Hanged (Savage Men 5)

Daisy wraps her little arms tightly around Lillian’s body. It gives me goose bumps to watch the intense bond these two have. It also reminds me of what I’ve missed all these years.

When they’re done hugging, she says, “Go to the back of the house. Don’t go outside. Just wait there.”

“Why?” she asks.

“You’ll understand soon,” she says, smiling as the tears well up in her eyes again, but she swallows them away. She presses another kiss to Daisy’s cheek and pats her on her back. “Go on.”

When Daisy’s left the room, I grab Lillian’s shoulder, and say, “What are you doing?”

“Making a choice,” Lillian says, giving me a bitter smile.

Like we’re saying goodbye when we’re not supposed to.

It’s all happening so fast. I wish I could put a stop to it, but I know just as well as she does that this could never be.

Right then, sirens in the distance are heard.

They’re here.

“Quick. You gotta leave,” she says.

So quickly did she change her mind about me. Not that I’m complaining. I’m grateful that she wants to help me out, but …

“I’ll never get outside fast enough,” I say, shaking my head.

“Yes, you will. Here, take this.” She shivers as she grabs a coat off the hanger and wraps it around me, along with a scarf and a hat.

“My car is out front. No way I can get there in time before the cops get here.”

“You can take my truck,” she says.

My eyes widen, and I realize what she’s about to do. “No, Lil.”

“Yes,” she says, pushing me to the back of the house.

“You can’t do this,” I say.

“Yes, I can.” Not only has her voice changed, but her whole attitude has done a full one-eighty. “I’m not letting them take you away. Not when she finally has you again. Not when I finally know why you did it.”

She can’t stop the tears from flowing anymore, and even I am tearing up as I hold her hand and squeeze.

“Take her,” she says. “I want her to grow up safe and sound … with you.”

“But I’m a criminal—”

“I don’t care!” she says, wrapping her arms around my neck. “She needs you like I needed you.”

“She needs her mommy,” whisper into her ear.

“You know what they’ll do to her if they find me here with her. They’ll put her in a foster home. You didn’t sacrifice everything to have her go there, and you know that,” she says, looking me directly in the eyes.

“Then stay here and let me—”

“No. You’ve done enough,” she says. “It’s time I took the burden,” she says with a heavy voice. She grabs a box and pushes it into my hand. “This contains all her medicine. Make sure she takes it every day. You can get more at the pharmacy. She’s got a prescription. She visits the doctor every month. Make sure she gets checked regularly.” She swallows. “Oh, and she hates blueberry pie, but loves blueberries on pancakes.”

I smile and nod, gazing into the bag. There’s a bunch of bottles filled with pills.

It looks like there’s no point in fighting her. This is how she’s always been. Stubborn to the bone. Just like her little girl. Just like me.

“I’m doing this. Don’t think of convincing me otherwise,” she adds.

“All right.” I sigh. “You’ll be aiding and abetting a criminal. You know that, right?” I say with a dead serious face.

She nods, her stance unchanging, her voice resolute. “I’m aware.”

I hug her tight. “Thank you.”

“No. Thank you,” she says. “For finally trusting me and releasing me from the pain.”

It feels like ages before we can finally let go of each other, but the sound of the police getting closer and closer forces us to. But I refuse to release her hand. I smile at her, and it’s the toughest smile I’ve smiled in years.

“Take care of yourself,” she says.

“I will.”

“And make sure she stays innocent. I don’t want her to know,” she adds.

I nod. Understandable. “I will.”

When we finally release each other, compelled by the sirens, I move to the back of the house while she stays and watches me pick up Daisy. One final glance is all I need to know she’s a hundred percent sure of what we’re about to do.

So I open the door, and I don’t look back as I run with Daisy.

Chapter Nine

Lillian

When the police arrive, I walk out onto my porch and meet them head-on. Two vehicles pull into my driveway, turning off the sirens when they step out their vehicles. They immediately walk toward me, hands firmly on their holsters.

“I was just about to go to bed. What’s going on?” I ask, yawning.

“Ma’am, we got reports that a fugitive has been spotted at your house,” one of them says, eyeing my house.

“There’s no one here except me,” I say.

I’m not lying. There is actually no one else but me.