“I think the woman inside is overdosing,” I say, struggling to catch my breath.
He doesn’t say anything about this bit of information. His focus is solely on the child in his arms.
I can see his love plain as day. She must be his daughter.
Cole and Carson are waiting in a pickup. I slide in the back with Carson while Rage climbs up front with the little girl on his lap.
Everyone is quiet as we speed back to town. Carson pulls his phone out and orders someone to pick up Rage’s bike.
When he finishes the call, Rage turns to me. “What did you see?” he asks.
I scoot forward, looking over his shoulder at the girl. “The woman was passed out on the couch, and the dude with her has no fucking clue what’s going on. I told him I was there to babysit. He said she’d been crying for days,” I tell him, nodding toward the tiny bundle in his arms.
“Mila’s never looked this bad. She’s so thin,” he says, his voice catching.
My heart breaks for him because the little girl has obviously been neglected for some time.
He pulls out his phone. “I’ve got to call CPS.”
But when they answer, he can’t speak. I gently remove the phone from his hand and put it to my ear.
“I told you we’d go check on her tomorrow,” she says in greeting.
“Hello. Um, my name is Serenity. Chase gave me his phone so I could call you,” I tell the bitch on the line.
“Who did you say you were?” she asks, clearly confused.
“My name is Serenity. I was supposed to babysit Mila today, and when I got there, she was sick. I think her mom might be ill, too. She was sleeping on the couch, her boy …” I pause, not sure who the man on the couch was to her.
Rage nods at me.
“Her boyfriend,” I continue, “he said he couldn’t wake her up, so I found Chase at the Trough and he’s going with me to take Mila to the ER. Could you please meet us there?”
“Oh!” she squeaks. “Oh, of course. I’ll be right there.” She hangs up without another word.
I hand the phone back to him. He stares at me for a second before turning his attention back to his daughter.
“Mila,” he says, pressing his mouth to her ear. Her little eyelids flutter, and she whimpers. “I’ve got you, baby. The doctors are going to make you all better.” His hand continues to rub over her dirty hair.
I slide back into my seat, and Carson reaches over and pats my knee. “You did good,” he says quietly.
Please let her be okay. Please, God. Please.
Chapter Eight
Rage
My fingers trail over my sister’s forehead as she sleeps soundly in her hospital crib. I watch as the IV drips, rehydrating her tiny body. The bag next to it is giving her antibiotics. The doctors tell me she has an infection somewhere. The fever is a sign that she’s fighting it.
They also mentioned several other things. She’s covered in bug bites and bruises. She’s malnourished, and she has a horrible case of diaper rash. The doctor told me we’re lucky this is all that is wrong with her.
Lucky.
That’s not fucking lucky. What the fuck would he know? What’s lucky was following the strange persistent voice inside my head that told me to keep Serenity close.
It’s also lucky she’s a brat and didn’t listen to me when I told her to stay put.
The CPS lady peeks her head inside the door. “Can I talk to you?” she asks, waving me toward her.