Page 76 of Hey, Daddy

“She can’t even talk, let alone explain what the fuck happened. You can’t arrest her for that. She should be at a hospital right now, not in the back of a police cruiser,” I snarled.

What the hell was going on right now?

Was he one of the ones involved in all of this? Was that why he was breaking every protocol we had when it came to situations like this?

Sergeant Daniels looked away, and that was when I saw some stick up his ass suit nod his head at Daniels.

Sergeant Daniels stiffened further, then said, “She’s coming down to the station.”

I gritted my teeth before saying, “I’m taking her to the hospital. Either you can arrest me or allow me to take her.”

Sergeant Daniels went to argue, but I dismissed him by turning my back, then walked to the couch, gathered Nastya in my arms, and walked out with her.

I headed directly for the ambulance, which just so happened to be the same place that both Dima and Shasha were standing. As well as their lawyer, Elianora.

Elianora took one look at me, then at the angry sergeant I could feel following closely on my heels, and said, “You will not speak to our client until she’s been checked out by a medical professional at the hospital.”

Sergeant Daniels stood behind me, fuming.

I didn’t say a word as I climbed into the ambulance and said, “Meet us at the hospital.”

The paramedics took us straight to the hospital, and all the while my mind reeled.

“Will she allow me to check her over?” the paramedic asked as I sat there enraged.

“No,” I said. “She’s going to need a female.”

And I refused to think about the fact that Nastya completely freaked every time a male officer in uniform came anywhere near her.

We arrived at the hospital, and the first thing I asked for was a staff of females to check her over.

“I think the easiest thing would be to get her in the shower,” a nurse said five minutes later as she tried to check out Nastya’s body.

It proved futile, though.

She was literally covered in so much blood, she looked like she rolled in it.

“We need to do a rape screen on her,” I croaked. “We need to collect evidence as well. We can’t give her a shower until samples are taken.”

So they did.

They took samples.

They gave her a rape screen.

They did everything required by law, then gave her over to me to take a shower in the staff breakroom.

They did share with me, however, that she hadn’t been raped.

Thank God.

While the shower was warming up, I smoothed my hand over her hair and talked to her softly, not about anything in particular, though.

“Do you know where the term ‘Peeping Tom’ came from?” I asked, smoothing my hand over her blood-crusted hair.

I needed her to talk to me in the worst way.

And she surprised me by doing so then.

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