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“You need to go to a hospital,” one of the girls said. “We can’t just leave you here like this.”
“It’s okay. I have someone you can call.” I tried to pull the burner phone from my pocket but realized it was gone. Whoever attacked me must have taken it.
“Are you sure?” she asked. “Can they take you to the hospital?”
I nodded. I was good at pretending everything was okay, even if it wasn’t. I just needed to not think about what almost happened. If I could just get outside of my head, everything would be all right.
“Do you have the number written down somewhere?” The girl pulled up the keypad on her phone.
I shook my head. I didn’t need to write it down. Since Ace had texted me whenever I popped back up in Vegas, I knew his number by heart. Gypsy taught me long ago to memorize important numbers, and it occurred to me now that his was at the top of my list. Rattling off the digits, she dialed for me, considered handing me the phone, and then realized that wouldn’t work. I leaned my head back against the concrete wall and fought the exhaustion pulling at my heavy eyes.
“Just tell him I’m ready to come home now.”
I DOUBLE PARKED THE TRUCK on the side of the street and bailed out the minute I recognized the blond halo of hair. My feet were moving in her direction before my mind could catch up to what was happening. I was running on adrenaline and zero sleep, but this time, it wasn’t just my paranoia that something was wrong.
She was slumped against the building, head drooped forward with a curtain of hair around her shoulders. I couldn’t see her face, but I saw the matching expressions of concern on the two women beside her.
“Birdie?” I choked out her name, but it was too quiet for her to hear. I was still too far away, yet somehow, she knew. She knew I was there.
Her head lifted, and I came to an abrupt stop on the sidewalk, causing a chain reaction as pedestrians bumped against each other when they swerved to avoid me. Haunted eyes locked onto my face, relief swelling in the icy blue depths as she brought a trembling hand to her mouth and choked back a sob.
She was battered and bloody, and the horror of what I saw transported me back in time. I was trembling, vibrating, pieces of my past shifting and breaking apart the deep-rooted emotions I’d buried long ago. Fear and fury swirled in my gut, mixing into a toxic cocktail I could no longer control. It bled into my veins and infected me as my body lurched forward with one objective in mind.
Maim. Kill. Destroy.
“Who did this?” I snarled, making all three girls jump as their heads swiveled in my direction.
“Do you know this guy?” one of the unfamiliar faces asked Birdie.
She nodded, her eyes never leaving mine.
“Huck?” The pain in her voice snapped me out of the alternate reality I’d found myself in. I blinked, trying to shake off the grip of the past and focus on my present. On my future. On my whole fucking world as I knew it.
“Birdie,” I choked out her name again as I knelt before her to examine her face.
“Just take me home,” she pleaded. “I want to go home.”
Home.
Her home was with me. I wanted to tell her as much, but I couldn’t speak. In a matter of seconds, she’d turned me mute again. Her battered face was too fucking much. I buried my face into her body, clinging to her like a fool as I vowed to kill whoever did this to her. I would make them suffer in a thousand different ways until they begged me for death. It was the only possible outcome. Nobody touched this angel.
Birdie’s fingers came to rest in my hair, stroking me in a way that soothed the murderous thoughts ravaging my mind. I should have been the one to comfort her. That was my job. But I didn’t know how, and it was never more evident than when I looked up at her and saw the exhaustion on her face.
I stood and gingerly lifted her body into my arms, cradling her against my chest. Turning toward the women who had called me, it occurred to me that I owed them more than they could ever know.
“Thank you,” I forced out. “For staying with her.”
“Please take her to a doctor.”
I nodded, and they watched on as I moved in the direction of the truck. It was still idling, and it appeared I’d forgotten my keys in the ignition during the chaos. But it was the douchebag in the Porsche behind me who drew my attention.
He kept honking, screaming out obscenities as I took my time securing Birdie into her seat. I wanted to kiss her. I wanted to sit there and inventory every bruise and scratch on her face so I could provide a detailed checklist for the doctor. But traffic had become congested behind us, and the Porsche fucker was only getting louder and more obnoxious.
