Chapter 5 ANONYMOUS DONOR?

The city noise hummed around them—distant sirens, barking dogs, the buzz of failing streetlights.

Jax slowly dismounted. Even in the dim alley, he looked unreal standing there in black riding gear with that composed, dangerous stillness.

Laura suddenly became aware of herself too. Sweat-damp curls escaping her braids. Grease smudged here and there across her dark brown skin. Pulse still racing.

His eyes lingered on her face for a second too long. On her mouth. Then lower.

Laura crossed her arms immediately, feeling even more self aware. “What?”

“Nothing.”

She scoffed. “Whatever.”

His gaze returned to hers fully now—stormy gray eyes meeting fierce jade-green ones. Something tightened in the air. Laura held her breath. 

She had spent years around men. Men who stared. Men who wanted. Men who underestimated. But this man, Jax, looked at her rather differently.

Like he was studying something rare. Something he hadn’t expected to find… It unsettled her more than lust ever could.

Then his eyes dropped suddenly to her wrist. The bruises. Finger-shaped. From Rafe.

And immediately, his expression darkened. “What happened there?”

Laura instinctively pulled down her sleeve. “Nothing.”

“Someone grabbed you? Who?”

She pinched the inside of her palm. “Drop it.”

His jaw tightened.

For the first time since meeting him, genuine emotion cracked through the ice. 

Anger. Cold and controlled. Which somehow felt more dangerous than rage.

“Who did this to you?” he pressed still, his voice holding a subtle hint of… care?

Laura stared at him for a long moment. Then laughed bitterly.

“You ask too many questions for a stranger, rich boy.”

He stepped closer. Not enough to touch. But definitely enough to feel…

“Well, we can change that, can't we? I don't have to remain a stranger now, do I?”

For an entire minute, Laura forgot to breathe. She just stared blankly at him. Then she blinked and stirred.

Starting her ignition, she flashed him a warning glare. “Go home, rich boy. Stop following me.” And then she hit the roads again.

The next morning began with rain.

Not the dramatic kind that crashed against rooftops and flooded streets. Just a thin, steady drizzle that turned the city gray and washed the previous day's heat into the gutters.

Laura Montez stood outside St. Anne’s Medical Center with a paper cup of terrible coffee warming her palms and exhaustion sitting heavy behind her eyes.

She had slept exactly two hours.

After getting home from the races, she’d spent the rest of the night repairing through her wrecked apartment, cleaning, and then reorganizing the shop downstairs before opening at six in the morning.

Now it was barely eight-thirty. And life, as always, was demanding more.

Laura pushed through the hospital entrance, instantly swallowed by the familiar scent of antiseptic and overworked air conditioning. 

Nurses moved quickly down corridors. Phones rang at distant stations. Somewhere nearby, a child cried.

The pediatric oncology ward was quieter. Too quiet.

Laura checked in at the front desk before heading toward Sofia’s room, but a voice stopped her just as she neared the door.

“Miss Montez.”

Dr. Raman approached with a tablet tucked under one arm. His tired expression immediately put Laura on edge.

Doctors only wore that face when they were about to ruin your day gently.

“What happened?” she asked.

“Nothing critical. Sofia’s stable.”

Laura exhaled slowly. “But?” 

The doctor hesitated. “The tumor markers are responding slower than we hoped. We need to begin the next treatment cycle sooner.”

The Translation: more money was needed.

Laura rubbed her forehead. “How much?”

“$38,000.”

Laura exhaled sharply, then nodded rather automatically. “I can get it.”

The doctor’s expression softened with painful sympathy. “Laura…”

“I said I’ll get it.”

He nodded after a moment. “We’ll give you a few days.”

A few days. Just great! 

Laura nodded slowly. Everybody in her life seemed to be giving her deadlines lately.

“Alright. Thanks.” She turned to the door, drew a sharp breath and then reached for the door knob. 

Inside, Sofia was awake and sketching in a notebook balanced on her knees, looking too pale against the white hospital sheets. 

As soon as she turned and saw Laura, her face lit immediately. “You are here.”

Laura reached out to ruffle her hair before dropping on the chair beside the bed. “What are you sketching?”

“The stray cat I named Doctor Whiskers. I do see it sometimes when I look out the window.”

Laura hummed dramatically. “Doctor Whiskers, huh? Interesting name.”

For a while they talked about nonsense. Comics. Hospital food conspiracies. Until, Sofia suddenly met Laura's gaze rather sharply. 

“You raced again, didn’t you?”

Laura stiffened slightly. “What makes you say that?” 

How the hell did her younger sister even know she took part in underground racing in the first place? She had told no one about that.

Sofia shrugged. “Just a feeling, I guess.”

Laura sighed. “You’re not supposed to know about that stuff.”

Sofia passed her sister an incredulous look. “I’m sick, not stupid.” 

Fair point. Laura sighed again. 

Sofia lowered her gaze back to her notebook. “Was it dangerous?”

At her sister's question, Laura's mind immediately raced to Jax. She recalled how he had kept matching her move for move through the industrial ruins. About how his hand had steadied her bike mid-slide. About those stormy gray eyes of his watching her like she was a puzzle of some sort.

“Yes,” she finally answered.

“Did you win?”

A reluctant smile touched Laura’s mouth. “Barely but yeah.”

“That’s my sister.”

The room quieted again after that. Rain tapped softly against the windows. Laura reached over to fix Sofia’s blanket naturally.

“Hey,” Sofia spoke again suddenly.

“What?” Laura turned to her.

“That bruise on your wrist wasn’t there before.”

Laura froze. Damn!

She tugged her sleeve lower. “Nothing happened.”

Sofia gave her a look far too wise for a thirteen-year-old.

“You always say that when something happens.”

Before Laura could think of what to answer, someone knocked lightly on the open door. And then, a nurse stepped in holding a clipboard.

“Miss Montez? Billing asked me to inform you that the outstanding balance for Sofia’s medication as well as the payment for her upcoming treatment cycle, has just been cleared.”

Laura blinked. “What?”

The nurse checked the paperwork again. “Anonymous donor.”

Laura's stomach dropped immediately. “No.”

The nurse looked confused. “No?”

“I didn’t ask for charity.”

“Umm, it’s already processed.”

Laura stood abruptly. “Who paid it?”

“I’m sorry, we aren’t authorized to release donor information.”

Laura’s jaw tightened.

Anonymous. Of course.

People with money loved anonymity. It let them feel generous without ever facing the people they saved. Or controlled.

Sofia looked relieved. “That’s good though, right? Big sister?”

Laura forced a smile. “Yeah. Sure.”

But no… She didn't think it was good. Because nothing came free.

Nothing.