Page 13 of Jay Bird

Riley had stopped only a few feet away, but the shock that had been written all over her face a moment ago had already shifted into something deeper—something that looked dangerously close to heartbreak.

“Willow...”

Hearing her name again nearly undid her.

For three weeks, Willow had been moving because stopping wasn’t an option. She had been a mother first and everything else second, because Lily needed food, shelter, clean clothes, safety, and reassurance that Mommy knew exactly what she was doing, even when Mommy didn’t have a damn clue.

She hadn’t allowed herself to cry or think too far ahead, and she certainly hadn’t let herself admit just how terrified she really was—but Riley knew.

Riley was the first person Willow had seen in three years who truly understood where she had come from, what she had survived, and exactly who she was still running from.

Tears welled in Willow’s eyes before she could stop them, and no matter how hard she blinked, she couldn’t hold them back as they slipped down her cheeks.

Riley took one careful step closer, and Willow didn’t back away this time.

“It’s really you,” Riley whispered.

Willow tried to answer, but her throat closed.

Riley’s gaze moved over her, taking in the backpack, the duffle bag, the worn clothes, Lily clinging to her neck, and probably the exhaustion Willow knew was written all over her face.

“You got out.”

Willow nodded. “I did.”

Riley covered her mouth for a second, her own eyes filling with tears.

Behind her, the others stayed where they were, not a single one moving closer, and Willow found herself quietly grateful for that in a way she couldn’t have properly explained even if she tried.

She glanced toward the big man again, half-expecting him to have shifted closer or changed his stance, but he hadn’t moved at all.

Something about that made her pause. He could have come closer, could have taken control of the situation, but instead he seemed to understand she was scared and stayed back, giving her the space she needed.

Willow looked back at Riley. “I didn’t know where else to go.”

“You came to the right place,” Riley told her.

Willow desperately wanted that to be true.

She shifted Lily higher against her aching arm and looked again at the people gathered behind Riley. Several men were among them, but none looked threatening.

But the man she couldn’t take her eyes off of was the one beside Riley. He was unlike several of the others. He wasn’t openly staring at her or trying to move closer. His attention seemed to take in everything at once. He watched the street, the people around them, and the cars passing nearby.

Then his gaze briefly met hers, and Willow immediately looked away. Her gaze dropped as a reflex she couldn’t seem to break. She wasn’t ready for any man to look at her too closely.

“Willow,” Riley said gently.

Willow forced herself to focus on her. “I escaped,” she whispered, her voice so hoarse she barely recognized it.

Riley nodded as tears slipped down her cheeks.

Willow’s arms tightened around Lily. She’d gotten Lily here, and that alone felt like a miracle she was still afraid to question. That was what mattered most—keeping her safe, keeping her breathing, keeping her out of Chen’s reach. But even as relief flickered through her, Willow knew the truth settling heavy in her chest. She couldn’t do the rest alone.

Willow looked desperately at Riley as the last of her strength finally began to give out.

“But I need help,” she said as the edges of her vision started to blur, and the voices around her faded as the sidewalk seemed to drop away beneath her. Then everything went black.

Jay Bird wasn’t entirely sure how the hell he had gone from standing inside Nova’s new kickboxing gym celebrating her grand opening to sitting on the pavement with an unconscious woman cradled against him and a terrified little girl named Lily clinging to the front of his shirt like a damn koala.