Page 27 of Bought By Three Men

Daryl parked two blocks away from where I thought drug alley was. I didn’t want them to see the car.

The first street the woman said it might be, had a few people mulling around. Nothing that indicated it was the right place.

Before I hit the next street, burnt plastic crawled up my nose. It had to be it. I turned the corner. Definitely the place. Garbage overflowed in the dumpsters. People littered all over. A cloud of smoke hovered above.

I didn’t blame any of them. When I lost my wife, I wanted the pain to go away. I went through a lot of bottles of rum. Until one day, I crawled my way out of the sorrow.

I stopped the first person that looked somewhat coherent. “I’m looking for Lisa. Older. Skinny.”

“Lisa Addy?” he leaned against the wall.

“Maybe. I’m not sure what last name she goes by these days.” I shrugged.

“That’s not her last name. It’s Addy for addict.” The man chuckled, then pointed further down the alley.

Searching for her, I stepped over people. When I got my hands on her, I was going to strangle her. Threatening Ava like that. No wonder Ava slept under her bed.

Lisa was curled up next to a dumpster. Her misspelled tattoo had a rope tied around it. The needle was on the ground. Fuck. I didn’t have time for this.

“Lisa. We gotta talk.” I untied the rope.

Nothing.

“Lisa!” I shook her.

Nothing.

Fuck.

I scooped her up. She weighed less than my son. As I ran down the alley, people shouted at me. I couldn’t hear what they said, my heart was pounding in my ears.

Daryl must have seen me running. He was out of the car with the back door open.

“NB General!” I shouted as I jumped in the back.

“Sir, you can’t.” Daryl’s words were strained.

“Go,” I growled.

Daryl stepped on the gas. He swerved in and out of what little traffic there was. As he sped, I tried to find a pulse. Nothing. Shit. If she died in my arms, I would kill her.

We pulled up to the emergency room entrance. I jumped out with Lisa and ran inside. Everything was silent. The nurses turned and stared at us. Security slowly approached us, hands on their guns.

Dr. Scario, a man I highly respected, walked toward us, hands in the air. “I’m going to have to ask you to leave.”

“She’s dying. Help her!” I nodded toward Lisa. Why was he doing nothing?

“There is a free clinic a few blocks away. If they aren’t too busy, they will help with your kind.” Dr. Scario pointed toward the door.

My kind? Oh. The clothes. Lisa’s appearance and smell. He thought we were homeless. I went to many charity events with him, and he didn’t recognize me.

“This is Lisa Moore of Moore Tech. You're gonna deny an elite?” Most doctors and nurses were rich, which meant we were above them. I tried not to push my status around, but desperate times.

“Oh.” Dr. Scario jumped. The atmosphere changed. Everyone started moving. Lisa was taken from me. Security took their hands off their guns. Someone yelled for a crash cart. Within seconds she was being wheeled away.

“Are you her butler?” A nurse with a clipboard came over to me.

“No. I’m Tristan Miller of Miller Law Firm.” I stuck out my hand. “I was uh…changing the oil on my car.”

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