Page 48 of Bears Not Included

“I tried to protect little Hazel, but I can’t fight for her any longer. I’m old and tired, and you’ll take her away because my daughter took your money, and little Hazel will be hurt. Bad men—” She starts to cry again, as more tears roll down my face.

“No, that’s not going to happen. Trust me. No one is going to take your granddaughter away.”

“Mrs. Peters, we’re here to help you,” Callen says. “The men who your daughter sold Hazel to won’t come for you. Both you and Hazel are under our protection now for as long as both of you live. No one will dare touch you. You’re safe now, and we’re going to get you out of here.”

Mrs. Peters looks at me as if she’s looking for validation, and I nod. The relief I see wash over her changes her features. The gauntness in her face fills up with hope as she starts to sob again. Behind her, little Hazel starts to cry so softly that I can barely hear her.

Callen is on his phone, and I go to pick up the little girl. But even through the many layers of clothes her grandmother made her wear to keep warm—and thankfully she is—she’s so thin, I’m afraid I might break her.

Hazel wraps her tiny arms around me at once, and I try to soothe her, but my heart keeps breaking for her and her grandmother. I can’t imagine what would have happened to her. That kind of world is so far beyond anything I could imagine, and she’s so little.

Callen steers us back out of the building, and it isn’t long after that a well-dressed, kind-looking woman and two men, who look like bodyguards, emerge from an SUV that had just pulled into the front of the building.

They talk quietly to Callen before the woman comes to take Hazel from me. I hesitate, still worried for the little girl.

“Where are they going?” I ask Callen.

“To a house that will become their home. Cassie is a trained nurse and will help them set up. They’ll have everything they need.”

“I’ve already set everything up, Mr. Ursid. I’ve taken care of all the groceries, and the pantry, fridge, and freezer are full. I’ve also bought some clothes for the time being, but I’ll add more to their closets later on,” Cassie says.

“I want to go with them.” I’m determined not to have Hazel out of my sight.

“No,” Callen says, his voice stern enough that I don’t argue. “They’ll be all right, Livia.”

“They’re going to be fine, Mrs. Ursid.”

I balk at being called Mrs. Ursid; the address feels so intimate that I can’t help but blush. But I push those things aside quickly, still not convinced that the little girl and her grandmother are going to be okay.

“Little Hazel will go to school when she’s ready. I’ll be taking care of Mrs. Peters’ illnesses and helping her regain her strength. You have my word, Mrs. Ursid.” There’s an earnestness in Cassie’s voice that I trust.

“You can visit them when they’re settled in, Livia,” Callen says, and suddenly the dark weight of their well-being is lifted.

I hand the little girl over to Cassie, but she clings to me for a bit before she’s forced to let go. Callen removes his jacket and makes me slip into it; my body immediately sinks into the warmth he left behind.

“Did you know she sold her daughter before she died?”

“No.”

“You didn’t have to do this, but you did,” I say softly.

“As I said, she was a crack whore, and if she had family, I intended to compensate them. It was only when I was trying to find out who they were that I discovered what she had done to her daughter.”

“She deserved to die.” A tear rolls down my face, but I wipe it away quickly. I know it’s a terrible thing to say out loud, but I mean it. Callen saved the little girl and her grandmother. He also promised Mrs. Peters that she was under their protection now and no one would touch them. I believe him.

I’m lost in thoughts, wavering between what would have happened to Hazel and being grateful she was one child who was saved. I don’t pay much attention to where we’re going until my gaze darts toward Callen when he stops in front of a nice-looking house with a picket fence.

“Will you hold this for me?”

He removes a ring from his finger and hands it to me. The warmth of his skin lingers on the ring, and I can’t understand the dire need to slip the gold band onto my finger so I can keep his warmth the same way his jacket did. I must be going mad.

“Why?” My brows knot in confusion.

“Because I’m going to kill a man, and I don’t want to get any blood on it. My grandmother gave it to me.”

“What? Why are you going to kill a man?” Did I just say those words out loud?

“He’s an informant in our organization and he must die.”

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