Avery realized her fists were balled tightly against her sides. She’d been holding her body so taut against the threat of pain that it ached to move even a little. “He didn’t . . .” She paused, licked her lips. “He cut me. He didn’t rape me.”
She swallowed.
“You were still violated, Avery. You have every right to be angry at what he did to you.”
Her body eased as Drea gave her that permission for the anger that had built to an unbearable level. It was as if the cork had been pulled from the bottle, simultaneously making the anger a living, breathing monster, but easing the intensity at the same time.
It was a livable, focused anger. She could do something with that. And the first thing she would do was get through the next several hours.
Drea gloved up and asked, “Can I take this?” pointing to the blanket wrapped around her.
Avery nodded, still not trusting her voice, and watched as Drea carefully replaced the bloody blanket with clean sheeting and disposable chucks. The sheet went over Avery lightly; the chucks were slid with care and precision under her so the bed wouldn’t get soiled from the Betadine.
Gunner called this battlefield medicine. Drea appeared to have experience with it, judging by how efficient she was. Avery let that soothe her—she was in good hands.
It also made her wonder why Drea had this kind of experience. “Where . . . do you work?”
“The clinic, right across the street,” Drea answered, her expression softened. “Your friend asked me to come help you.”
Asked. Avery could just imagine how Jem had asked but let the subject drop for now. She’d only be prolonging the inevitable.
Drea laid her instruments on the night table she’d covered and pulled the chair Jem had gotten for her right up to the bed. Avery shifted so she was closer and winced even as Drea put her hands out to stop her.
“Avery, you’ve got to let me help you. That’s what I’m here for. You can cut the tough act, at least in front of me. You’ve got nothing left to prove.”
Drea’s voice was warm and understanding but also made Avery nod and agree that she wouldn’t move again until Drea helped her. “Thanks, Drea. I’m so sorry about all of this. I don’t know how Jem asked you to come here, but knowing him . . .”
She trailed off and Drea gave the ghost of a smile. “It’s not the first time I’ve been recruited. But you need to tell me if the men in this room hurt you.”
“No, they rescued me. Jem and Gunner, they’re my friends. Don’t want Gunner to see me like this. Both of them feel guilty enough already.”
Drea leaned in. “Are you sure? I can call the police. I will get you out of here if you need that. I’ll make sure you’re safe.”
There was something in Drea’s voice that made Avery want to hold the doctor’s hand. “I’m positive. They’re good men.” She heard the catch in her own voice and stared up at the ceiling, blinking. She would not give the fucker who did this to her any more of her tears.
“And whoever did this to you isn’t,” Drea said firmly. “Do you want me to do a rape kit?”
“That’s not necessary. Besides, a court of law’s not going to be the one who convicts the man who did this.” Avery heard the vengeance in her own voice and after a brief pause, Drea nodded approvingly.
After a moment, Drea held up a needle and Avery almost fell out of bed trying to get away from it.
“It’s okay, Avery. Please, breathe. I’m putting the needle down,” Drea told her. “I don’t want to hurt you any more than you’ve been.”
“It’s okay. I didn’t feel anything when he did it. That was . . . horrible.” She stared at Drea as if willing her to understand. “I need to know it really happened. If I don’t deal with it now, it’s going to come back and bite me. I need to feel the pain.”
“Oh honey,” Drea said sadly. “It’s my job to stop the pain.”
“Only if you can erase it forever. Really, I can take it.”
“If I can’t get you stitched up properly, I’m not going to have a choice,” Drea warned her, but went ahead with what she needed to do.
It hurt. Burned. Avery stared at the ceiling and thought about all the ways she would make Landon pay, for everything. By the time Drea was done, at least an hour had passed and tears had streamed down Avery’s face.
Except for murmuring, “You okay?” several times during the procedure, Drea was completely focused. She covered the stitches loosely with a dressing.
“There will be some seepage for the next forty-eight hours, which is normal,” Drea explained. “I’ve started you on an antibiotic already. A strong one. I’d like to clean you up, get you dressed.”
“I don’t . . . have clothes,” she murmured, not answering to what Drea was saying.
“I’ve got some scrubs in my bag I can give you,” Drea continued. “They’ll be comfortable.”
“Thank you. I’m sure this wasn’t how you expected to spend your evening.”
“I’ve learned to take life as it comes.” Drea took more things out of her bag. “I’m going to clean you up and make sure I’m not missing anything.”
“Please. I want to wash him off me,” Avery said, teeth gritted. Drea nodded, got up and went to the bathroom. She came back with a basin full of warm water, washcloths and gloves.
She cleaned Avery up gently, but even that hurt. Avery clenched her teeth and bore it. Drea looked up at Avery, nodding, realizing that Avery hadn’t been lying about not being raped. But Avery was still grateful to have as much of the experience wiped off her as possible.
Drea looked over the other bandages after dressing her in the scrubs. “I went slowly with the stitching because I was trying to minimize the scarring. After it heals, I’m betting a plastic surgeon could work miracles.”
“Thanks, Drea.”
“I’m going to talk to your friends about getting you some food. Can I put a mild painkiller in your IV? You won’t be numb. I won’t snow you.”
“Yeah, that would be good,” Avery said. She needed sleep. Needed all her strength to get through this. “Food, maybe later.”
“Definitely sooner than later,” Drea advised. “You did great. I’ll send Gunner in now. I’m surprised he’s stayed out this long.”
• • •
Through the curtain, Gunner watched Drea’s fingers flying over Avery’s skin. Jem set it up so he could easily see both their outlines, and although it wasn’t close enough, it was better than nothing.
Avery was holding back her whimpers. She’d refused pain meds.
“Dude, you gotta unclench,” Jem said quietly, passed him a cigarette.
Gunner lit it and inhaled the smoke deep into his lungs, blew it out toward the open window, because he couldn’t do anything else. “I want to kill him. If he was here in front of me . . .”
“I know. But going off half-cocked isn’t going to help the plan.”
“What is the plan? I still can’t believe Landon would pull this shit. It doesn’t make sense. Hurting women’s never been Landon’s style.” He had to think about it rationally, or else he’d start smashing everything in the room.
“But these women are standing between him and you,” Jem reminded him. “Makes sense in a very fucked-up way.”
“Landon’s all about seduction, no matter the form it takes,” Gunner told him. Jem had been an undercover operative for years, had been in situations where he’d had to do things for the job that weren’t to his personal bent. “When he got angry last time, he took it out on me. But he’s still denying that. Why?”
Jem raised his brows but didn’t say a word as Gunner continued. “I never believed he killed Josie. Call me a fucking idiot but—”
“Fucking idiot. What? You said to,” Jem pointed out. “What about the brother?”
Gunner stilled. “Donal?”
“Yeah. I found his name in the folder that Mike and Andy had. What’s he like?”
“The only thing I remember is seeing him walk away toward the plane. Landon had him leave when I got there. Don’t know why, never asked. At the time, I wished I was going with him. Maybe Landon was hiding something?”
“Everyone’s got something to hide. Something they’re ashamed of.”
“Even you?”
Jem gave a short laugh. “Brother, my shit’s on the table for everyone to see. I’ve got a crazy family tree, dressed with a dose of mean as shit, addiction sprinkled in for good measure. That’s the great thing about being nuts. You scare people just by being you.”
On the surface, Jem appeared to be a fun-loving good old boy without a care in the world, one who talked a good game about being crazy.
Guy was fucking nuts. Gunner had seen him take point on missions. He was a wild man, took chances no sane person would ever take—or want to. That was the true sense of crazy, that it would live right next to you and you’d never know it.
Crazy always had the element of surprise.
“You think Donal sees me as some kind of rival?”
“As good a theory as any,” Jem said.
“Mike’s been able to track him down?”
“Never. He only knew about him because he talked to someone who knew Landon’s father. Then he pulled the birth certificate.”
“I know as well as anyone what happens when a guy disappears.”
“If anyone can find him, it’s someone who knows how to bury himself. Between you and Mike . . .”
Gunner shook his head.
“Gotta face them at some point.” Jem’s voice softened. “They helped you. They don’t fucking blame you.”
“Wouldn’t you?”
“Fuck, Gunner, I don’t even blame my parents and they were the biggest jackasses on the planet. But yeah, I’m sure they thought about blaming you. I’m guessing they’re over it, since they’re the ones who helped us get you back. They’ve always known where you were.” Jem shook his head as Drea poked her head out from behind the curtain.
“Is it okay?” she asked, motioning to where they sat.
“Please, yes.” Gunner stood, waited for her to move closer. “How bad is it?”
“If it doesn’t infect, she’ll be okay in two weeks. Not great, but okay. She can’t do anything for herself until the cuts start to close—give it three days at the least. They were deep enough to scar, but whoever did this knew exactly where and how to cut to create maximum scarring and blood loss without hitting any internal organs or arteries.”
Gunner could only nod, his fists tightening with anger.
“She’ll be all right, but she’s in a lot of pain.”
“I heard the whole thing when it happened. I couldn’t get to her, but I had to be with her.”
Drea blanched. “I’m sorry. But she’s strong. Even so, she’ll need to talk to someone about the attack. And I mean someone besides you.”
“I hear you, Doc.”
“She needs to eat. I’ve got an IV running, but the sooner you can get food into her, the better,” Drea told him. Jem handed him the bag he’d grabbed from the diner. Pure comfort foods, and Gunner took it and left the two of them alone to sort the rest of the shit out.
He got why it might be easier to let a total stranger help her. She was more worried about his welfare than hers, and that made him want to strangle Landon in the middle of the police station and make sure it was televised.
He’d already allowed the man to lie to him about fucking with the people he’d loved.
You believed a criminal and you’re surprised that he lied to you.
“I’ll get him, Avery. If it’s the last thing I do,” he told her sleeping form quietly as he sat on the chair next to the bed.
She looked so small lying under the covers, but she wasn’t as pale as she’d been. Her bare shoulder poked out from under the sheet and he drew the covers up over it. She shifted, her eyes still closed, her hand reaching out to find his. When he took her palm in his, she tugged, wanted him next to her. He moved the covers so they’d stay between them but not pull on her bandages, and he crawled in next to her.
Chapter Eighteen
Drea had loosened her hair. It hung halfway down her back in tawny waves. Her eyes were lazy, amber, lioness eyes. She moved like one too, an easy predatory lurk that he liked to watch, and if it had been any other situation but this, Jem would’ve already hit on her.
Correction, he’d have already been sleeping with her.
“You’re going to have to stay,” he said when she started to grab her jacket. His chair was already halfway blocking the door, and his weapon was held loosely in his lap, not for her so much as anyone who tried coming in. But the effect wasn’t lost on her.
She dropped the jacket back onto the chair and her bag to the floor.
“Don’t be like that, Drea. I got you some food.”
“Oh, food in exchange for being kidnapped. Awesome. And my friends call me Drea. You can call me Andrea,” she told him.
“Guess you told me.”
“What do you expect?”
He shrugged. “I’d expect you’d want to stay with your patient and make sure she’s okay.”
“I could be across the street working on other patients and come back here in two minutes if there’s a problem.”
“You could also call the police, and I can’t chance that.”
“I thought you said you were one of the good guys.”
“We’re often misunderstood. Sometimes it’s hard to tell us apart from the bad guys.” He shrugged. “Besides, you checked out for the night, remember?”
“Give the man points for being attentive.” She sat and accepted the food and coffee he put in front of her. After a couple of bites of the turkey club, a few fries and some caffeine, she looked slightly more relaxed. “She’s going to be okay.”
“I know.”
“What happened to her?”
“Beyond the obvious? A sick bastard wants to make that guy pay for being alive.” He motioned to Gunner, who was sleeping next to Avery, a hand on her arm.
“That’s why he kept her alive,” she murmured.
“Pretty much. Look, Andrea, by this time tomorrow, your life will be back to normal and you can forget all about us. I’ll make sure the clinic gets a good donation for your time.”
He wanted to ask her why she was working at a clinic rather than a hospital, but he didn’t need to get involved any more than he already was.
“Avery’s going to need counseling. You know that, right?”
“I heard you talking to her. You sound like you’ve had some experience in this, Doc,” he drawled. He blew smoke out the open window. His weapon was held loosely on his thigh as he kept an eye out for any disturbances in the force.
“Would that matter to you?”
“Maybe.” He leaned forward. “I hope I’m not dragging up bad memories for you.”
“Really? Now you have a conscience?”
“Only a quarter of the time. Keeps my life much simpler.”
She dipped a fry in ketchup, paused before eating it. “I don’t buy that at all. I’m betting there are things that keep you up more nights than don’t.”
“In this game, there’s always something burrowing in your brain, refusing to let go.”
“Like?”
“Like . . . what if you play the game like you’ve got nothing to lose, but you end up losing something big? Is that worth it?”
“Let me know when you find the answer.” She ate in silence for a few more minutes, then asked, “What do you guys do that makes you the good guys?”
“You takin’ a survey?”
“I’m trying to figure out if I should hate you or not,” she countered
. And yeah, he really liked her.
“We help innocent people. And sometimes we get caught in the cross fire. Speaking of.” He pulled her cell phone out of his pocket. “Is there anyone you need to call? Anyone who’ll worry?”
She stared at the phone, and her face flushed. At first, he thought it was anger that he’d gone through her bag and taken her phone without her noticing. He also had her wallet but figured now wasn’t the time to tell her so.
“There’s no one,” she said quickly.
“You’re sure?”
She pushed the unfinished food away. “Yeah, I’m sure.”
“You’re not close to your family?”
“Are you?”
“To my brother. I consider those two family. Couple of others. The group’s small but worth it.”
She drank more of her coffee. “Are you really going to let Avery go after the guy who did that to her?”
“With Avery, let isn’t exactly the right word. I don’t think there’s any way to stop her. But she won’t be alone.” He shoved Drea’s phone back into his pocket. He’d already gone through it, made a copy of the information he’d found, just in case. “Do you need any other supplies to get her through the night?”
“I’d love a monitor, but it’s probably not necessary. She’s breathing okay and she wouldn’t let me give her much in the way of drugs.”
“No, I’d expect she wouldn’t have. White-knuckling it seems to be our specialty,” he muttered.
Drea stared at him for a long moment before saying, “It’s an endearing quality, even if I’m here against my will.”
“And you’re sure no one out there’s looking for you?”
“Yeah,” she said, but she was lying. He didn’t push it, because it hadn’t triggered any bells and Jem would go down living and dying by his gut. “Is there anyone out there looking for you?” she countered.
“More than you could hope to count, sweetheart.”
“You like it that way, don’t you?”
“Very much.”
“I think you’re crazy,” she told him.
“Like I don’t have papers from the nuthouse to prove that, sweetheart.” He took a long drag from the cigarette, blew the smoke out the half-open window that gave him a clear view into the lot. Gun and Avery were sleeping peacefully, and he’d let them remain that way until night. Then they’d move the hell out of Tennessee.
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