Little Sunshine

5. Stay Away from Drugs

It’s really her.

When my gaze had moved from the front desk employee to the woman slowly retreating, I hadn’t believed my eyes.

My luck.

When she’d hauled ass away from me like the devil, hellhounds, and costumed card slappers were chasing her, I’d have put all my money on never seeing my little thief again.

At least not in real life. In my head was another story.

But there she was. In the lobby of Moonlight with a hoodie pulled over her head. Even not being able to see her face, I knew it was her.

My body had known it was her.

I’d been the sick fuck getting a hard-on from seeing her. All the damn while she was in pain.

I wanted to remove her hood to get a better look at the damage, but I didn’t want to spook her. Her shoulders already rose and fell too quickly. Her voice was so small, I could barely make out her words. “This was a mistake.”

I didn’t get the chance to ask what she meant when she suddenly dropped.

No sway. No wobble.

No attempt to catch herself.

For the second time in a handful of days, I caught her before she hit the floor. But unlike last time, she was out cold.

Lifting her into my arms, I ignored everyone else as I stalked back to the reserved elevator. Calling an ambulance would be fast, but I could drive faster. I just needed my keys from where I’d left them in my office.

When the front desk had called me, I’d been finishing working over a scammer in The Basement—the bottom floor of Moonlight where we brought people who’d fucked up.

The last time I’d had my keys in my pocket during one of those sessions, they’d fallen out and gotten covered in so many bodily fluids, I’d had to disinfect them for a week.

I jostled her just enough to press the button to start our quick rise. Once the doors slid closed behind us, I gently moved her hood aside to see more of her face.

Fuck.

Fucking damn fuck.

Her face was a damn mess. Her left eye was swollen. Her cheeks were blotted red. Her lip was split. Scrapes and abrasions covered one cheek, almost like she’d dragged it across sandpaper covered in shards of glass.

Christ, her airbag did a number on her.

Explains why she came here.

She must have a helluva concussion.

The elevator doors slid open, and I stepped into the small waiting room. Cole and Marco were at Nebula with Maximo, so the floor was empty. I used my thumb to get into my office.

Snagging my keys from where I’d tossed them on my desk, I turned back toward the door when she suddenly twisted in my arms. If I hadn’t been holding her so tight, she’d have fallen and made her injuries worse.

Her urgent voice pitched sharper. “Put me down. Put me down. Put me down, asshole!”

At her increasingly panicked insistence, I gently set her on the leather couch at the side of the room. She scrambled back, her fear fucking palpable.

Christ.

“Hey, it’s okay. It’s just me,” I said, like that meant a damn thing to her. I kept my distance and lifted my hands placatingly at her. “I’m not trying to hurt you. I’m just taking you to the hospital.”

She stopped moving, but her body vibrated with tension. Her eyes widened, giving me a little more of her pretty blues. The swollen one had to hurt like a motherfucker, but she didn’t even flinch. “No hospital.”

“You said you were in an accident,” I told her slowly, wondering how bad her concussion was. “Were you driving?”

Rather than answer, she averted her eyes and whispered, “I have to go.”

“Tell me what happened.”

She still wouldn’t look at me. “Nothing.”

“This sure as shit isn’t nothing.” At her silence—not to mention her refusal to go to the hospital—my mind started going. And I fucking hated the direction it went. Because if she’d been in a car crash and didn’t want to get checked out… “You drunk?”

That made her eyes snap to meet mine. “I don’t drink.”

“High?”

“Never.” She was back to scrambling as she hurriedly stood before freezing. Her face contorted from the pain. “I need to go.”

“Yeah. To the damn doctor.”

She lost what little color she had, but it didn’t stop her from taking a step toward the door.

“Christ, sit back down.”

“No hospital,” she hissed out through gritted teeth.

“Fine. Sit.”

She gave a stubborn lift of her chin. “I mean it.”

“So do I.” I held up three fingers in a scout’s sign. “Scout’s honor.”

Her brow rose before she winced again. “You weren’t a Boy Scout.”

“Sure, I was.” When she just eyed me, I added, “For three whole weeks.”

“And then?”

“And then I realized they had too many rules. Now sit.”

“Talk about too many rules,” she muttered even as she sat and practically melted into the couch. Her head rested against the back, and her eyes drifted closed.

“Hey, hey, hey.” I’d had more than enough concussions to know she shouldn’t be asleep. “You’ve gotta stay awake, or I’m taking you to the hospital.”

“You promised,” she said without opening her eyes.

“Tell me what happened.” When she didn’t answer, I prodded, “Tell me, little girl.”

She didn’t take the bait. There was none of the attitude she’d tossed my way in the food court. Instead, she remained stubbornly silent.

“Let me see if there’s a first-aid kit around here,” I said.

She made a small murmur of acknowledgment—or a pained noise—as she lifted her feet onto the couch and wrapped her arms around her bent legs.

Christ. She looked even more frail sitting like that, curled into herself.

Going into the bathroom, I pulled out my phone and scrolled through my contacts until I found the number I needed. The call connected, and I kept my voice low. “May, it’s Ash Cooper. I need the doc at Moonlight now.”

I gave Dr. Pierce’s wife—who also worked as his receptionist for off-the-book cases—more info about my mystery woman’s injuries and refusal to go to the hospital before clicking off. After I texted Miles to wait in the front lobby for him, I dug in the storage cabinets for the basic kit and grabbed some damp paper towels.

When I returned to my office, she was still in the same position. Her breathing was even, but her mouth was set to a scowl even as she slept.

She shouldn’t be asleep, but I didn’t wake her yet. I kept my touch light, barely grazing as I felt around for a wallet or ID.

Nothing.

I used my phone to check my usual sources for reports of a crash or abandoned car.

Nothing there, either.

Maybe that means she wasn’t the one driving while fucked up, and she’s trying to protect a friend.

Or boyfriend.

If that was the case, that hypothetical motherfucker better hope he was already dead in a ditch somewhere. Because if he’d taken a stupid as fuck risk with her in the car…

Dead in a ditch would be heaven compared to what I would do to him.

Knowing I’d let her sleep too long, I softly murmured, “Hey, let’s get you cleaned up a little.”

“I’m fine.”

“And you’ll be better once we get those scrapes clean.”

Without opening her eyes, she held out her hand. When I didn’t give her anything, she wiggled her fingers. “I can do it myself.”

“Not saying you can’t.”

When I didn’t relent, she slowly lifted her head and cracked her lids to watch me warily as I wiped her face. It had to sting like hell, but she stayed stoic.

“I’m sorry,” she whispered, her blank expression unchanged as I worked. “I shouldn’t have come here.”

“You sure as fuck should’ve.”

“I just didn’t know where else to go.”

If she wasn’t two seconds away from passing back out, I’d have allowed myself to like that. Like that she’d come to me. Asked for me.

But right then, my focus was on making sure she was taken care of.

“Always to me,” I said before I could stop myself—adding being a creepy fuck to being a sick fuck.

It didn’t matter anyway. She didn’t seem to hear me as she stared ahead.

I reached out to tilt her head to the other side, but as soon as my fingers came in contact with her chin, she flinched away.

And not from the pain since I’d barely grazed her.

“Sorry, just tender,” she muttered.

Lied.

What the fuck?

Ignoring the questions I had no right to ask—and had no chance in hell of getting answers to—I focused on the basics. “Tell me your name.”

“It doesn’t matter.”

“It does.”

She didn’t give me the chance to clean her other cheek before she lowered it back to her knees. Her lids drifted closed. “I just needed someplace to rest. I’ll leave in a minute.”

The fuck you will.

I didn’t say that to her. “If you’re going soon, no reason not to tell me your name first.”

“No reason to do it, either.”

“Is the fact I want to know not a good reason?”

“No,” she said with zero hesitation.

My lips tipped at the small sign of attitude.

The silence stretched. I thought she’d fallen asleep when she quietly said, “Mila.”

“Mila,” I repeated, liking the way it sounded.

Liking that she’d told me.

Wondering if it was the truth.

“Was that so hard, Mila?”

She shifted her head to glare at me before resting again.

I hated to do it, but I ordered, “You need to stay awake.”

“But I’m tired.” Bone-deep exhaustion seeped into her voice. “So fucking tired.”

Contrary to her claim, when the elevator suddenly dinged a moment later, she quickly sat up.

Miles filled the office doorway, and her gaze shot to me.

Betrayal.

Accusation.

Panic.

“It’s okay,” I tried, but it was too late.

She bolted upright, ready to run.

Or kick me in the balls.

I wasn’t sure which.

Likely both.

Miles picked up on her anxiety and raised his hands, flashing her the smile that charmed even the pissy old ladies who stalked the penny slots. “I’m just here with the doctor.”

Well-intended as his words may have been, it was the wrong fucking thing to say.

Mila spun on her heel, pointing a finger up at me. “You promised.”

“Promised I wouldn’t bring you to the doctor. Said nothing about bringing the doctor here.”

“That’s the same thing.” Her head tilted to the side for a moment. “Actually, it’s worse.”

“How?”

Ignoring me, she stormed toward Miles and the doorway. Her voice was rough—from pain, anger, or both—when she forced out, “Excuse me.”

His gaze went over her head to meet mine, and I shook my head. He stayed in place, blocking her exit.

She dropped the niceties. “Move.”

“Mila—” I started.

“Move now, or I’ll…” She raised her chin. “If you don’t, I’ll…”

“You’ll what, little girl?” I asked from behind her.

“I’ll… Oh shit.” She darted to the side. Miles shifted to block her, but she wasn’t trying to escape. She slammed down onto her knees and grabbed the wastebasket, barely getting it under her before she retched.

“Fuck.” I moved behind her, holding her hair away from her face as she threw up what she had in her stomach. From what I could tell, it wasn’t much more than water and stomach acid.

“Go away.” Another heave mixed with a sob, and she half-assedly swatted at my hand. “Go.”

I didn’t.

Keeping hold of her hair, I crouched behind her and rubbed her back.

A water bottle appeared in front of her, and she took it from Miles’ outstretched hand with her own shaking one. Before she could take a sip, her body leaned to the side, and the bottle dropped. She barely flinched as the cold water spilled onto her bare legs.

Fuck it.

The space I’d been trying to give her was gone as I gathered her into my arms. I sat on the couch with her on my lap but kept my arms loose.

She leaned away from me. “I just need to eat. Or sleep.”

“Let the doc look at you.” I stroked her hair from her face. “Then you can go.”

Even as I said it, I knew it was a lie.

When she didn’t argue, I jerked my head for Dr. Pierce to come over. I didn’t put Mila down as he poked and prodded. Her eyes stayed closed the entire time, her face blank except for the occasional wince.

After a few minutes, he used a gentle, doctory voice. “We need to reconsider going to the hospital.”

“No,” Mila shot back immediately.

“Baby,” I said without thinking, “if the doctor says?—”

“No.” The one word was even firmer and backed up by her trying to launch herself off my lap. “I told you, I just need to eat.”

“Good. They’ve got food at the hospital.”

“I’m not going.” That time when she shoved away from me, she did it so forcefully, I had to release her before she hurt herself. She scrambled to stand, and her body swayed, but she just lifted that stubborn chin. “I appreciate the concern, but I’m good. And I’m leaving.”

“Mila.”

At my tone, she froze, and tears glimmered in her eyes. Despite all the pain she had to be in, it was the first sign of them. Like she was holding it together by pure spite, only one drop slid down her scraped cheek.

As heart-fucking-breaking as it was, I wasn’t going to bend. Not when it came to her health.

I could say that I would feel that strongly about any random person’s pain and suffering, but I wouldn’t. Years of working in Vegas had shown me most people weren’t all bad.

They were worse.

A shitty outer shell that hid an even shittier, rotten inside.

Other than my family and small circle—who were basically family—I didn’t give a single, solitary fuck about other people.

For whatever reason, I gave a whole lotta fucks about Mila.

I snagged her wrist and carefully situated her back onto my lap before she passed out.

“If you don’t let me go, I’m going to scream.” Her threat may have been genuine, but her body contradicted her words. It leaned into me. Her grip on my arm wasn’t to shove it away or dig her nails into my flesh.

Instead, she held my arm to her like it was a seat belt she wanted to keep in place.

Or so I thought.

Because with my guard down, Mila struck.

Keeping hold of me with one hand, she used the other to dick punch me. She missed most of the good stuff but caught enough to make me instinctively loosen my hold.

When I did, she bolted to her feet and raised a fist at where Miles filled the doorway. A slight breeze would’ve knocked her over, but that didn’t stop her. “Get out of my way, or you’re next.”

Christ, that was hot.

Dick punch or not, I had to fight getting as hard almost as much as I had to fight a smile.

Not the time and all that.

Miles’ face stayed blank, but I’d worked with him long enough to catch the amusement in his slight brow rise.

I wasn’t about to back down, no matter how much rage she packed in her tiny, five-foot-nothing frame. “Mila, if the doc?—”

Dr. Pierce didn’t have any balls against her steel ones, though, because he cut me off. “I understand. Let me at least give you something for the pain. Are you allergic to anything?”

I opened my mouth to ask what the fuck was going through his thick skull but caught myself.

Getting her some relief is most important right now.

I’ll stop her from leaving after that.

Remaining silent, her gaze darted between us—like a skittish doe surrounded by predators—but it kept returning to me.

Like she knew I was the wolf to watch out for.

“Mila, allergies?” he prompted. When she shook her head, Dr. Pierce grabbed a bottle from his kit.

After a long, hesitant minute, she asked, “Just some pain meds, then I can go?”

“Absolutely.”

Absolutely fuckingnot.

Mila shot me a look that bordered on gloating before accepting the pills and a fresh bottle of water. She tossed them back and gave Dr. Pierce—that spineless bastard—a small smile. “Thank you. Sorry for the trouble. And sorry I can’t…” Her words trailed off as she scowled before wincing.

“Sit and let those kick in.”

A beeping filled the air, and Mila jolted, her hands going to her ears.

It wasn’t my cell, but I quickly silenced mine anyway while Pierce looked at his. “I need to take this.”

Mila watched him go, shifting forward when Miles stepped aside to let the doc out. When he returned to block the door, she let out a small, frustrated huff. “One minute. Then I’ve really got to get home before...”

Before someone notices? Someone misses you? Someone gets worried and reports you missing?

“Before what?” I prodded when her sentence trailed off. “Is there someone waiting for you?”

If she had a man at home—and he wasn’t the one responsible for the accident—it wasn’t a dealbreaker. An inconvenience, sure, but nothing I couldn’t handle.

It could always just be a roommate she was worried about, and that meant even less.

“Of course, my boyfriend. Sorry, boyfriends. Plural.” Mila started to rub her forehead before pulling her hand away. “My whole apartment is full of men. Stacked to the rafters.”

I knew she was fucking with me, but that didn’t stop the surge of murderous jealousy from hitting harder than her fist to my balls.

As soon as you feel better, little girl, you’ll pay for that.

She sat as far from me as she could get, and I gave her that—for then. Every so often, she sipped her water, but I wasn’t fooled. She wasn’t resting. She was covertly checking her surroundings. Waiting for an opening. An opportunity.

If Miles moved even half a foot, she would run.

She wouldn’t get far, but that wouldn’t stop her from trying.

As I tried to find a way to get her checked out properly that wouldn’t terrorize her further, I watched and waited.

For her to throw more attitude my way.

For her to bolt.

For her to nut-check me again.

I’d have bet on at least one of the three. More likely, all three.

And I’d have lost.

Because rather than growing more antsy with each passing minute, Mila seemed to relax. She sank into the couch, her head bobbing.

I didn’t buy it.

“Nice try, baby. No one’s letting their—” My words cut off when her head dropped back suddenly.

Shit.

I quickly yanked her onto my lap, brushing her hair away so I could see her face. She didn’t look as pale as earlier. There was no wince. No scowl.

I thought she was out cold until she whispered, “Sorry.”

“You apologize too much,” I teased, trying to distract her while my panicked gaze shot to Miles.

He lifted his chin and spun to go get the doc.

“I know. Sorry.” Her tone held no matching playfulness.

“That took longer than expected,” Dr. Pierce said as he entered the room. I thought he was talking about the call, but his focus was on Mila.

And it wasn’t filled with the same panic I felt.

He didn’t seem fazed by finding her practically unconscious. Not even a raised eyebrow.

He sat on the table in front of us and put his fingers to her throat, feeling her pulse. Then he opened Mila’s lid to flash a penlight in. “Tell me what happened.”

“Car accident,” I answered for her.

Pierce met my gaze and shook his head before returning his focus to her. “Mila, who did this to you?”

Who.

Acid churned in my gut, the implication of that one word eating at me like poison rot.

“What happened?” he continued when she didn’t answer.

Her words and body trembled when she whispered, “He happened. They happened.”

They.

More than one person did this to her.

Rage twisted in me, mixing with the poison rot until I could hardly see straight.

I could practically smell it. Taste it. Feel the lives I would snuff out.

But none of that mattered. Not right then.

Murder would come later—slow and painful and torturous.

“Who’s they?” I asked once I locked it all down tight enough to keep my voice gentle. Mila didn’t need me shouting and scaring her worse than she was.

The flinching.

All that fucking flinching.

She lifted her shoulder in a small shrug before burrowing into me. Within seconds, her breathing had evened out.

Pierce stood and started for the door. “Let’s get her to the hospital.”

I’ll be damned.

Literally, once Mila wakes up and turns those tiny fists of fury my way.