“As far as we know. She’s not said anything beyond giving her name and information about how to contact Saint. He’s on his way, but he’s a few hours out. Saint already let them know you guys are coming. She’s up on the fourth floor. They’re waiting for some kind of specialist to see her, but I don’t know anything else man, just hurry up.”
“On it. I’ll call you when I have something more to give you.”
“Good, and keep Saint posted. He is gonna lose his shit.” He disconnects as I make my way back to my bike, where the guys are still waiting for me.
“They’ve found her. She's at Havenview. Let's go.” I climb aboard my bike and lead the way.
I came to this hospital years ago when I was just a kid. I’d been with my dad at a bike rally. A couple of other kids and I had been fucking around when I slipped off a wall and broke my arm. Memories of my father push for supremacy, reminding me of the man he was before he turned into someone I didn’t recognize in the end. I’m still pissed at him, even now he’s gone. I can’t find it in myself to forgive the bastard for the role he played in my mother's death at the hands of the Chaos Demons.
The very club my little sister is now the queen bee of.
When did everything get so fucked up?
I see the sign for the hospital up ahead and turn, following the traffic around the bend until we end up at the far end of the parking lot. It's busy here today, so I don't bother trying to find a spot closer, parking right where I am with the guys following suit.
We jog to the main entrance and give Ava’s details to a harried-looking nurse in reception, heading up to the fourth floor when directed.
Hurrying out of the elevator, we make a beeline for the nurse's station.
“Can I help you?” A tall, pasty looking dude in blue scrubs asks from behind the counter.
“We’re looking for Ava King. She was brought in earlier.”
“Sorry, only family is permitted, but if you would like to wait for the police to arrive, I’m sure they have a bunch of questions for you,” he tells us in a condescending tone that makes me want to rip out his tongue and shove it down his throat.
“We are family, dickhead. I’m her fiancé, and these are her brothers. Her other brother will be here soon,” I tack on, remembering at the last second that Saint is also on his way.
He eyes us warily before turning to the nurse sitting in the chair beside him. She shrugs and nods, leaving him little choice.
“She’s in room 408 at the end of the hall,” he answers reluctantly.
I tap the counter in thanks, which is better than tapping him in the face with my fist like I really want to, but I can’t risk getting thrown out of here. Not now we’ve finally found her.
“Don’t get her worked up. I’m waiting on someone from Psych to come down and do an evaluation. She’ll likely need to be admitted to the mental health ward until they can determine if she’s a danger to herself still and to offer her any additional help she might need.”
I have no idea what he’s talking about, and the fact he’s discussing her private business out in the open like this grates on me.
“Hey!” Lucky barks at him, clearly as pissed as me. “You mind not talking about her private life where anyone can hear you?”
The guy flushes but doesn’t apologize, making me wonder if he has an issue with Ava or if he has a problem with us—more specifically, our cuts.
Done with this asshole, I ignore him and head down to room 408, anticipation warring with trepidation over what I might find.
I knock lightly as a courtesy, then push the door open and pause in the threshold when I see the tiny woman on the bed with her back to us. She doesn’t turn at our entry, nor when Rebel closes the door behind us, so I assume she’s asleep, but when I walk quietly around the bed, her eyes are open and blankly staring out the window.
“Ava,” I say her name softly and still nothing, so I move closer to the bed and sit in the chair beside her, taking in her too-small frame and gaunt face. Her hair is a tangled mass of black curls that looks like it hasn’t been washed in weeks, her bottle-green eyes seem lifeless, with large, dark circles underneath them, and her skin looks startlingly pale next to my tan hand as I slowly lift it and place it gently on her arm.
That's when I spot the bandage at her wrist, both wrists actually.
“Ava, my name is Diesel. The big guy over there with the tattoos is Lucky, and the ugly fucker next to him is Rebel. Your brother Saint sent us to find you. We've been looking for you for a really long time,” I tell her in a soft voice.
Ever so slowly, her eyes lift to mine and the haunted look in them makes me want to wrap her tightly in my arms because not only is this girl fucking stunning, but she looks like she is hanging on by a thread.
“I don’t want to see him,” she whispers, her voice cracking, sounding rough and raspy as if she hasn’t used it for a while.
“Saint? Oh, Ava, he’s been worried sick about you. He’s already on his way here. He just wants to see for himself that you're okay,” I tell her as Lucky moves toward her on the opposite side of the bed.
“No, I don't want him here. Tell him to go home,” she chokes out, growing agitated.
“Ava, honey—”
“No, don’t you get it. I don't want him to see me like this. He’ll see how dirty I am, and he’s all I have left. If he sees the dirt, he might change his mind about me, but I can’t get clean,” she babbles, cracking my heart.
“Hey, it's okay. We can get a nurse in here to help give you a shower. You’ll feel better then,” I soothe, resisting the urge to reach out to her.
“I’m dirty inside now, tainted and soiled. I can’t get clean anymore. Every part of me is stained,” she whispers as a tear runs down her face and drips onto the pillow below her.
“No, fuck no. You aren’t dirty, sweetheart, I promise you. You’re a little bumped and bruised, but diamonds always need polishing a little to reveal the beauty underneath,” I tell her in earnest.
The tears run faster now, so I give in to temptation and lean forward, wiping her cheeks with the pads of my thumbs, the streaks of black smearing across her face.
Leaning down farther, I rest my forehead against hers and whisper words of comfort, ignoring the acrid smell coming from her.
I move to step back, but she grabs my cut.
“I need to get clean. Can...can you help me?” she begs, her soft words making a ferocious need to protect her swell inside me
“Anything. You tell me what you need, Ava, and it's yours,” I promise her.
“I want a shower. They told me that I needed to wait, but I really need a shower now, please,” she implores, and I can see how much it costs her to ask.
“Let me grab the nurse.” I try to move back, but her grip on me tightens.
“No, I can’t.” She blows out a shaky breath before continuing, “I can’t bear the way she looks at me. Her pity is worse than the dirt. I just...can you help me?” She looks up at me, her pretty green eyes glassy with tears, making it impossible for me to say no.
“You got it. Let me get a nurse to remove your IV, and we’ll get you fixed up.” I look up at Rebel by the door and nod before looking back down at the girl I’ve spent the last year searching for.