He was big, but he hadn’t hurt her or yelled at her or pushed her around. She wasn’t so sure about his sons. They stared at her and she wasn’t sure why.
Something bad had happened to Momma. The mean man had done something; she knew he had. She whimpered, wondering what was happening. Clay tightened his hold and kissed the top of her head. A warm feeling filled her.
“Why don’t you two head back to the hotel room,” Clay said to his sons. What were their names? Oh yeah, Colin and Trace. Colin was taller and he kept smiling at her. The other one didn’t smile at all. “Gavin will be back at the hotel and I don’t know how long this will take us.”
Who was Gavin?
Colin and Trace stared at her again before nodding. She was glad when they left and she buried her face against Clay’s chest once more. It wasn’t often that someone held her.
Clay stood as the nurse approached, the kid still holding on tight. The only time she’d let go was when Clay had forced her to go to Colin, and he’d glad he had. Seeing her mother in the state he’d found her, bloody and bruised, was not something a little one needed to see.
“You’re with Abigail West?” the nurse asked.
Clay nodded. He’d gotten that much out of the kid. Still didn’t know her name though.
The nurse smiled at the girl. “And this is her daughter? What’s your name, cutie?”
The girl looked up at Clay, who nodded.
“Lila West,” she said quietly. “Is Momma sick?”
The nurse gave her a sympathetic look. “Come this way.”
Clay followed the nurse, carrying Lila. Abigail West lay in the hospital bed, looking broken and worse for wear. Clay felt a surge of anger towards the bastard who’d done this. Abigail might not win any parenting prizes but surely she didn’t deserve this.
