I do my best to secure the sheet around her and pick her up. She’s light. Too light. Guilt squeezes my chest.
I follow Jonah and Caleb away from the bedrooms and toward the sound of a fight. Blake’s in a face-to-face with a group of half-dressed, newly-woken bikers. They’re blocking the door. I’ve gotten her this far; it’ll take a damn army to keep me from leaving without her.
“We’ll take these guys.” Jonah motions toward the front door. “When you see your out, take it. Do not hesitate. We’ll meet you at the truck.”
I nod and kiss Gia’s head, hoping she knows she’s safe. I hate that she’s been living with these guys—the smell of liquor, BO, and cigarettes in every room—knowing I drove her to this.
I inch my way toward the door, and Jonah and the guys do their best to herd the half-dozen angry bikers to the other side of the room. I watch and wait, aware that the clock is ticking.
How long has she been like this? Even with medical attention, will she ever come out of it?
I nuzzle my nose into her hair. “Gia, if you can hear me, I’m never letting you go. Fight for me, baby. You hang on and you fight.”
A moan rumbles in her chest, so faint I feel it more than hear it.
“There it is, Gia. That’s right. Keep fighting, never stop swinging.”
The room detonates in a flurry of fists and grunts. A handful of bikers go fist to face with Blake, Jonah, and Caleb.
The door—a few long strides and I’m there. I look back. Two bikers hit the ground, and Jonah hits one more who drops hard.
They don’t need me. We’re out the door and to the SUV. I open the back and climb in with Gia.
In the light of day she’s worse off than I thought. Her lips are cracked and blue, the soft skin around her eyes now dark.
“Come on, come on, come on.” They need to speed this shit up. “Any minute now, hang in there, baby.”
The front door flies open, and the guys slow-jog to the car. We did it. We got her.
And now the hard part begins.
Twenty-five
Love is worth killing for.
Love is worth dying for.
And they think I’m crazy.
--Mac, Age 21
Rex
GPS on the rental guides us to the closest hospital. I’m grateful we don’t have to make the two-hour trek down to Denver. She’d probably die in my arms before we got there. I hug Gia’s frail body closer.
“St. Vincent Hospital.” Jonah pulls the SUV right up to the double doors marked “Emergency” in neon.
The tires screech to a halt, and Caleb pops open the door and hops out.
I arrange her sheet as best I can and carry her through the doors. “We need a doctor. Now.”
The middle-aged nurse at the desk pushes an intercom button. “Triage nurse to emergency, stat.” She rushes around the desk to a wheelchair. “Set her here. I’ll bring her back.
My hold on her tightens. “No. I go where she goes.” They’ll have to rip her from my arms if they think I’m ever letting her go.
“Sir.” The woman’s voice is stern. “We can’t help her unless you let her go.”
“I’ll take her back myself.”
“I’d advise you—”
“Advise all you want; he ain’t letting her go,” Caleb says from behind me.
She huffs and turns down the corridor. “Come on.”
I follow her to a single hospital bed that’s surrounded by sliding draped separators. There are other beds that from what I can tell at quick glance are empty. Good. More attention for her.
“Go ahead and lay her there.” She moves around the tiny space, grabbing medical shit.
I lay her on the bed, and my mind goes back to what Jonah said about Sadie. He wears her so even when she’s sleeping she can hear a heartbeat, feel the heat of her parents, and know that she’s safe. I sit on the bed and lie back, making sure to keep her cheek pressed against my chest. My heart is racing, thumping so hard that even blacked-out I know she can hear it. Feel it.
Two nurses rush in with a rolling table. They ignore me and go to work on Gia’s vitals.
“What happened tonight?” the nurse from the front desk asks.
“Drug overdose, I think, but I’m not sure. I found her like this about an hour ago.”
“Her name?”
I swallow hard. “Georgia McIntyre.”
“Date of birth?”
I shake my head. “I don’t know.”
“Age?”
“Twenty-two, maybe twenty-three.” She could’ve had a birthday while she was living with Hatch in that shithole. I kiss her head. Will she ever forgive me?
“BP’s low.” The nurse inspects her hand. “Cyanosis. We need to intubate.” She rips open a sterile pack. “Sir, you can stay close, but if we don’t start breathing for her she could die.”
I kiss her head and roll her from my arms. She flops to her back, her bare breasts exposed. My chest cramps at how pale she looks. I cover her nakedness, and tears blur my vision.
They feed the tube down her throat. “We need blood work, stat.” The other nurse pulls out a vial and needles, and I shift so that they can get better access to her arm.