Page 19 of Keeping Denver

"Who the hell is Denver?" the guy mumbles, and I watch cigarette ashes fall down the front of his shirt.

"The young woman who lives here, " I growl, taking a step forward, ready to beat the stranger's face in.

"Look, asshole. There ain't no Denver living here."

I take a step further into the man's face. "You sure?"

The man cranes his head to look at me. "I'd know if I had some bitch named Denver living here." The second the word 'bitch' leaves the guy's mouth, I lunge. Mitch stops me.

"He's not worth it, boss."

"You'd better listen to your buddy, pretty boy. Ain't no piece of ass worth you getting your ass handed to you," the fucker smirks. My fist makes direct contact with his nose, crunching against my knuckles. His sorry ass teeters on his heels, the smug smile wiped from his face, as I watch his body slump to the floor.

"Let's get out of here, boss. Before someone calls the law." I let Mitch pull me away. As soon as we're inside the car, he peers in the rearview mirror. "We'll find her."

We drive around for hours, searching for any signs of Denver. The weather has taken a turn for the worse, and snow is falling heavily. Where the hell did she go? Furthermore, I don't understand why she would falsify her contact information. I start to worry she's in some kind of trouble. An ex maybe? Would she be hiding from a man? Perhaps she's been in trouble with the law? I know every scenario running through my head aren't good ones, but they are the only thoughts that come to mind. Keeping my eyes trained out the window, I keep searching, hoping we will find a clue to her whereabouts.

Two men exiting an alleyway catch my attention, and I follow them for a moment. Something reflective catches the streetlight on the object one of the men is carrying in his hand. It causes me to look closer. Wait a minute. I recognize the heart-shaped keychain attached to the bag. "Stop the fucking car," I shout, throwing the door open. "Hey," I yell at the men ahead of me as I barrel through the slush and snow toward them. "Hey, you!" The man with the bag in his hand takes off running, and I give chase. I tackle the other man to the ground, as the one I was after disappears around the corner.

"What the fuck, man. Get the hell off of me."

"Where the fuck did your buddy get that backpack?" Gripping his jacket, I give him a shake.

"Screw you," he spews. I hear Mitch roll the car up beside me, and the door opens.

"Need me to call the police?" Mitch asks.

"No, no, no." The man in my grasp squirms. "No cops."

I look down at him. "Where did your friend get the bag?" I ask him one final time.

"We took it off some redheaded homeless bitch in the alley over there," he points, and I follow where he directs us. Denver? Letting him go, I get to my feet. Wasting no more of my time on the piece of shit, I sprint down the sidewalk, cutting into the alley. Straining my eyes to see in the dark, I finally spot an outline of what looks like a person, huddled between a dumpster and the building wall. As I approach, I make out her long red hair.

"Shit." My heart catches in my throat.

DENVER

Suddenly, I hear tires screeching and the thud, thud, thud of shoes hitting pavement until the sound of heavy breathing hovers directly above my cold body, followed by a string of curse words. "Fucking motherfucker."

I know that voice.

Next, a pair of strong hands reach beneath me, and lift my body from the ground. I find warmth as my cheek rests against something soft yet hard. I recognize that smell too. And when my cold nose nuzzles against a warm neck, I inhale. I get lost in the familiar scent and my nerves instantly calm, feeling safe.

"Is she alright, Mr. Hawk? You want to take her to the hospital?"

"No. Take us home, Mitch. Call Dr. Morgan. Tell him to meet us at my Penthouse."

At the slam of a car door, I tip my head back and open my eyes to see an intense pair of green eyes staring back at me. "Callan." His name manages to slip past my lips as I fight to stay awake.

"I've got you, baby."

Those are the last words I hear spoken before I'm thrust into a dreaded pool darkness.

9

I wake feeling warm. Warm and nuzzled in the softest blanket known to mankind. I moan as I bury my face deeper into the pillow, taking in its fresh, clean scent. It takes a few seconds for my senses to come rushing back. This blanket is too soft. The ones at the shelter have never felt this good. Awareness dawns on me, my body stiffens, and I bolt upright, causing the blanket to pool around my waist. I gasp when I realize my bare breasts are exposed, and quickly yank the blanket up, covering myself. My eyes take in my unfamiliar surroundings. The bedroom I am currently in is enormous. To my right are floor to ceiling windows. The only thing visible through it is the moon as it shines through the room, illuminating the grey walls in a soft glow.

Scanning the rest of the bedroom, movement out of the corner of my eye has my head turning in that direction. A scream escapes my mouth at the shadowy figure sitting in a chair in the far corner of the room. I clutch my chest, drawing in a deep breath, but soon realize it's Mr. Hawk.