Little Dove Read online

  My stomach hurt from eating so fast, but it was better than it hurting from hunger or fear.

  Once I was done, he took my garbage and shoved it in the pack.

  “What time is it?” I asked.

  “Almost midnight.”

  God, I’m so stupid.

  I’d gotten lost, sunburned, injured to the point of incapacitation twice, and had been forced to kill a snake.

  And it’d only been half a day.

  What would’ve happened had he not come? Would I have survived the next day? Would I even have survived the night?

  But I wouldn’t have to find out because Maximo had come for me when he could’ve easily left me out there to die.

  Unable to choke down my gratitude, I blurted, “Thank you for looking for me.”

  “Juliet.”

  “I thought… I just… I was—”

  “Shut up.”

  “Shutting up,” I whispered before he changed his mind and left me.

  Maximo climbed behind me before the four-wheeler roared to life. A headlight lit the way, but he seemed to know where he was going, his speed eating up the distance until his house finally came into view. He stopped next to his gate and killed the engine before standing. Pulling his cell from his pocket, he touched the screen a few times. “Call them off, I have her.” I jumped when his hand landed on my head, but he just absentmindedly stroked my hair as he stared toward the house. “Yeah. Get the car, meet me on the street.”

  The car?

  Of course they’re not going to let me go back to the house.

  Of-fucking-course they’re not.

  I’d been a witness and then a prisoner. Trying to escape had shown them I was a loose end who needed to be cut before I unraveled everything. Maybe he’d rescued me just so he could make sure I died.

  The fear that’d disappeared after my rescue came back times a hundred.

  I didn’t bother arguing when he picked me up. I didn’t ask the millions of questions that swirled in my head. I didn’t voice my fears.

  Because none of it mattered.

  Lost in thought, I stayed silent as an SUV pulled out of the driveway and stopped in front of us. Handsome goon got out, his eyes on us. I waited for him to glare like the mean one, but he didn’t. If anything, he looked happy to see me. He opened the backdoor, and Maximo set me on the seat.

  When the door closed, I buckled up on instinct, numbly going through the motions.

  Rather than driving or sitting in the passenger’s seat, Maximo opened the other back door and climbed in, moving over until he was in the middle. He reached over, unbuckled my seatbelt, and pulled me into his lap.

  Maybe this will be like the old gangster movies where he throws me out of a moving car.

  How well can I tuck and roll?

  Handsome goon got in and began driving.

  “Is everything ready?” Maximo asked him.

  “All set and waiting.”

  Separating myself from the terror and pain, I stared out the window.

  There was a lot of nothing. Just as Maximo had said, that route was desert for miles and miles with no houses, buildings, boulders, or even brush around.

  As if reading my thoughts, he whispered, “Told you.”

  I nodded but couldn’t find any words.

  The farther we drove, the more my panic took hold. Rather than pointless begging, I decided to use my time to curse my bastard father. If he hadn’t lied and cheated and lied some more, none of this would’ve happened. I would be asleep in my shitty bed in my shitty home in my shitty life.

  I still wouldn’t have been safe—I never was—but I was used to that. Defending myself against assholes, drunks, and creepers was easier than taking on the elements, bugs, and snakes.

  “You okay?” Maximo asked, bringing his hand to my forehead. “You’re shivering.”

  It was with rage, but I didn’t share that. “I’m fine.”

  He met the driver’s eyes in the rearview mirror.

  The goon lifted his chin. “I could go a lot faster if you’d put her down so she can buckle up.”

  “No,” was all Maximo said, and the goon didn’t argue.

  If I were a different girl who’d lived a different life, I may have let myself believe his concern. And that concern would’ve given me hope. But I knew better.

  Hope was an empty word on the way to disappointment.

  Exhausted—mentally and physically—I wanted to rest my head, but I couldn’t. The pain made it easy to stay alert as I sat stiffly in the silent car. Staring at my hands in my lap, I sank further into myself as I used the time to build my walls against whatever was to come.

  If I was about to die, I’d go out with my pride—it was the only thing I had to my name.

  If he was about to dump me back into the shithole that was my life, I’d figure it out.

  I always did.

  After a while, the car turned and turned again. It slowed, but only when it came to a stop did I look up.

  What the hell?

  CHAPTER FIVE

  Fine, Fine, Fine

  Juliet

  A HOSPITAL.

  He wouldn’t take me to a hospital if he were going to kill me. That’d be like giving a manicure to someone before hacking off their fingers—a pointless waste of time.

  My eyes darted from the Emergency Department sign to Maximo.

  His face gave away nothing as he climbed out before readjusting me in his arms and carrying me into the packed waiting room. Rather than joining the lengthy line, he paused for a moment.

  A man pushed through double doors to our right. “Mr. Black.”

  Maximo walked over to him. “Doctor Pierce.”

  Maximo Black.

  I wonder if that’s his real name or an alias.

  The doctor gestured. “This way.”

  We followed through the double doors, down a winding hallway, and into a private room rather than a curtained stall. Maximo finally set me down on the exam table, but he stayed close.

  He must be making sure I don’t tell the doc I was kidnapped.

  I wouldn’t. For one, they clearly knew each other. Even if I told the truth, the doctor might not believe me. I’d just further piss off Maximo for nothing. I was fairly certain he wasn’t going to kill me, but I didn’t want to push my luck.

  Beyond that, if the doc did take my side, he’d call the cops. I was seventeen. I had no family. Bringing the authorities into it was a one-way ticket to foster care.

  I’d rather take my chances alone.

  “What happened?” the doc asked.

  “I had the brilliant idea to explore by myself. I got lost and tripped on a rock.” I pulled my leggings up to reveal my bruised knees.

  “Christ, dove,” Maximo bit out, horrified.

  He had every reason to be. My legs looked awful—especially my knee that was swollen, angry red, and hot to the touch.

  “After I hurt my ankle, I tried to crawl and stabbed my knee with something.”

  The doctor opened a drawer and pulled out an ugly gown. “Undress to your underwear and put this on. We’ll be right outside.”

  “I’m not leaving,” Maximo said, his gaze still locked on my battered legs.

  “Mr. Black,” the doctor said pointedly.

  Hesitantly, I touched Maximo’s arm, his eyes shooting to mine. “Please.”

  He ran his hand through his hair before nodding. “I’m coming back in.”

  The challenge in his dark eyes dared anyone to argue, but I wasn’t going to. I didn’t know why it mattered to him. I didn’t know why he was acting so nice. I did, however, know I must’ve lost my mind out there in the desert.

  Because after the day I’d had, I found a monster’s company comforting.

  They left the room, and I hurried to shed my filthy clothes. I pulled on the thin, scratchy smock and sat back on the exam table.

  The door opened a moment later and both men came in. The doctor pulled various things out of cabinets, l
ining them up on a metal tray. He put on a pair of gloves and gave me a reassuring smile. “We need to get you cleaned up for an x-ray.”

  Shit. I just want to eat and sleep—and not necessarily in that order. I’ll be here forever.

  My dad had broken his finger during a match the year before, and it’d taken hours to get x-rayed and more hours to get the results and needed splint. It’d been a different hospital, but they were all backed up at night.

  Drunken injuries were as much a Vegas mainstay as showgirls and Barry Manilow.

  All thoughts of time flew from my head as the doctor began vigorously scrubbing my leg.

  “Ow!” I cried on a startled gasp.

  “Pierce,” Maximo growled, the same warning in his tone he used with me.

  At least I’m not the only one who irritates him.

  The doctor froze, but I shook my head. “I’m fine. I just wasn’t expecting it to sting so bad.”

  “I’ll put in an order for pain meds as soon as I’m done. Are you allergic to anything?”

  I shook my head.

  When he went back to cleaning the dried dirt, I sat as still as possible, choking back tears and pleas to stop. The only movement was the rapid rise and fall of my chest.

  “Dove,” Maximo whispered soothingly, stroking the top of my head. I wanted to lean into his touch, but I couldn’t.

  Shouldn’t.

  My muscles were so tense, my bones ached, but I stayed quiet and stoic as the soap stung my wounds and the scrubbing rubbed my skin raw.

  It felt like a hundred hours later when the doctor finally sat back and surveyed my red skin. “That’s the best we’ll be able to do. I’ll get transport in here to take you to x-ray.”

  The doctor left, closing the door behind him.

  Maximo came to stand in front of me, his hands gripping the edge of the exam table as he leaned down so we were face to face.

  Avoiding his gaze, I looked to the side. There was a tattooed point that crept up his neck, but I couldn’t figure out what it was.

  “Look at me,” he ordered, making my gaze shoot from his mystery ink to his eyes. “Are you okay?”

  “I’m fine,” I said automatically.

  “Juliet.”

  “Really, I’m fine. You can go.”

  His dark eyes narrowed, and I scooted back on the table. He added a clenched jaw to his glare, but before he could speak, a woman in green scrubs pushed a wheelchair in.

  Her eyes went huge when she saw Maximo, and it took her a moment to drag her focus to me. “I’m Mia from transport, here to take you to x-ray. Ready, sweetie?”

  “Already?” I asked.

  “Doctor Pierce ordered it,” she answered with a smile, though I could see matching surprise and confusion in her expression.

  Maximo didn’t seem to share our confusion. He picked me up before I could climb down, lowering me to the wheelchair.

  “I could’ve handled the three steps,” I said.

  He didn’t respond verbally, just gave me another look. That seemed to be his go-to move when he didn’t deem something worthy of a reply.

  Mia moved to push the wheelchair, but Maximo got there first. She didn’t bother to argue—smartly saving herself from the look—and led the way through the halls, swiping her badge periodically to unlock doors and summon the transport elevator.

  Once we reached the ground floor, Mia gestured to a spot against the wall. “Park the chair over there. They’ll be right with her, so if you’d like to get a snack or coffee, now’s a good time.” Her smile changed from professional to something that made it clear he was the snack she wanted to eat. “I can show you where the cafeteria is.”

  Maximo didn’t look at her. “I’ll wait.”

  In the face of his coldness, she was right back to professional. “Okay, good luck.”

  As she walked away, Maximo asked me, “Are you in pain?”

  “No, I’m fine.”

  “You’re scowling.”

  I am?

  “I’ll have Pierce get you the pain meds now.”

  Grabbing his arm, I shook my head. “I’m fine. Honestly.”

  “You only had those sandwiches, are you hungry?”

  “Can I have a coffee?” I asked, desperate for the bitter goodness and the needed caffeine jolt after such a rough day.

  “A small one.”

  I’d suck on a used coffee filter right now, so anything is good.

  “Sugar and cream?” At my nod, he said, “I’ll be back.”

  After a quick yet uncomfortably positioned x-ray, I got into the hall to find Maximo waiting with a small coffee cup in his hand. I grabbed for it as soon as it was within reach, but he pulled it away. When I went for it again, Maximo lifted it near his head. Since he was over a foot taller than me and I was sitting, it might as well have been on the moon.

  “Please,” I tried because I was willing to beg.

  He kept hold of it for a long moment before finally handing it over.

  I grinned as the bitter scent filled my nose. “Oh yeah, that’s the good stuff.”

  The same transport woman came over, using the condescending voice and name again. “Ready, sweetie?”

  Yes, bitch.

  “Yup, hun.” I may not have said what I wanted to, but I also wasn’t able to completely bite my tongue.

  Mia gave a tight smile before staring ahead of her.

  Shit, I know better than to be petty.

  I glanced up at Maximo, hoping he wasn’t pissed or embarrassed, but a barely-there smirk curved his lips. He met my eyes and winked before looking ahead.

  For a monster, that was hot.

  Wait, what?

  Shut up, self. You’re delirious.

  When we returned to the room, Dr. Pierce and a nurse were already waiting. Maximo lifted me onto the table, and the nurse took my coffee, setting it on the counter before handing me a little paper cup of pills and a cup of water. “For the pain.”

  “Thanks.” I gratefully swallowed the pills and chugged the water. If I couldn’t have my scalding coffee, the cold, refreshing water was the next best thing.

  The nurse opened a packet and a sterile swab, dipping the swab into the goo before passing it to the doc. He rubbed it across a nasty gash on my shin.

  “Shit,” I hissed. The burn didn’t dissipate—it grew and grew. It spread across my skin like lava. The heat was so bad, I expected to see my skin bubbling or melting away.

  Tears welled, and I reached out to clutch something so I wouldn’t punch the doctor.

  I didn’t even realize I’d grabbed Maximo’s forearm until he pried my fingers away before my nails gauged chunks out of his tattoos. I was in too much pain to feel embarrassed or apologize, but I did release my death grip. Before I could pull my hand out of his, he adjusted his hold. His tattooed fingers wove through mine, giving me a reassuring squeeze.

  And I squeezed the hell out of his.

  I was beginning to worry I’d pass out when the doc finally leaned back.

  I survived. We’re done.

  “You’ve got a few bad cuts on your back,” he said, bursting my bubble.

  Stupid crop top.

  If my shins hurt, the thin, sensitive skin of my back killed. I’d have cried out, but I didn’t have any air in my lungs to force out.

  Thankfully, the torture only lasted a minute before Dr. Pierce moved away.

  “Are we done?” Looking up at Maximo as tears trailed down my cheeks, I asked him, “Can I go home now?”

  But Maximo didn’t have time to answer before movement stole my attention.

  My chest tightened as I watched Dr. Pierce lift a pair of giant tweezers off the tray. “I need to check your knee.”

  My hand shot out to grab Maximo’s, my entire body tense as I watched the doctor adjust a light so it was shining on me. The tweezers touched the angry wound, and my shoulders slumped in relief.

  This isn’t too bad. Definitely not as bad as the ointment.

  But then
he began moving them. I was positive half the sharp tweezers were through my leg. Stabbing. Gauging. Digging.

  My eyes darted down to reassure myself he wasn’t actually peeling muscle from bone, but at the sight of the open flesh—my open flesh—my head swam and spots floated across my tunneled vision.

  I’d grown up in boxing gyms all across the country. I’d seen torn brows, cheeks, and lips. I’d even patched them up.

  But it never got easier to see.

  I must’ve looked as nauseous as I felt because Maximo put his hand on the back of my head and pushed my face into his side so I couldn’t see anything.

  It was a million years—or maybe a few minutes—until the pain finally eased.

  Pushing against Maximo’s tight hold, I watched as Doctor Pierce held up the tweezers. A jagged chunk of wood was pinched at the end.

  “That was in my leg?” I wheezed, growing lightheaded again.

  Something beeped, but my horrified gaze was locked on the wood.

  “Perfect timing, your x-ray results are in.” Dr. Pierce typed something into a computer attached to the wall. A medical file loaded, and my eyes landed on my name on the top of the screen.

  Dove Black.

  Ha. Maybe now that I’m on my own, I’ll change my name.

  Be someone other than a worthless McMillon.

  With another few clicks, fuzzy black and white images popped up. I studied them as though I had any clue what I was looking at.

  “Good news,” the doctor said, solving the mystery for me. “You’ve got a grade two sprain, but no break. Your knees are fine, though.”

  “What do I need to do for the ankle?” I asked, knowing too much about wrapping injuries.

  “We’ll get you a brace. Stay off it as much as possible for the next two weeks, at least.” He clicked a few buttons. “I’ll print out discharge paperwork with more instructions, things to watch out for, and the name of a lotion for your burns.”

  “Thank you,” I said sincerely. Even though he’d caused me insane pain, it would’ve been a million times worse had I left the cuts untreated.

  Especially the tree trunk in my knee.

  The doctor shook my hand before shaking Maximo’s. “I trust you’ll be purchasing a table at the hospital’s fundraiser next month.”

  “I always do,” Maximo said, not bothered by the thinly veiled extortion.