Demanded by Him (Wanted Series #3) Read Online Free Page B

Middle
East.”
    She furrowed her brow.
    “Or that’s who I would pray for if I prayed.”
    “Right.”
    “But if God is why you took your shirt off just then, I swear
I’ll pray to him every day until I die.”
    She rolled her eyes. “You can save your breath. It wasn’t God
that made me do that.”
    “What was it then? Your free will?”
    “No,” she said. “Fear of humiliation.”
    “Why would you be humiliated?”
    “Cause it’s bad enough that I look like shit, but I’m a little
worried it might be painfully obvious that we were fooling around in the forest
last night.”
    “Don’t forget the boat and the lake.”
    She let her head fall back against the headrest.
    “And you don’t look like shit.”
    She looked out the window.
    “Do you drive?” I asked.
    “Yes, of course,” she said. “Though I’m better when I’ve had
some coffee.”
    “I’m sure they’ll have plenty of coffee at the hospital,” I
said. “Though they probably won’t have whatever triple ground fair trade Mocha
with fat free foam and cherub farts that you usually drink.”
    “Actually, I prefer expresso.”
    “Let me guess,” I said. “Cause you don’t have time to drink a
whole cup?”
    “No, cause I like it.”
    I shook my head. “Sorry. I don’t mean to be testy. I’m just-”
    She reached across the seat and put her hand on my shoulder.
“It’s okay.”
    I exhaled. “Thanks.”
    “And sometimes I do get the Grande, Quad, Nonfat, One-Pump,
No-Whip, Mocha. Unless it’s really hot, and then I like to get a Venti Iced
Skinny Hazelnut Macchiato.”
    “Sorry, what was I saying?”
    “You asked if I could drive?”
    “Oh right,” I said. “I was thinking of asking you to park the
car so I can just run in.”
    “Sure. No problem,” she said. “Good idea.”
    I nodded.
    “There it is up there,” she said, pointing towards a sign up
ahead.
    “Yeah.”
    “I’m pretty sure the children’s wing is on the left once you
turn in.”
    I squinted at her. “How do you know that?”
    She shrugged. “One of my brothers had to come here once for a
broken arm.”
    I turned into the parking lot and whizzed past the front gates, ignoring
the attendant on duty.
    When I turned towards the children’s wing, I spied an empty
parking space near the entrance and pulled in.
    “I think this is a handicapped spot,” Addison said, crinkling
her nose.
    “Can you hand me the pass in the glove box?”
    She popped the compartment open and pulled out the flimsy card.
    I grabbed it, grateful she hadn’t made a joke about the box of
condoms wedged in beside it. I was feeling like a shitty enough dad as it was.
“It’s only for emergencies,” I said, feeling guilty like I always did when I
used it. “My dad gave it to me.”
    “What if a handicapped person shows up?”
    I stuck the pass under the rear view mirror and looked at her
with raised eyebrows. “Are they my daughter?”
     

Chapter 6: Addison
     
     
     
    I was so relieved I didn’t have to park the car, not just
because I wasn’t caffeinated enough to operate machinery, but because I was
distracted by the memory of the last time I came to this hospital, and it
wasn’t a happy one.
    It wasn’t just a broken arm my “brother” at the time had to come
in for. It was for bruises, too, cause he “fell out of his treehouse.” In
reality, though, his dad pushed him down the stairs when he tried to stop him
from wailing on his mom for I can’t remember what. It happened so often.
    At the hospital, the performance the couple put on, pretending
to be worried about their baby, made me sick. When we got home, I said if they
didn’t hand me over to child services, I’d tell everyone what really happened.
    Stuff like that used to get me out of a lot of homes.
    People might have the patience of saints when dealing with their
own children, but foster kids don’t get those extra few times to push people’s
buttons.
    Plus, no one ever doubted my threats because I