Tears streaked down the woman’s face, devastation clear in her eyes. “But I’m her mother, I should be able to…”
The guy shook his head, a gentleness in his expression that hadn’t been there before.
“Sometimes we need more than determination to get a job done. No shame in admitting when you’re out of your depth,Ruth. To call in the pros who know what to do. This is one of those times. The doc here has Dr. Stringer on the line, the lady from Pieces to Peace. Calla knows her. Let them help your daughter.”
Between Ruth and Calla they were doing a number on my heart. I rubbed my chest with my free hand as Ruth glanced with tear-filled eyes at her daughter who had withdrawn to the seat furthest from the open door, knees up against her chest and her arms wrapped around them. Calla rocked as she continued to cry.
“Okay.”
I barely heard Ruth’s whispered voice as she moved toward the driver, allowing him to help her from the vehicle. She looked my way for a few moments, her gaze begging me to work a miracle while her voice stayed silent. Then the driver put an arm around her waist and walked her away.
With Ruth out of the way, I moved in, taking slow measured steps, keeping the screen up and facing Calla so if she glanced my way, she’d see Jacqui.
“Calla? It’s Dr. Stringer. Calla, can you hear me, sweetheart?”
At the sound of her voice, Calla jolted before turning her face toward me, gaze flicking over me briefly before focusing on my phone. More tears leaked down her cheeks and she kept rocking but she hadn’t resumed thrashing around. I hoped that meant she’d allow me to reach into the car without lashing out at me.
“Calla, this is Eric, a friend. He’s going to lean in to put the phone in the holder on the headrest in front of you. That’s all he’s going to do, I promise, then it’ll be just us.”
Her rocking increased and her gaze widened as she flipped between watching me and Jacqui as I reached in with my free hand and didn’t waste time as I quickly got my phone clicked into the holder. Without saying anything, I gave Calla a gentle smile before I moved back out of the car and closed the door. Iprayed enclosing them in a private little bubble was what Jacqui needed to be able to get through to Calla. The day was cooling off now, as it did in the late afternoons, and I’d rather have her inside where it was warm. Where she’d be safe from her bastard of a stepfather.
Unable to make myself move any further away, I looked through the window that framed the sweet girl in her fluffy purple sweater who’d already suffered more than any one person should. When she lifted her head, her gaze remaining focused on Jacqui, I rolled my shoulders, forcing myself to relax enough that I could get my feet to move. I told myself that if she looked up and saw me hovering, she could panic and undo any progress Jacqui was making with her.
“I don’t have all day! Don’t you have a tranq gun or something we can open the back and use on her? Can’t be the first time one of your subjects went nuts when being committed.”
Red clouded my vision for a few moments as fury blasted through me as I slowly turned to face the vile man who’d just spoken. I was very glad I’d shut the door on the women so they hadn’t heard his nasty words.
At some point during my time being held captive by Elita, an inner beast I hadn’t been aware existed started to wake and since my rescue he had roared to life. While I’d always had a deep inner need to help those around me, which had led me to study medicine and become a doctor, it was different now. I still felt that need to help and heal, but mixed in with that now was this compulsion to protect anyone in danger, any innocent who was being abused or hurt. Along with an undeniable hunger to seek justice, an animalistic and violent vengeance, on their behalf, resided within me.
Since first seeing Calla struggling in the back seat of that car, the beast had been tugging at his leash, desperate to getloose and go destroy anyone who’d ever caused that girl any harm. Now with what her stepfather had just said, I wanted nothing more than to be able to set him free. Let the beast tear Councilman Jack Bosman to shreds. But I had enough sanity left to know I couldn’t do that. He had the power to take Calla away from me—I mean away from Rawhide—and she needed to be here. Needed to be surrounded by people who would show her compassion and happily adapt to any accommodations she would require. Here she’d be able to have friends. Even without Derek’s reassurance, I knew the Littles would become protective over her as soon as they met her. She could bloom here. So I needed to rein in my violent tendencies. At least for now. I was sorely tempted to give the Charon MC men a call to ask if they ever visited Denver. But that was a decision for another day.
While I was firm on my decision to not pound this vile man into the ground, it didn’t mean I intended to let him get away with what he’d just said. Long before my inner beast woke with his need for physical violence, I’d become well-versed in how to cut with my words. I’d been known around the hospital I worked at for being an arrogant asshole. The reality check I got with Elita had changed how I treated the world as a whole, but I hadn’t forgotten how to be that man. It was just that now I saved it for those who deserved it, rather than dishing it out to everyone I met.
Storming over toward where the man still stood near Moses and Dax, I mentally planned out what I’d say to cut the deepest. Dax caught sight of me first, his eyes widening at the thunderous expression I was no doubt sporting. The moment Jack turned to see what Dax was looking at, I spoke using the tone that used to make interns tremble in fear.
“You better not have just said what I think you did.”
Jack’s face reddened instantly, anger glinting in his eyes as he glared at me. Rolling his shoulders, puffing himself up asthough he was even remotely threatening, he turned to fully face me. Scanning my gaze over him, I wanted to shake my head. Even with all the posturing he’d been doing, his suit, that fit his frame way too well to be off the rack, was immaculate. Not a single wrinkle was visible in the fancy fabric. But he wasn’t as nearly put together as he was trying to project. The giveaway was his hair. While I’m sure it had started out the day perfectly styled, it was now in complete disarray from how often he’d run his hands through it. He’d no doubt be mortified if he realized that fact and it was tempting to rub his nose in the imperfection. I knew his type all too well. Because I’d been as arrogant, as obsessed with image back in L.A., had surrounded myself with others of similar minds. Before my abduction and torture. Before I was forced to learn some humility.
“What the hell’s your problem?”
Damn, this idiot had a death wish. Every word in his slimy “I’m-better-than-everyone-here” tone grated against my nerves and made it harder to keep to the high road where I don’t just start throwing punches. With a raised eyebrow, I didn’t let him see anything other than the disdain I wanted him to see.
“My problem is you just demanded weshoota dart into someone. To tranquilize her as though she were an out-of-control wild animal, and not an innocent young lady who is clearly in distress and needs help, not cruelty.”
If I wasn’t so enraged, I’d have enjoyed the way he sputtered and tripped over his words as he struggled to come up with a response. I hadn’t believed he would be so easy to rattle. Clearly he believed the bullshit he’d been filling Calla’s head with was true and thought we’d be quick to agree with him. That we’d be happy to comply with his request.
Moses stepping to the side caught my attention, but I didn’t take my gaze off Jack as Moses began to sign.
Derek’s on his way to handle Jack.
I acknowledged his message with a small nod. The tension filling the big man was clear to see in his tense muscles and glinting eyes. He would no doubt help me tear this asshole apart if I did decide to let my beast loose. Moses hated anyone who belittled and was cruel to others. Those who inflated their own importance by diminishing those around them were instantly suspicious to him.
Clearing his throat, Jack appeared to find his footing and regain his composure.
With a frown, he ran his gaze over 004 before looking back at me. With a shake of his head, he smoothed his palms down over his suit jacket then plastered on a fake smile I was certain he used at election time.
“I assume you’re Derek Hawkins, the owner of Rawhide Ranch and its research facility? I’m Councilman Jack Bosman from Denver.”
